Chapter 28
Gwen
It was Sunday, the day before Gwen had to return to work. She stood in her walk-in closet. The walk-in closet that had been such a selling point for this house. This house that had been her dream house. Her work clothes had been organized perfectly by a former version of herself, a person who had time and energy to tend so carefully to her wardrobe. There were pants—black, gray, tan. There were pencil skirts. There were blouses, arranged by color. Below, in the shoe rack on the floor, were her pumps and flats. She had once been a person who cared about shoes, who “dressed for success.” Since becoming a mother, she’d dressed only for survival.
“How’s it going in here?” Jeff asked, coming into the closet with June in his arms. He had sent Gwen in here to pick out an outfit a half hour ago. He must have been wondering what was taking so long.
“I don’t know. Nothing seems right,” Gwen said.
It was a statement of total truth.
“Hey, I know this is hard,” Jeff said, “but I really think this is a rip-the-Band-Aid-off situation. You’ll feel much better after tomorrow.”
“You’re probably right.”
She couldn’t fathom how he could be right, how anything could feel much better after she handed over her baby (and a hefty sum ofmoney) to relative strangers and then returned to a work environment where she was expected to be on for several hours a day. Jeff didn’t want to hear her negativity, though. She had to, for all intents and purposes, suck it up.
That night, she lay awake in bed, flat on her back, while Jeff lay flat on his back next to her, the two of them like two cadavers in a morgue. He was sleeping well enough to snore. June was still waking up two or three times a night, and Gwen found herself on alert for her cries, unable to rest.
She sat up against the headboard, tapped her phone awake. It had been two days since the kissing incident with Leigh, and she still hadn’t heard from her. She felt mortified by the whole thing, kept replaying it in her head and chastising herself. What had come over her? Beyond the humiliation, she was overcome with grief. She imagined it like an ever-growing multilayered cake, each layer a different source of melancholy—sadness over these first months of new motherhood, sadness over letting June down in so many ways, sadness over going back to work, sadness over her distance from Jeff, sadness over the apparent end of her friendship with Leigh. She longed to hear from her. She fantasized about Leigh forgiving her, absolving her of her shame. They would recommit to their friendship, moving forward with the understanding that what had happened between them had been a one-time blunder not requiring further analysis. Why wasn’t Leigh texting her?
Gwen opened Instagram, scrolled mindlessly, looking for something for her brain to grasp on to and mull over so she wouldn’t keep ruminating about Leigh. She tapped to Angeni Luna’s page. There still hadn’t been a post. Under her last post, a slew of commenters was pleading with her to reassure them.
We miss you, Angeni. Hope all is ok!!!
Starting to worry ... ... can u let us know u ok?
Hope rumors aren’t true and ur just taking a break
She started to type a message to Leigh:
Still no word from Angeni Luna. The mystery continues! Miss you, my friend ...
Then she deleted it. She wasn’t the desperate type, and a message like that was desperate.
“You okay?” Jeff said, rolling onto his side and putting a hand on Gwen’s thigh. His voice was thick with sleep, his eyes still closed.
“Yeah, sorry, I’m fine.”
She put the phone down on the nightstand and slid back to her horizontal position, staring at the ceiling. She channeled Leigh and took several deep breaths. Just as she was finally feeling relaxed enough to sleep, June cried.
It was the same as always—Angeni and Gwen sitting at the kitchen table, Angeni holding Gwen’s hands with such tender affection.
I know you’re uneasy about going back to work,Angeni said.It doesn’t feel right to be away from June. Of course it doesn’t. But you have established such a rich connection with June. It will withstand the difficulty of the separation during the days. The bond between the two of you can withstand anything.
“Babe, your alarm’s going off,” Jeff said.
It took Gwen a minute to realize she was sleeping in June’s room. She’d come in to see her in the middle of the night for their new routine—several minutes of attempted breastfeeding, followed by a bottle of formula. Gwen didn’t know if June was even getting any milk from her anymore, but they were keeping up the charade. It was possible June just thought the presentation of her mother’s boobs was part of the ritual of these feedings. Gwen planned to pump whatever she could at work, even if she managed just a couple of ounces. She owed it to June to keep trying.
Gwen remembered lying down with June on her chest postfeeding. She hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but she had. She must have transferred June back to the bassinet at some point, because that was where she was, unbothered by Jeff’s appearance in the doorway.
“For work,” Jeff said. “Your alarm.”
Gwen sat up in bed. She’d set the alarm on her phone for six so she would have plenty of time to get everything ready for the day.
“Sorry,” she said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. June began to stir.
“Want me to start the shower for you?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.
