"I know." She sighs, sinking onto the couch. "I should sleep while he does. It's just... hard to wind down."
I understand that feeling all too well. How many nights have I stayed awake until exhaustion finally beat out the memories and nightmares?
"You want a beer?" I offer, then immediately regret it. "Or tea? I think I have tea somewhere."
"Tea would be nice, actually."
I head to the kitchen, and while the kettle heats, I lean against the counter, trying to get my thoughts in order.
I have a son. I am a father. Those facts keep cycling through my mind, but they still don't feel quite real.
The kettle whistles, and I pour water over the tea bags I found buried in a cabinet. I have no idea how old they are, but tea doesn't go bad, right?
When I return to the living room, Sidney is staring at a photo on my bookshelf, the only personal photo I display. Me and Jamie in Afghanistan, arms around each other's shoulders, grinning like idiots in front of a Humvee.
"Here," I say, offering her a mug.
She takes it with a grateful smile. "Thanks. Is this you in the military?"
I nod stiffly. "Yeah. Afghanistan. Second tour."
She studies the picture. "You look different."
"Was different then." Younger. More naive. Less broken.
"Who's the other man?" she asks.
"Jamie."
She must hear something in my voice because she sets the picture down gently. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"He didn't come back, did he?"
I look at her sharply. "No. He didn't."
She nods, not pushing for details, which I appreciate. Instead, she sips her tea, grimacing slightly at what must be a stale taste.
"Sorry about the tea," I say. "Don't entertain much."
"It's fine. Hot liquid with caffeine. That's all I need right now."
We sit in silence for a moment. There's so much I want to ask, so much I need to know about the son I just met, but I'm not sure where to begin.
"So," I finally say, "You worked in medical billing?"
She nods. "For about four years. It was a good job. Steady hours, decent pay. Until they downsized and laid off half the staff."
"And you couldn't find other work?"
"I tried." Her voice takes on a defensive edge. "I applied everywhere. But Cedar Falls isn't exactly booming with opportunities, especially not with a two-year-old and childcare costs."
I hold up a hand. "I wasn't accusing you of not trying. Just trying to understand what happened."
She relaxes slightly. "Sorry. I'm used to having to defend myself lately. The job market there is tough, and I don't have a college degree."
"What about family? Friends?"
