Chapter 7 – Sophie
7
SOPHIE
I ’m pacing around the upstairs hallway, attempting to soothe Lucy and waiting for Liam to get back. I’m trying to remember, but I think my brother’s wife, Laura, told me once before the twins got rashes with viruses. Maybe that’s what this is. It must be so overwhelming for him to be in this new role. But he has to figure it out. I will help him if he’ll let me.
I hear the front door open and close, and I shout to him that we’re upstairs. He bounds up the stairs and grabs Lucy from me, holding her up so he can look her over. “She’s fine,” he says abruptly, taking me aback.
I look at him as if he has three heads. “Uh, no, Liam, she is not fine. She is sick. It’s probably just a cold or a virus, but she has to go to the doctor,” I say firmly.
I watch Liam carefully as he walks into his room with Lucy in his arms. I wait a moment before following. I’m not sure what to say to him so I don’t set him off. He seems a little edgy, perhaps because his date got cut short. When I walk in, I find him sitting on the edge of the bed, holding Lucy close and stroking the back of her head.
I lean in the doorway and wait for him to notice me.
“I don’t know what to do,” he admits, his voice raspy. “She’s never been sick before.”
I sigh, my empathy for him growing. I walk over and sit down next to him, so close our thighs are touching. “I can help you,” I tell him.
He shakes his head vigorously and scoots over so I can no longer feel the heat coming off his body. “No. You’ve done enough.” It doesn’t sound outright mean, but it sounds like he really doesn’t want my help.
“Maybe we should call her doctor. I’m sure we could look in your sister’s boxes…” I trail off when he stands up and walks out of the room.
I follow him and find him rooting one-handed through Lucy’s pajama drawer while he holds her with the other. “I told you. I don’t know who her doctor is,” he growls. “I will figure it out.”
“Liam, why don’t you let me help you? It’s Cape May, it’s small. How many pediatrician’s offices could there be?” I try to take her back from him, but he turns away, surprising me with his unwillingness to accept my help.
“With all due respect, Sophie, this is my problem. Not yours. It’s 8 p.m. on a Friday night. No pediatrician would be open anyway.” He walks away from me, back into his bedroom, and lays Lucy on the bed to dress her.
“They have doctors on call. Or we can try an urgent care. This qualifies as urgent.” I push harder and right away I realize that’s a mistake.
Liam is visibly frustrated, but I don’t think it’s with me. Not directly anyway. Maybe he’s frustrated with the situation. I’m trying not to take it personally.
“No, Sophie. Just stop. I’ve got this,” he says curtly, holding up his hand. Then he walks back into Lucy’s room and sits down in the rocking chair. She is tense and starts to whimper, probably because she can sense the tension between us. He pats her back and whispers “shhh” in her ear. He clearly loves her, and maybe he is mad at himself right now. I just wish he would let me help.
“Liam, please. I want to help you both,” I try again, forcing myself to steady my voice.
“Sophie, I appreciate all you’ve done tonight, but I’m here now so please, I don’t need your help. Please just let me handle it.” He holds his hand up at me as if telling me to back off.
My lips are trembling. I am speechless at this point, and I don’t know what else there is to say. Obviously, Liam and I are not becoming friends like I thought we were. He doesn’t want my help. It stings. I suck in a breath, willing myself not to cry. I look at Liam, but he won’t meet my eyes. He wears a mix of emotions on his face—fear, frustration, sadness, shame, maybe. I can’t quite pinpoint it, but there is nothing more I can do if he doesn’t want my help. Without another word, and with one last long look at Lucy, I leave.
* * *
“What a douchebag !” Claire shrieks when I am FaceTiming her fifteen minutes later. “You know, the nerve of that guy. I cannot even believe he acted like that to you when you are helping him ! I am infuriated.” Claire props her phone up on her dresser and paces around her bedroom.
“I mean, I was pretty pushy about him letting me help,” I reconcile, feeling so silly now that I laugh at myself.
“So what? You were helping him. You were giving him advice as a woman who knows a hell of a lot more about babies than he does!” She is yelling at me now.
“I mean, I’m not a mom so I don’t know how much I really know,” I mutter, feeling my typical self-pity creep up once again. Here I am, on a Friday night, miles and miles away from my best friend, my ex-husband, and my life , feeling sorry for myself instead of doing whatever else I should be doing. I don’t know what that is yet, but it is something . Who even cares about Liam?
“And he told you to let him handle it !” Claire shouts ignoring my remark about motherhood.
Claire and Derek are DINKs. Double Income No Kids. They are choosing not to have kids and instead to embrace life together, travel, make a shit ton of money, and roll around naked in it, probably. So, while I know she empathizes with me and my journey toward motherhood—that has now abruptly come to a halt—I would say she doesn’t totally get it.
“You know what? I’m coming there. Tomorrow. Derek !” She shouts to another room, “I am going to see Sophie in Cape May tomorrow!” She is such a firecracker.
I love Claire; she is my best friend. My ride or die. She’s mad for me, but I also secretly think she misses me. “I think you’re more upset about this argument with Liam than I am. I hardly know the guy. I thought maybe we could be friends but now it’s just clear that I need to stay out of his way.” I kick off my shoes and lay back on the couch. “I mean, you can come if you want to but it’s a long drive.”
“I’m coming. You need some moral support. I should have been there already! You need me to kick your ass in gear and help you figure out what you’re going to do next.” She begins throwing things in a duffel bag erratically. “What’s the weather like there right now?” I laugh because she would ask about the weather.
For the last weekend in April, it’s actually quite nice. I wished that I had shorts earlier in the week because it’s been in the 70s but cooler at night. I love it when there is a sea breeze. I can crack open the window in the cottage and smell the ocean all the way over here while I sleep. “It’s warm-ish during the day and cooler at night,” I tell her.
“Great. I’m leaving first thing in the morning. Book us a spa appointment for tomorrow afternoon or something. I mean it. Let’s get massages, pedicures, nails, really relax. Wait. Do you have space for me to sleep?” Claire is talking so fast I’m having trouble keeping up, but she already helped me forget how riled up I was when I called her so that’s a plus.
“I have a queen-size bed we can share, otherwise this super cool teal sofa.” I laugh, holding my phone up so she can see where I am sitting.
“Okay, great. We can snuggle.” She laughs. “I will see you tomorrow!”
“Bring wine,” I chirp.
“You know it! I’ll see you tomorrow.” Claire grins and with that, she’s gone.
I immediately go in search of a spa that will let me book online at 9 p.m. on a Friday night.