10. Dom
Chapter ten
Dom
“ D om. Dom, wake up,” Ellie says, pushing my shoulder as I slowly surface from sleep.
“What’s going on?”
“He’s up. It’s your turn,” she says, a sense of urgency in her voice. She gets anxious when he cries, but I can’t leap out of a dead sleep into a sprint. I’m a heavy-ass sleeper and my body doesn’t work like that. My brain needs a second to catch up.
“Huh? Yeah. Okay, I’m…I’m up,” I mumble, voice hoarse. I rub my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose with one hand, checking the time with the other. “Holy fuck, El. It’s two forty-five in the morning.”
She flops onto her back and glares at me. “Yeah, well, I was up with him from twelve-thirty to two. Like I said, you’re up .” She rolls back to her side.
“Fuck,” I mumble as I make my way into Luca’s room. Only a forty-five-minute stretch of sleep. What the fuck is going on tonight?
Luca’s never been one to sleep through the night, but since his birthday party a few days ago, he’s been giving us longer stretches of uninterrupted sleep. Guess he was still recovering from the excitement of the party. Seems like that’s over now .
“Hey, hey, shhhhhh. Little man, it’s okay. You’re just crying because you’re tired, right? I say, taking a screaming Luca into my arms, holding his head against my chest, and trying to soothe him as best I can.
Fuck, he’s inconsolable.
Time drags on and I try everything in my arsenal. I shush, I sing, I hum. I rock, I pat, I sway. I sit, I stand—shit, I even lie down on the ground next to his crib at one point holding his panicked hand as he reaches through the slats in the crib.
“Goddammit,” I huff. I’m running out of ideas, but the idea of calling Ellie in for help isn’t appealing either. We both know nursing gets him to sleep faster, but she was just up with him for an hour and a half while I slept. But I have to work tomorrow and she’s home with Luca. He might nap for her, and she can rest. I’m sure she’ll understand.
I try to calm him down for a few more minutes, but nothing’s working.
“Ellie?” I call out cautiously, stepping into our room with Luca still crying in my arms.
“Yes?” she hisses from underneath the covers, frustration evident in her tone.
“I’ve tried everything. I can’t get him back down,” I say, admitting defeat and bracing myself for a different storm. One of the Ellie variety.
“Did you try singing? Humming? Changing your hold?”
“Yes, yes, and yes. Still no luck.”
“And you checked his diaper, right?”
Fuuuuuck. I’m so fucking exhausted; I forgot to check. I’m not thinking clearly.
“Shit. I’ll do that now,” I say before quickly dodging out of our room and into Luca’s nursery before Ellie can respond.
Wouldn’t you know it? The damn diaper was wet.
So, I try again. Still, more tears from Luca, but I do my best, cycling through all my methods again, each attempt seeming to piss him off even more. Putting him in his swing. Rocking him in the glider. Singing, bouncing, everything. A guy can only handle so much screaming, and I’m about to hit my limit.
“I got him changed and still…nothing. Do you think you can take a turn?” I ask Ellie, daring to venture back into our bedroom.
“Do you know how long you’ve been in there?” she asks, sitting up straight, hair a mess, eyes cold enough to cut through my insides and leave me burning afterward.
“Noooooo?” I draw out the question, afraid to hear the answer.
I’m operating on maybe three hours of interrupted sleep. I know this is a bad idea, but with Luca screaming in my ear, Ellie attempting to kill me with her thoughts alone it seems, and the desperation I feel to get some decent sleep before I have to get to work in a couple of hours, I can’t seem to avoid the obvious trap.
“Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes, Dominic . I gave it an hour and a half, and you can’t give it more than twenty minutes?”
“You know he just wants to nurse. There’s no point in me trying.”
“Of course he wants to nurse. He’s fucking teething . Weren’t you listening to me earlier when you got home from work? He was cluster feeding all day even though it seemed like he was weaning last week.”
I shove my free hand through my hair, letting it fall to my side in a tight fist before shaking it out.
“I can’t take in information right when I walk in the door from work. I’m usually still caught up in my thoughts brainstorming for class.”
“Right, so your job is more important than listening to me talk about our son. I’m just supposed to handle everything while you wind down from your day, even though you just had an entire commute home to do so. Guess what, Dom? I don’t get a commute. I’m in the thick of things with Luca all day. There was no one clawing at you and gnawing on your chest while you went about your day. Excuse me for being touched out. I know he wants to nurse, but—spoiler alert—my nipples are fucking raw. He is hurting me and I need you to put him back to bed so I don’t have to sit there in pain while you sleep peacefully a wall—might as well be a whole fucking world—away!” Her chest rises and falls rapidly. Despite her disheveled appearance, her stance is assertive .
I don’t argue. It’s impossible to when I know she’s right. I tell her as much and make my way back to Luca’s room to try again.
Another twenty minutes, and I finally get Luca calm. Thirty minutes after that, he’s finally out. I hold my breath as I try to hover out of his room, avoiding stepping on the one spot in the flooring that I know will creek if I put any weight on it.
I hurry to our bedroom, turn the monitor on, and breathe a huge sigh of relief finding Luca still asleep. Without wasting any time, I plug the monitor into the charger and jump into bed, ready to pass out.
“His body is out of the camera shot,” Ellie says, voice uneasy as she stares at the baby monitor. “How did that happen?”
“I don’t know,” I say, getting comfortable and rolling onto my side before closing my eyes.
“Dom, I can’t see if he’s breathing when he’s out of the frame.” The panic building in her tone has my body going rigid.
Don’t say it, Ellie.
“We have to fix the camera.”
“Ellie, no. He just fell asleep. There’s no goddamn way we’re stepping foot in there. He is fine .”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” she hisses with disbelief, as if I’m the unreasonable one right now.
“No, I’m really not.” I sit up to find she’s already upright. She looks like she’s about to leap out of bed and storm into Luca’s room, and I cannot deal with what we both know will happen if she does. “I don’t know what your mind is telling you right now, but Luca is safe. He’s asleep. He’s breathing. Okay?” I flop back onto my pillows, hoping with every bone in my body that’s the end of it.
Tomorrow—well, today—is already going to be impossible. I’ve gotten basically no sleep, it’s four in the morning, and I can’t deal with another hour and a half of fighting to get an overtired Luca back to bed. At that point, it’ll be time for me to get ready for work anyway, any chance at getting some much-needed rest evaporating.
“You’re being kind of insensitive,” she volleys .
“And you’re being incredibly paranoid,” I mutter, unthinking.
Like a fucking idiot.
“Now you’re just an asshole,” she says, voice thick with tears. Instantly, what I’ve said registers in my stupid, sleep-deprived brain, but before I can stop her and apologize for being a jerk, Ellie’s already out the door. I hear her soft steps on the baby monitor as she makes her way to the camera and watch as she adjusts the view. I see Luca’s body come into the frame and I hold my breath, waiting for the smallest noise to disturb his sleep.
But I was wrong. She escapes without incident, comes back into our room, grabs the monitor, and hurries out. I hear the soft click of the guest room door closing.
Fuck me. I am an asshole.
***
“You okay, Mr. D?” Joey asks from his seat in the back row.
“Yeah, you look like shit,” Hunter pipes in, unhelpfully, might I add.
“Shut up, Hunt. You’re being rude,” Tiffany reprimands her twin brother as she doodles in her notebook.
“It might be rude, but at least I’m honest,” he retorts.
“You kind of look like you did a few weeks ago. No sleep for the mini-Moretti?” Gabrielle asks.
Ungrateful. That’s what this class is. I gift them the ultimate prize as a student…a movie day. No expectations, no discussion, no homework. A no-strings-attached, all-too-precious movie day —all because I’m a fucking zombie—and this is my reward? A good old-fashioned roast, compliments of my third-period freshmen class.
“How about a thank-you for the free period?” I ask, taking a sip of jet fuel—sorry, I mean coffee. Mabel is the sixty-three-year-old school secretary, and basically the boss of all us teachers. She only knows how to make her coffee like this, a shot of adrenaline in a ceramic mug. I’ve clung to her breakroom brew every morning since Luca was born like the gift of life that it is .
Unfortunately for me, even the strongest cup of coffee can’t clear up the gray clouds hanging over me today. Because I wasn’t just up late with a toddler who wouldn’t sleep; I was up late fucking up my marriage.
I just keep making things worse.
Of course, I didn’t mean the stupid shit I said. I was burned out, touched out, and fucking exhausted. The thought of risking my last chance at sleep only to adjust the baby monitor camera felt insane to me in the moment. Now, with some distance and some caffeine, I can recognize that while Ellie’s anxiety doesn’t always make sense to me, it’s very real to her, and I was the opposite of a supportive partner last night.
No, I made things infinitely worse.
I’m not perfect, never claimed to be, but now I have some serious damage control to do. I’m already trying to figure out where I’ll be stopping on my way home to pick up flowers and something with a whole lot of chocolate for Ellie when my class decides to offer more…feedback.
“Uh-oh. You messed up, didn’t you?” Bethany chimes in.
“Crap, you’re right. Look at him. Remorse is written all over his face,” Jerry adds smugly, like my pain and suffering are hilarious.
“Hey. Movie. Focus,” I call out, gesturing to the screen and dropping my head into my hands as my elbows rest on my desk.
“Relationship problems. Clear as day. Look at him practically pouting,” Joey agrees with all the seriousness of a surgeon being asked for a second opinion on a serious case of the husband fuckups.
“I’ve lost all control. Subjects are becoming too aware,” I mumble into my palms, loud enough for Jerry to hear, little shit.
They’re actually a great class—a fun and intelligent group of kids—but I don’t need their above-average observation skills today.
“Whatever you did, you need to buy her something nice,” Hunter says confidently, making his sister roll her eyes.
“You can’t undo stupid with gifts,” she says in a reprimand .
“Hey,” I say defensively. Who says I was stupid?” Tiffany gives me a knowing look and laughs. Fucking laughs. “Okay. So, if I was stupid, hypothetically , what would you recommend?”
Am I asking fourteen-year-olds for advice? Shit, I guess I am.
“Apologize, take her to dinner, and spend some time together. Show her she’s appreciated,” Tiffany says.
“Yeah, and do something special that tells her you’re thinking about her when you’re not with her,” Gabrielle adds.
The guys look at each other, dumbfounded. Yeah, we still have some work to do to catch up my half of the population when it comes to relationship competence. I mean, look at me…Exhibit A.
“I’ll take these recommendations under advisement. Now…movie,” I say, gesturing back to the screen. My class might be invasive, but even in my fuzzy state of mind, I know they’re not wrong. A night out would do Mom and Dad some good. Let’s see if I can work some magic.