Chapter 16 Crybaby
Chapter sixteen
Crybaby
There was no way I could sleep facing that crib.
This had to be a mistake. A delivery person must’ve misheard which door to go through.
Or Jen was clearing a path through her laundry before it could be moved.
Surely, I wasn’t on night duty for the baby.
And Mom already knew this plushie was for me.
Was it put in the crib for staging? Or were Jen and I switching rooms entirely?
I rushed to do inventory of my things. I was missing a few hoodies. Nothing I couldn’t reclaim from her room. Unless it was mine now? What was I supposed to do?
I hugged the plush and laid down, tossing and turning.
The second Jen’s door creaked open, I shot into the hallway to greet her. She jumped at my appearance. But she couldn’t be mad—quiet hours had already been breached.
“Good morning,” I said, smiling with clenched teeth.
She furrowed her brow. “Why are you so chipper?”
“I couldn’t help but notice you started to put things together for the baby.” In my room. My cheek twitched.
“Oh, yeah. Special delivery.” She shuffled toward the bathroom.
I ran my fingers through my messy hair. “So, um, just wondering why you assembled the crib in my room. Seems like it’d be hard to move.”
She gave me a funny look, her nose scrunched up, like I was offending her with my ignorance this early in the morning. “That’s the only place it fit.”
“I’m sure we can find another spot for it. Let me grab the measuring tape and—”
“What do you want me to do? Put the baby in the living room?” She scowled, waddling past me in a hurry.
“No, but it shouldn’t be in with me,” I said.
She shut the bathroom door in my face, the shock reverberating through the hallway.
“Jen?” I knocked with growing urgency.
Mom cracked open the master bedroom door and squinted at me. “Just use the downstairs bathroom, honey.”
“I’m trying to ask Jen something.”
“Can it wait until we’ve had some coffee?” Mom suggested with a weak smile.
Dad grumbled behind her.
“It’s fine, sweetie,” she told him. “They’re not fighting.”
No, we weren’t fighting yet.
“I think we could all use some coffee,” I said, lacing my words with the frustration brewing underneath.
In the kitchen, I punched the coffee grinder to life, then snatched an apple and a knife. I needed something in my stomach. So would Jen, presumably. I sliced the fruit with a bit more force than necessary.
Mom came into the kitchen, closing a long, fluffy robe around her nightgown. “What’s wrong, honey?”
I jabbed upward as if to stab through the ceiling. “There's a crib in my bedroom.”
“You mean Jen’s?”
“No, mine.” I tapped the dull side of the blade to my chest. “I’m not pregnant. I’m not the mom-to-be. I need my sleep.”
Mom sighed and grabbed the kettle. “Yes, well, we all do. There must’ve been a misunderstanding about what and who was going where. We can talk about it later. After all, we’re all in this together. We’re family. That might mean some rough nights—and mornings, as it may be.”
My throat tightened, and tears pricked my eyes. “You know what that could do to me.”
I could fail again. I could lose everything.
“What do you mean?” Mom asked. “You’re not driving. You’re not in school. It’ll be a good time to bond with Jen and the baby.”
“I’m still working,” I said.
“So are the rest of us. You’re the only one on part-time, except Jen, when she takes her maternity leave. That might mean picking up some slack on other household things,” Mom said, vaguely gesturing to the dishes in the sink that someone else had dirtied.
Was she kidding?
“I’m trying to get my life back,” I emphasized. “I want a relationship. I want a career. I want to be able to go to the bathroom at night without someone screaming at me for it.”
“I wasn’t screaming, you drama queen,” Jen yelled down the stairs.
I flung out my arms in exasperation. “See what I mean?”
Mom patted my arm. “Put down the knife, sweetie. I know how Jen can be. But she’s still my baby. And so are you. I hate to see either of you hurting. We can try to move the crib or switch your rooms, though I doubt it’ll make much difference when it comes to hearing the crying.”
I wilted against the cabinets and let the knife fall to the counter.
There was no real escape, was there? No sanctuary of sleep.
“D-do you think noise-canceling headphones would do anything?” I asked.
Mom furrowed her brow. “Didn’t you say you’d help her with the baby?”
“Yeah, but I figured that meant babysitting a few hours a week. Not night shifts. If she didn’t want to be a parent, then she shouldn’t have gotten pregnant,” I snapped.
Mom gave me a long-suffering look. “Now, Tori…”
“No. Don’t ‘Tori’ me. It would’ve been one thing to ask to put something in my room. Or to switch, which I could do. But she’s trying to force me to deal with her mistakes.”
“My baby is not a mistake,” Jen thundered across the living room.
Mom widened her eyes and gestured tightly across her neck to cut off the conversation.
I rolled my eyes. “I was talking about the crib. Did you even measure our rooms before you ordered it?”
“No. It was an unexpected gift. From someone who cares a whole lot more than you do.” Jen stomped into the kitchen, her hair mussed and eyes ablaze, wearing one of my missing hoodies.
I furrowed my brow. “Mom, you and Dad put the crib in my room?”
“No. My boyfriend,” Jen spat.
“Boyfriend?” I repeated, scoffing in indignation. “I know he’s been absent, but how does he not even know which room you’re in?”
Jen raised her hackles, her face red. “Shut up, Tori. That was my room, first. I just let you use it.”
“Is that why you feel so entitled to my time…and my closet?” I asked, flipping the hem of the jacket.
Jen shoved me. Hard. My butt ricocheted off the nearby stove. Gas hissed. Apple juice dripped along my fingertips the deeper my nails sunk in.
Don’t shake the baby. Do not slap the pregnant lady.
Mom held her arms out between us. “Hey, we do not lay our hands on each other. Now, say you’re sorry.”
Jen tried to push past her. “Don’t you ever talk about my relationship. Just because you’ve never had a boyfriend—”
“I know what love is, Jen. And this isn’t it.” I’d seen and felt it more than she could imagine. Angel had shown more care for me in three days than her man had in their whole relationship.
I dared to take a step closer. “Your ‘boyfriend’ hasn’t been to a single one of your doctor’s appointments.
You’re always complaining about feeling lonely and upset.
He hasn’t even met all the people who’ll be raising his kid.
And as for the crib—did he bother getting one for his place?
Or is he gonna ‘visit’ you on weekends?”
Jen glared, her eyes shiny and dark. “He’s doing a lot for us.”
“All he did was knock you up,” I said.
“That’s enough,” Mom chided.
I tossed the apple aside. “No. She needs to know. I’m not anybody’s babysitter, nurse, or punching bag. We can’t keep living like this.”
“Well, maybe you should leave then,” Jen said.
I should. I wanted to.
“I’m going to pack,” I told them, hurrying off.
It was about time I got my life back on track—and I couldn’t do it like this.
“Wait, Tori. Jen,” Mom chided.
“Let her go,” Jen said.
A fight between them swelled in the kitchen.
I needed to get out of here ASAP. It was toxic. No wonder I’d burned out in med school, coming home to this.
I hauled my old luggage out of the basement, accidentally banging it on a few stairs in my huffy struggle to get it all the way to my bedroom.
I stuffed my pastel luggage full of essential items, my fingers lingering on the edge of my First Aid book, the big one for med school.
Post-its stuck out at every angle, and I'd annotated its pages. It didn’t feel right to leave it behind, but did I really need it?
It wasn’t like it could fix my life.
I put it in my backpack. Just in case.
The only thing left to do was find a new place to stay.
I called Kat, and she answered on the third ring, her speech slurred with sleepiness. “Heyyy, are you okay?”
“Yes. Well, no.” I sniffled and wiped my nose. “Can you come get me?”
“Where are you?” Her voice cracked, and something thumped, then meowed in alarm. Had she or her cat fallen off the bed?
“I’m at our parents’ place. Jen, she’s…ugh. I might need to crash at your place for a bit.” At least until I figured out my next steps.
“No problem. Sit tight. I’ll just… Jinx, this is an emergency. Er, sorry, Victor, can you…? I’ll be there ASAP.”
“Thanks.” I sunk onto my bed and covered my face, the soft vanilla-scented bear gently leaning into my side.
What was I going to tell Angel? We were supposed to hang out today. I wanted see him, but not when I was a mess. I texted him, writing and deleting a million pet names before deciding to go with a cute reminder of his gift.
To my surprise, he texted right away.
He sent a selfie: a sleepy, cute shirtless pic where his hair was still mussed.
I hugged my bear, wishing that sweet cologne was his, and that he’d be here to hold me for real.
I snorted a giggle.
How could he make me laugh at a time like this?
I wanted him to pick up all the little pieces of my life and put me back together again. But that wasn’t fair to him. I had to be fun. Romantic. Like an early relationship should be.
Okay, I could be convinced. But first, I had to give him the new address.