47. Laila
47
LAILA
As if by unspoken agreement, no one mentions his name.
Not as we load up to leave the hospital. Not as we drive across town with Nina strapped safely into the backseat for the very first time.
Yet, even as Dominik helps me out of the car in the driveway, I look to the house and expect to see him there. It’s the same stupid hope that sparked in my chest any time someone entered my hospital room the last two days.
He wouldn’t just leave. Not now. Not like this.
But it isn’t Arsen who emerges from the house to help his wife and infant daughter inside.
Gedeon smiles like he can see the disappointment plastered all over my face. “Hey, you. Welcome home.”
I don’t respond as Dominik helps Mom out of the car and Gedeon grabs Nina’s car seat. I try not to think about the way I imagined Arsen here instead—carrying Nina over the threshold, the three of us walking into the house for the first time as a family.
Sometime in the last forty-eight hours, I convinced myself that Arsen would be here when we got home, and whatever happened at the hospital would disappear.
But the house feels cold and empty.
The moment we walk inside, I know he isn’t here.
Dominik helps me up the stairs, followed by Gedeon and the car seat. But when Gedeon turns towards our bedroom, I stop him. “I want to go to the nursery.”
There isn’t a single inch of this house that won’t make me think of Arsen, but we both put our hearts into Nina’s nursery. He cares about her—I know he does.
I’d like to be surrounded by the proof.
The second the door opens, Polina leaps out of the rocking chair in the corner. “You’re finally home!” She rushes up and hugs me tightly. “You look wonderful, my dear.”
“You don’t have to lie to me, Polina. I know I look like shit.”
Polina and Mom exchange a glance, but they don’t try to convince me otherwise. It would be a tough sell.
I finally traded my hospital gown for a pair of Arsen’s sweatpants this morning, but I haven’t washed my hair in two days, and I’m still wearing smeared remnants of the makeup I put on to go to that fancy dinner with Arsen.
I gingerly bend down to lift Nina out of her car seat. She fell asleep on the ride over, but her slate blue eyes are open now.
I kiss her round cheek and curl her in the crook of my arm. “Hey, baby girl, what do you think of your room?” I do a slow walk around, letting her see the crib and the art on the walls. “Better than the hospital, huh? Your papa decorated this room for—for?—”
Great, she hasn’t even been home for five minutes and I’m already blubbering in her nursery.
I clear my throat and give up on the sentence. Nina can’t understand me, anyway. But the rest of the household can.
Dominik is lingering in the doorway like he’s torn between coming in or running in the other direction. “Do you need anything else, Laila?”
My husband would be an excellent addition to the current situation, yeah.
“I’m good, Dom. Thanks.”
Dom and Gedeon turn to leave as my mom unzips my hospital bag. She starts folding onesies with shaky hands, and I see Polina clock the tremors at the same time I do.
“I’ll do that, Marie.”
Mom purses her lips, but she doesn’t put up a fight. The dark circles under her eyes explain why. Since Arsen was nowhere to be found, my mom was there with me through the last two sleepless nights. I know it’s been harder on her than me.
“Dom, hold on,” I call, stopping him just outside the door. I turn to my mom. “Let the guys take you down to your room. You need to put your feet up and get some rest.”
“I’m not the one who gave birth,” she argues, though I notice she’s already shuffling towards the door.
“No, you did that twenty-four years ago.” I kiss her cheek as she passes. “Now, it’s my turn. Your granddaughter will still be here after you take a nap.”
She runs a gentle hand over Nina’s arm. “But if you need anything?—”
“I’ll march down to your room in all of my adult diaper glory and wake you up myself,” I assure her.
Polina tucks a stack of folded onesies into a shelf before wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of your girls while you’re gone, Marie.”
With a tired smile, Mom blows me one final kiss on her way out.
The moment she’s gone, my smile sags under the weight of the last two days.
Polina holds her hands towards Nina. “Do you mind?”
All at once, I realize how weak my arms are. How exhausted I am, inside and out.
“Of course not.” I place my daughter in her arms and Polina coos softly, murmuring to Nina in Russian.
“She is gorgeous. The most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen. I mean, those eyes! I think they’re gonna be green just like her papa’s.” I start fussing with the sheets of Nina’s crib to avoid Polina seeing the bitter look on my face. “She looks so much like Arsen when he was born.”
Despite myself, my attention is caught. “You were around when Arsen was born?”
Polina walks over to the rocking chair and sits down. “I was. Nina—the elder Nina, that is—and I were good friends. We went to school together.”
I walk to the window seat and lower myself gently onto the bench. “I had no idea. Arsen never said.”
I have a feeling there’s still a lot Arsen hasn’t told me. It’s tough to do when he isn’t around.
“It was a miracle we met at all. The only reason I was in the same prep school as Nina is because I got a very generous scholarship—something the other students liked to make me aware of as often as possible. But never Nina. She was the wealthiest kid in that school, but she was kind and generous. Fiery, but a good friend.”
“How did you end up working here?”
Polina’s eyes turn misty. “My father got sick, and I had to drop out in my senior year to look after him.”
“Oh, Polina…”
“Don’t you dare pity me. You know a thing or two about that kind of responsibility yourself.” She gives me a sad smile. “But Nina thought I was throwing away my opportunity. She couldn’t understand my choice, and we fell out of touch. A few years later, though, Nina and I reconnected. I was still struggling, and she wanted to help, but I wasn’t raised to accept handouts.”
“So she gave you a job.” It sounds exactly like something Arsen would do.
She nods. “I started as a maid. Not that Nina treated me like one. It used to drive her parents insane that she was friends with ‘the help.’”
“Wasn’t that hard for you? That Nina was technically your boss?”
“It could’ve been awful, but Nina was amazing. We each had our roles in this house, and she always treated me with respect.”
“I wish I could’ve met her.”
“You would have loved her. She was a great woman. And a wonderful mother. She was so hands-on with Arsen. Usually, women like her have night nurses, maids, nannies—the works. An army of help. Nina just had me.” Polina traces a finger over the apple of baby Nina’s cheek. “I held him as a child, and now, I’m holding his child. I wasn’t sure it would ever happen, but I’m glad it finally has.”
If only Arsen was here to see it.
“You really love him, don’t you?”
Polina smiles fondly. “Arsen is the closest thing I have to a son.”
The knot in my chest tightens. “Have you seen him at all these last few days?”
Her smile drops. “I ran into him once or twice.”
“So he’s been hiding out here, then? I suppose now that Nina and I have come home, he’s going to find someplace else to run away to?”
“Honey—”
The frustration I’ve been bottling for the last two days rushes out of me all at once. “He left me alone in the hospital without a word, Pol. He held Nina for a minute, maybe less. And then he disappeared.” I punch one of the cushions next to me in the guise of fluffing it. “I thought he seemed weird while I was in labor, but I chalked it up to nerves. I didn’t realize he was busy figuring out how to run out on us.”
“He’s not running out on you. Or her.” Polina gazes down at Nina. “It’s why I’m here. He wanted to make sure you two were taken care of.”
“And I’m grateful you’re here, Polina, I am, but…”
It should be him.
Polina sighs. “I know. Deep down, he knows that, too. He just needs some time.”
“There is no more time! She’s here. Arsen has a daughter, and she needed him starting two days ago.”
“I think watching Nina come into this world was… a lot for him. Arsen has spent his whole life keeping people at arm’s length. You have every right to be mad,” she says. “Far be it for me to defend Arsen here?—”
“But you’re going to.”
She lifts her shoulders helplessly. “I watched that boy grow up. I saw him lose not one, but two parents, both of whom he loved dearly. I saw how much that cost him.”
“But he hasn’t lost us,” I whisper. “We’re right here, waiting for him.”
“No, he hasn’t lost you.” Every line on her face seems to soften as she looks down at our daughter. “But he’s terrified that he might. That makes all the difference.”