“I hear them too,” I reassure her. “What do you smell?”
“Bacon and coffee,” she answers quickly and confidently. Breaths becoming more stable.
“The best smell, right?” She nods and laughs with me. “What do you taste?”
“Bacon and coffee.” She smirks, more relaxed now.
“Mommy, mommy! Sawyer took my truck!” Goblin one storms into the kitchen to Emma’s feet. I watch as she simultaneously wipes her tears, takes a final steadying breath, and scoops him up to her in a bear hug. The panic gone, all her focus on her baby—like a super mom.
“Let’s go remind Sawyer how to ask nicely, shall we?” she asks him as he hugs her like a koala attached to a tree. He nods in agreement as he waves shyly at me.
“Hi, Easton.” I wave back and tickle his foot.
He giggles as Emma carries him away, kissing him all over his head, cheeks, and nose. Over time I think she’s realized that’s another way she can combat her anxiety, physical touch and affection from her babies.
I watch as she scoops Sawyer up in the other arm and sits down in the middle of the floor with them, leaving her worries behind as she gives them her undivided attention. The memory of their birth floods my brain.
An emergency c-section, two NICU babies, a long recovery for all of them.
After years of managed anxiety and little to no panic attacks, Emma’s birth experience caused worsened symptoms and increased frequency so much so that she needed medication for the first few years of their life. Rightfully so, I can’t imagine going through birth trauma the way she did.
For months postpartum was scary for her, but the boys, albeit colicky and a major handful in their own way, were lifelines for her. Tangible mercies for her own scary intrusive thoughts. And as much as they drive me crazy, I am so grateful they are around and love their sweet mama so much.
I finish cleaning up the kitchen for Emma then join them in the living room. My presence is enough motivation for the boys to race upstairs and drag their entire toy box down the steps and set it at my feet. Emma and I sit on the couch as Sawyer and Easton pull out each individual toy and present it to us in a showcase-like fashion. A pristine moment without angry thoughts or anxiety—just silly thoughts about broken Hot Wheels, orange dinosaurs, and pajama pants that are inside out.
My phone dings.
Smiling at the thread, I realize that even after the events of last night and this morning, I don't feel an immediate need to run away.
“What are you smiling at?” Emma asks from inside the odd-shaped circle of dinosaurs and toy cars the boys told her toNOT TO LEAVE—apparently it’s a hostage situation.
Putting my phone away I shrug. “I don’t know, just feeling happy.”
She smiles at me, a warm and sweet smile I haven’t seen in a long time, eyes looking a little misty and sentimental.
“What?” I ask her.
“I’m just happy you’re happy. It’s been a long time coming.”
My phone dings again. Emma rolls her eyes, probably assuming Benny was double texting me—something she despises, but I secretly love. There’s just something about getting back-to-back texts from someone, like they’re just thinking about you and couldn’t wait for your response so they text you again. Disregarding all response etiquette just for another chance to hear from you.
I felt warm thinking about it.
Then another ding.
Followed by a third quickly after.
Okay, now we’re bordering psychopath territory.
I unlock my phone to see multiple texts from my friend Duncan, the admissions counselor from Columbia.
I stare at my phone so long my screensaver comes on—a jump roping pineapple.
“What’s wrong?” Emma asks. She's not even looking in my direction, solely focused on manning the dinosaur fort as instructed, yet she's aware something is up. That motherly intuition, probably.
“Uh—it’s nothing—I just lost my train of thought . . .” I trail off, staring back at my phone. My stomach is in knots, but I’m not sure if it’s due to anticipation or guilt. I haven’t told Emma that I’m still scoping out jobs. I haven’t applied in a few weeks, actually, I only submitted one application. But when I spoke to Duncan about some student applications a few months back, I also told himwhyI was at Glendale for the time being and the desperation I felt in regard to needing a job, back in New York, as soon as possible.
“Alright, well I’m gonna drop the kids off, then run to the store.” She starts tidying up the living room, and, as if the twins have ultrasonic hearing, they come running downstairs demanding she not touch their things. Ignoring their hollers and screams she asks, “Liam hates chicken, right?”
