“Could you please enlighten us as to what Abby Duty entails?” Jack asks. “And is Abby aware that she’s a duty?”
“She’s not a duty, Jack, she’s a privilege.”
“Yeah, Jack Robbit,” I say, barely containing my laughter. “And don’t you forget it.”
“Don’t call me that. And of course I don’t think you’re–”
“Ellie,” I say, cutting him off. “What exactly is Abby Duty? And more importantly, why does it exist?”
“I couldn’t sleep last night after we talked,” she says, looking concerned. “I hate that the house feels so lonely. And I hate even more that we didn’t know about it.”
The boys all rapidly turn their attention to where I’m sitting, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
“Ellie Bellie, it’s fine,” I try to reassure her. “I was just having a hard day. This is entirely unnecessary.”
“Incorrect,” she says sharply. “It’s completely necessary, and I won’t hear a word otherwise.” She slaps the pointer she’s holding, which has seemingly materialized out of thin air, against the paper. “Each color represents a person, and each day has been assigned to one of us. We’re not letting her have one more lonely night, whether she stays at her house or one of ours. Obviously staying at her house would be ideal, since it’s hercomfort zone. But if she wants space and needs to stay with one of us, we make that happen.”
“This is ridiculous,” I huff, but everyone else is nodding in agreement. “Y’all can’t seriously be considering this? Ellie, this is insane, I don’t need babysitters.”
“Not babysitters,” she says, sticking the pointer in my direction. “Friends. Support system. Family.”
“I love it,” David says enthusiastically. “Mandated sleepovers? I’m in.”
“Wait a second,” Jack says, sticking his hands out like he’s trying to physically halt the conversation. “We can’t just force her into this. This is helicopter-parenting on steroids.”
“Of course we won’t force her,” Griffin says. “My darlin’ wife may have gotten a little carried away, but I don’t think it’s a bad thing to be a little more intentional with our support. The onus shouldn’t be on Abby to ask for help, she already has enough on her shoulders.”
A lump has formed in my throat, and I’m trying desperately not to cry right now–the overwhelming love and care in this room is stifling in the best way.
“I really love you guys, you know that?” I say softly, swiping at the tears in my eyes before they have a chance to fall. “Even if you are insane.”
Jack locks eyes with me, a silent search to discern if I’m actually okay with this. I smile, nodding slightly before continuing. “We can try the schedule out for the next week or so, see if it’s actually helpful or if it’s a logistical nightmare.”
“Excellent!” she cries, clapping her hands together. “Jack, you’re up first tonight since you’re off duty.”
“How can you be sure I’m off duty?”
“Because I called the station, duh,” she says, offended by the question. “You really think I haven’t done my research?”
“Of course you did,” he grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. But when he looks at me, his expression softens and he leans forward in his seat. “And of course I’ll be there. For as long as you want.”
“Well, this is your only night this week. David has two nights, and I have the rest.”
“And what, I’m chopped liver?” Griffin gasps.
“No, baby,” she says soothingly. “You’re a given. We’re a package deal. Unless I’m on a work trip, then you’ll be faced with the impossible task of filling my shoes.”
“Can we adjourn this meeting?” I ask, raising my hand. “Duty would like to go home and shower.”
Everyone laughs, all of us rising at the same time to go.
“Let me just run home and grab some stuff,” Jack says to me as we walk down the pathway that leads to the street. “Do you want me to come back immediately, or just come over later?”
“Let me take care of some things around the house before you come over,” I say, realizing how much of a disaster my place is right now. It’s funny how drastically your priorities change in the throes of grief. A messy house used to drive me up a wall–now I don’t care one bit. “But how about you come over around 5:30, and could you maybe pick up dinner?”
“You bet,” he says with a nod. “I’ll see you later. Call me if you need anything before then.”
With that, he gets in his Jeep and takes off, and I make the short trek across the street. When I turn the doorknob, the silence hits me the way it always does. But somehow it doesn’t feel as overwhelming now.
