Stuck With You

Chapter 1

SARAH

Poop. There is poop eve-ry-where.

I hold my breath as my eyes trace over the small, confined space.

“No!” I throw my hand out like a stop sign.

Frankie’s bottom lip puffs out, and she starts to cry, holding her arms out for me to pick her up.

Ok.

I quickly untuck my silky blouse and strip it off, setting it on the rocking chair. I tie my freshly dried waves back with a hair tie and grab the wipes off the top of the dresser, ready to enter the danger zone. I need elbow-length gloves, but alas, I’m diving in bare-handed.

“All right, Love Bug.” I scrunch my nose, carefully inspecting the damage. “I guess we’re getting a bath this morning.” Which I do not have time for.

I tug one arm out of her sleeve and then the other, delicately lifting the soiled shirt over her head.

“Ma-ma,” she whimpers, reaching for me, and I curl my spine, pulling my clean body away from her grasp.

“Hold on.” I rip a thousand wipes from the container to attempt to scrub away some of the dried mess stuck to her back and sides. She jolts at the cold and cries louder.

Her soaked bottoms sag, and I toss the handful of wipes into the pool of sewage spread over the crib sheet, then work to remove her pants .

One side of the diaper hangs open, the cheap tab having come loose in the night. Store-brand diapers are my number one enemy today. I’ll draft a letter to the company on behalf of all of mom-kind.

I hold her arm with one hand while trying to inch the sticky and stinky fabric over the bloated diaper. My nostrils flare as I suck in air through my mouth, which might be worse.

Ulk, yuck!

Frankie whimpers as I try to free her from the abhorrent mess. I release one chubby foot and then the other, letting the diaper fall to the sheet that will likely find its home in the trash.

I stare at it, holding her by the arms. “Ok. It’s ok. One thing at a time.”

I grip her under the armpits and hold her away from me, quickly moving to the bathroom, hoping to avoid getting poop on my skirt.

“Mama, I’m hungry,” Ollie whines from the couch as I scurry across the hall with a smelly baby. “In a minute, bud.”

She stands along the side of the tub while I turn on the water, needing it to warm quickly.

“Ma-ma-ma-ma.” Fat tears drip onto her cheeks.

“Shhh. It’s ok. We’ll get you all clean.” As quick as possible . I run a hand over her hair, feeling the stiffness along the back. I can’t even think about it.

Damn diapers.

I check my watch and blow out a breath. Frankie’s cries turn to a fuss as the water pools around her squishy little feet.

After the quickest sanitizing bath of Frankie’s life, I wrap her in a towel and head back across the hall where the morning Poopgate remains.

“All right, you little dung beetle, now that you smell fresh, let’s get you dressed.”

With a diaper and fresh clothes, I hurry to the living room and sit her beside the basket of toys. I check my watch again, knowing Helen will arrive any minute, and I’m only in my bra .

I stop at the edge of the couch and lean down to plant a quick kiss on the top of Ollie’s head.

He laughs as Bandit crawls across the screen, ‘baaing’ like a sheep.

My little guy is snuggled up with his big-eyed, stuffed blue fish, giggling at Bluey.

The giant fur ball next to him raises his head from Ollie’s lap, cocking his head as if I’d forgotten him.

“M-mama. I’m hungry,” Ollie whines.

“One sec, ok?” I rush back to Frankie’s room, carefully removing the sheet and waterproof pad, folding it in on itself to carry to the washer. In the basement, I select the cycle with the hottest setting, then rush up to pull on my shirt.

My phone buzzes on the dresser. I swipe to answer, but—

“Ow! Shhii . . .” I bend at the waist, bringing my foot to my hand and cupping my toes, uncertain if they’re all still attached. I hold my breath, hoping it will ease the pain and the desperate need for nothing to be broken.

Holy mother of . . . Piece of shii . . .

I wheeze, clenching my teeth and trying to keep myself upright rather than crumpling to the floor where my toe may be lying severed and in need of reattachment.

“Gooooood morningggg,” my mom sings, but it’s clouded by the pain.

I inhale and exhale, blinking tears from my eyes.

“Honey?”

“Yeah.” I choke out. “I. . .stubbed my toe.” I carefully rub my pinky, confirming it’s still there, but I can’t be sure it’s still pointed in the right direction.

“Oh, ow. That hurts like a . . .” I hear her suck air through her teeth, and the long-distance sympathy does nothing to help the virtually vomit-inducing pain.

I lean my shoulder against the wall and inspect my tights, which thankfully are still intact. Not even a snag .

I release my foot and gently wiggle my toes even though the fiery ache is almost unbearable.

I limp down the hallway, clutching my phone to my ear. I peek at Frankie, working on pulling every toy out of the basket, hearing the click, click, click of dog nails on the old hardwood floor trailing me.

In the kitchen, I reach into the large tub next to the back door and dump a scoop of food into Grover’s bowl.

“So, what did you do yesterday?” my mom asks in her typical cheerful tone, likely attempting to distract me from the pain.

I need a bit of my mom’s peppiness. “Unboxed a few more things and then studied.”

I tap the speaker button and set my phone on the counter next to the coffee pot. I pull my travel mug from the dishwasher, inspect it, and decide it’s clean enough for the gas station-like sludge I’m becoming accustomed to drinking.

“Sweetheart, you need to get out and make friends. You’re too young, smart, and beautiful to sit at home and have your nose in books.”

My mom is the fun mom. The social butterfly. The one who marches to her own drum and right into the party. There’s no room for bad days or wallowing. When things suck, you grab the bull by the horns and make it dance.

I dump in enough vanilla creamer to make the crappy coffee tolerable. “I’m going to work. Believe me, it’s enough socialization these days.”

I glance at the time and must be out the door as soon as Helen arrives.

“What about Kat? Why isn’t she dragging you out of the house? She seems like a woman who wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

She’s not wrong. From what I can tell, Katrina Dunn is a shark. The woman chews people up one side and down the other. Fortunately for me, she doesn’t appear to view me as prey. Are we friends? That’s probably a stretch, but for some reason, she’s taken me under her wing, at least for now .

Two weeks ago, on my first day of work, Kat made herself at home in the chair beside my desk and gave me a rundown on all of my coworkers and the rules for sticking it out. She made it clear that if I wanted to last, I had to refrain from fraternizing, no matter how tempting it might be.

I still don’t quite understand the last one since the list of candidates to possibly fraternize with is equal to none, but I noted it anyway.

I never have and never will date or mess around with a co-worker, and that’s before I was screwed all to hell by the one person who should cherish me beyond all others.

Kat smiled a quick, sly smirk and wished me luck as she left me with the twenty years’ worth of marital assets my other boss designated as my first assignment. The same ones I’m still digging through and drowning in.

“Honey, you need a night out with the girls.”

I used to have girls’ nights filled with movies, laughter, and sharing new mom woes, but those days are long gone, and so are those friends. A night out would be fun. But one, I don’t have any friends, and two, the list of what I currently need goes so far beyond a night out.

I throw some crackers and cheese in a baggie for lunch.

“Mom, I spent all weekend cleaning and studying during nap time. There are still things to go through and boxes to unpack. Plus, even though she’s not my direct boss, she’s probably not someone I should casually hang out with.

I have to prove myself and show I can do more than answer phones and create spreadsheets. ”

I unlock the back door, and Grover trots out to do his morning business.

“Well, maybe join a gym or something. I bet they have one that has childcare.”

“Right. Like I can afford that.”

“Yeah.” She breathes out a mix of frustration and disappointment, which tugs on my gut that wants to ignore those same constant feelings .

“Did that ancient washer quit making noises?” Thankfully, she’s moving on.

“Yes. Good thing because I’m out of underwear.”

“Pfft. Just go without. It’s the thing these days.” I will not ask how she knows that. “Oh, did you get the box I sent you? There’s a cute Kate Spade bag in there. I snagged it right before Cynthia got her grubby mitts on it. It’s perfectly professional and in amazing condition.”

I drop my lunch into the large, beautiful bag. “Yes. It’s great. Thank you.” I won’t tell her I’ve considered selling it for the cash, but it’s too perfect.

“It came in last week, along with the most exquisite gown. It made me think of . . .” I tune out the reminiscing, not having the energy for dreams long past, and am saved by the front door opening and closing.

“Mom, I gotta go. Helen is here.”

“Ok, honey. Have a good day. Love you!”

“Love you, too.” I step into the living room. “Good morning.”

“I’m sorry I’m running late. I got stuck behind the train.” Helen shivers. “It’s turning into winter out there. All the leaves are frosted over.”

The front yard is blanketed with gold leaves covered in a dusting of white frost. I make a mental note to see if there’s a rake in the garage.

I snatch Frankie from the floor, and Helen places a worn hand on her back, smiling at Ollie. This woman is a straight-up blessing and the only reason this move was possible.