Chapter 14
Norri
The apartment felt empty and cold without Gali's presence, as I knew it was going to feel. The rain pattered against the windows, the sound a constant reminder of his absence. I sat on the couch, cradling our son in my arms, rocking him gently as he fussed and cried. It was as though he knew that his father wasn't living with us anymore. The baby's tiny face was scrunched up in distress, his wails piercing the air.
"Shh, baby. Shh," I cooed, bouncing him softly, trying to soothe him. But I didn't have much experience and didn't know what else I could do. "It's okay. I've got you."
But nothing seemed to comfort him. He was hungry, I knew, but feeding him only temporarily eased his cries. I walked with him, swaying and bouncing, humming a soothing lullaby I'd heard Gali sing to him once. It had always calmed him before, even when I was the one singing. But now, it seemed, nothing worked.
Tears of frustration welled up in my eyes as I paced the small living room. Gali had been gone for three months now, and each day without him felt harder than the last. I thought that he'd be back by now.
The loneliness, the fear, the constant worry about his safety, it all weighed on me, pressing down like a suffocating fog. I didn't know if he would be back and would still be the same person.
I missed him with a physical ache, a void in my chest that never seemed to fade. At night, I would reach for him in the bed beside me, only to grasp at empty sheets and cold blankets. In the mornings, I'd wake to the sound of our son crying, and the realization that Gali wasn't there to help ease my exhaustion would crash over me anew. It was difficult to get out of bed in those mornings.
Now, as I walked and bounced our fussing baby, I couldn't help but rage at Gali for leaving us like this. Did he not understand how hard this was, how lost and frightened I felt without him here? Did he not care that his son needed his father, that I needed the strength and comfort only he could provide?
The truth was, he knew, and that was one of the reasons why he was doing what he was doing. He just wanted to live in peace with me.
I held our son a little closer, pressing a kiss to his downy head. "Don't worry, little one," I whispered. "He'll come back to us. He has to."
But even as I said the words, doubt crept in, a cold tendril winding through my gut. What if something happened to Gali out there? What if he didn't come back? What would I do then? How would I keep us both safe without him?
The thought made my knees buckle, and I sank down onto the couch with our son still in my arms. Tears spilled over, running down my cheeks as I rocked him. "Please come back," I whispered brokenly to the empty room. "I need you, Gali. We need you. Don't die."
Our son's cries began to quiet, his small body going slack in my arms as exhaustion overtook him. I stared down at his angelic face, still streaked with tears, and felt my heart swell with love. He was so small, so helpless, depending on me for everything. It was terrifying, the responsibility, the weight of keeping him safe and cared for. I didn't know for how much longer I could handle this.
I shifted him to my shoulder, rubbing his back gently. "We'll be okay," I murmured, more for my own sake than his. "You and me, we'll get through this. Gali will come back, and we'll be a family. I promise."
I knew I was making a promise I couldn't guarantee. I had no idea if Gali would return safely, if we would have a future together at all. But I had to believe it, had to hold onto the hope that we would be together again.
I couldn't give up. I couldn't let fear and despair take root in my heart. I had our son to think about now, to build a life for, to give a future to.
With a deep breath, I stood, shifting our son carefully into my arms. "Come on, little one. Let's get you fed and settled."
The kitchen was cold and dark as I sat in the armchair with my son, Orion, cradled in my arms. He was crying, his little face red and scrunched up in frustration. I could see the hunger in his eyes, the desperation in the way he opened and closed his mouth, searching for something to fill his empty belly.
"Shh, it's okay, little man," I cooed, trying to soothe his cries as I fumbled with the bottle of formula. "Daddy's got you. We're going to get some food in you, don't worry."
But as I brought the bottle to Orion's lips, he turned his head away, his tiny fists flailing in protest. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I tried again, and again, but each time, he refused the bottle, his cries growing louder and more desperate.
"Please, baby, just a little," I begged, my voice cracking with exhaustion and frustration. "I know you're hungry. Just take a little."
But Orion was having none of it. He continued to scream, his tiny body writhing in my arms, his little fists beating against my chest. I felt like a failure, like I was letting him down, like I couldn't even provide the most basic of needs for my own son.
Tears spilled down my cheeks as I held Orion close, rocking him and shushing him, trying to calm him down. "I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I'm so sorry, my little Orion. I don't know what to do."
I knew Gali was out there somewhere, trying to make things better for us. But in that moment, I couldn't see how anything could ever be better. I was alone, struggling to care for a baby I barely knew how to handle. I missed Gali so much it hurt. I needed him here, needed his strength and guidance and support.
But he wasn't here, and I had to be strong for both of us. I had to figure out how to do this, how to be a good father to our son.
I took a deep breath, wiping my tears away with the back of my hand. Orion was still crying, still fighting against the bottle, but I refused to give up. "Okay, buddy, let's try something else," I said, my voice steady despite the tremor in it.
I stood up, shifting Orion to my shoulder and patting his back gently as I paced the room. I sang to him, humming the lullabies Gali used to sing to him when he was fussy. Orion seemed to settle a little, his cries quieting to small whimpers as he listened to my voice.
"That's it, my little man," I murmured, continuing to pace and pat his back. "You just listen to Daddy's voice. Everything's going to be okay."
As I paced and sang, Orion's whimpers gradually subsided, his little body going limp and heavy against my shoulder. I smiled through my tears as I felt him relax, his tiny fists unclenching and falling to his sides.
I knew this was only a temporary fix, that he would likely be hungry again in a few hours, but for now, I was grateful for the moment of peace. I continued to sing and pace, enjoying the feel of Orion's weight against my shoulder, the sound of his soft breathing in the quiet of the apartment.
I couldn't help but think about Gali, wonder what he was doing, if he was safe. I hoped he was okay, that he wasn't suffering or in danger. I hated that he had to go away, hated that I couldn't be there to support him.
But I knew this was something he had to do, something he needed to do to keep us safe, to give us a better life.
As Orion drifted off to sleep in my arms, I carried him to his crib, gently laying him down and tucking the blanket around him. I stood there for a moment, watching him sleep, marveling at his tiny features, the way his little chest rose and fell with each breath.
"You're going to grow up to be a strong, brave man," I whispered, brushing a lock of dark hair off his forehead. "Just like your daddy."
A few seconds later, I heard a knock at the door, followed by Mrs. Hargrove's muffled voice calling out, "Norri? Is everything alright in there?" This couldn't be happening. Not now and again.
I sighed, running a hand over my tired face as I walked to the door. I opened it to find Mrs. Hargrove standing there, her weathered face etched with concern. The good thing about this was that she cared about me, but it was the only one.
"Oh Norri," she exclaimed, pushing past me to enter the apartment. She didn't even ask for permission. It was her place, after all. "I heard the baby crying from all the way down the hall. What's going on?"
Before I could respond, Mrs. Hargrove was already making her way to the baby's room. She peered down at him, her expression softening.
"He looks peaceful now," she murmured. Then, turning back to me, her brows furrowed. "But why was he crying so much? Is he not feeling well?"
I closed the door behind her, leaning against it with a weary sigh. "He's fine, Mrs. Hargrove. Just... fussy, I guess you could say."
She looked at me skeptically, crossing her arms over her ample bosom. "Fussy for three months straight? That doesn't seem right, Norri. Babies usually outgrow the colic by now."
I rubbed the back of my neck, suddenly feeling very defensive. Mrs. Hargrove was right about that, but I also didn't want to talk about it.
"Well, maybe he's just a particularly fussy baby. Some are, aren't they?"
Mrs. Hargrove studied me, her gaze sharpening. "And where's Gali in all this? Shouldn't he be helping you with the baby?"
My stomach twisted at the mention of Gali's name. I looked away, focusing on the worn carpet beneath my feet. "Gali... He's away on business. It's just me and Orion right now."
I couldn't tell her the truth. I wasn't crazy enough to do something like that. She couldn't know what happened. I didn't want her to call the police.
There was a long pause, and then Mrs. Hargrove sighed heavily. "Business, huh? Well, that explains some things."
When I glanced up, I saw her looking around the apartment, taking in the empty beer bottles on the coffee table, the piles of dirty laundry in the corners. Her eyes landed on the stack of bills on the counter, the red 'Final Notice' stamped across them.
"Norri," she said softly, her tone gentling. "You can't handle this alone. You need help with the baby, and you need money. Let me lend you some until Gali gets back."
I bristled, my pride rearing its head even as I wanted to accept her offer. "No, I can't take your money, Mrs. Hargrove," I said, my tone firm. "We'll be fine once Gali returns. The work he has this time will set us up for a while."
Mrs. Hargrove shook her head, tutting softly. "A new job, huh? And what kind of job would that be? Is it really worth it when it keeps him away from his family for months on end?"
I clenched my jaw, hating the way she was questioning Gali's absence, implying that he didn't care about us. I was the only one allowed to think that.
"It's important work, okay? Something he needs to do to ensure we are going to be okay."
Mrs. Hargove looked skeptical, but she let it drop for now. Instead, she turned her attention back to the baby, bending over his crib to run a gnarled finger over his cheek. "Look at him, so small and helpless," she cooed. "He needs his father, Norri. Needs a stable home and two parents to raise him right."
Tears pricked at my eyes, and I blinked, refusing to let them fall. "I know that," I whispered. "Believe me, I know. But Gali will be back soon. Things will get better then."
Mrs. Hargrove straightened up, giving me a long look. "Better for who, Norri? Better for you and Orion? Or only better for Gali?"
I stared at her, shocked by her bluntness. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She sighed, rubbing her temples. "I've seen men like Gali before, Norri. Men who think their mission, whatever it may be, is more important than their family. More important than the people who love them."
My heart clenched at her words, fear twisting in my gut. Was that true for Gali? Did his work really matter more than us?
"No," I replied, shaking my head. "That's not true. Gali loves us. He wouldn't leave if he didn't have to."
Mrs. Hargrove reached out, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "I hope you're right, dear. For both your sakes."