Over the course of the long weekend, while you and David put together your little girl’s nursery, you couldn’t help but think of that moment in the baby store, and how desperately you had wanted to kiss him.
But your heart ached whenever you relived the part where David diverted, and you wondered if you had waited to long.
You wondered if you had pushed him away too far.
Held him at arm’s length too long.
You remembered how good his arms felt when he had wrapped them around you in that store, and were simultaneously sad at the distance your growing form was creating.
You found yourself no longer looking in the mirror longingly, but disgustingly.
You found yourself cursing yourself every morning instead of rubbing your stomach and talking with your child.
And you hated yourself for it.
And with that hate, and those memories, came your anxiety.
You took your baths and David steered clear. He would make sure you were taken care off and that you had wonderful food to eat, but when the nursery was put together and the fans were done drying the walls, you found yourselves back in your respective areas of the house.
And the only thing you could do in your bathtub was cry.
David couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss.
Well, that almost-kiss.
He closed his eyes as he sat on his bed and relived the moment. He clocked your every move in his mind, stilling your body and walking around it as if you were a 3D stand-still model, trying to profile your every move.
He made the right decision in not kissing you.
He remembered your stance. Your shoulders. The way they were rolled back in confidence. Your jaw, set in happy determination. He remembered your tone of voice, soft and airy, with a hint of disbelief. He recalled the lemonade-tinted scent of your breath wafting from your lips.
And as his memory scanned up your face, he remembered your eyes.
How beautifully Y/C/E they were.
And then he noticed it.
The way your brows were set in silent want. The way your pupils were blown so wide that it was his memory filling in their color instead of their color being present.
He closed his eyes and remembered how you held him when he hugged you, how your shoulders had sagged and your body had collapsed into his
“Shit,” he murmurs to himself as he strides from his bed to the top of the stairs.
Sniffling as you reach your foot up to cut the water off, you lean your head onto the side of the tub as you wipe your nose.
How in the world were you going to live platonically with a man you still loved?
How were you going to hold his hand in the hospital and tell the nurses that he was “just the baby’s father”?
How were you going t-
Furrowing your bow as you lightly turn your head, you catch the reflection of a shadow in the glossy tile as you quickly splash some water in your face.
But David was a profiler, and his heart was already breaking.
“Can we talk?” he asks.
“Uh…um, y-…yeah,” you stammer as you slowly turn your six month and three week pregnant form over to face the door.
“What’s up?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.
But David didn’t come into the bathroom, and you were wondering why you wished he would.
“I wanna talk about…well, about a lot of things really, but um…”
You had never heard David struggle with his words.
“What is it, sweetheart?” you coo.
And his head shot up upon hearing that name.
That beautiful name that you effortlessly rolled off of your tongue.
“That moment in the baby store,” David says lowly.
Your skin prickled at the tone of his voice as your heart began to pound hard into your sternum.
“What um…wh-…what about it?” you ask, trying to feign ignorance.
And David smiled at your attempt.
“The reason I didn’t kiss you was because I thought your hormones were driving you, and that you would regret it after the fact,” he states plainly.
Well, that technically makes sense.
“Oh,” you state lightly.
“And I didn’t want to, yet again, be something you regretted,” David said.
And you heart the hurt in his voice.
“David, I don’t-”
Tears rose back into your eyes at his words.
“I don’t regret you,” you breathe as one leaks down your cheek, “I regret…”
David was hanging on to your every word.
“I regret all of the fighting,” you state as your jaw begins to tremble.
“I regret not telling you about the pregnancy,” you choke out as your chest hiccups lightly.
“Mi amore…” David trails off lowly.
His soul ached for you.
“I regret-” you choke.
“I regret…n-not um…not letting you b-…back in…sooner,” you sniffle as you try to stifle your sobs.
“And I regret not kissing you,” David murmurs lowly.
Sniffling hard as you, yet again, splash your face with bubbly water, you clear your throat as you let your hair down from its captive hold.
“No one’s saying you can’t do it now,” you state lightly.
Your eyes watched the corner as David slowly stepped around it. You watched as his form slowly filled the doorway as your body, sunken into the claw tub filled with bubbles, radiated for him as he slowly made his way towards the tub.
“Care to share?” you ask as you nod your head towards the other side of the bathtub.
And you watched in impatient awe as David slowly began to shed his clothing.
were a first time mum, which made running errand hard when you had an 8 month
old constantly in your arms. Today, things had to be done; your fridge was
nearly empty, you were onto your last pack of diapers, you still had to get
your mother a birthday present and you promised yourself you were going to get
your haircut 3 months ago. Thankfully, Seth was home for a couple of days so
your little girl could have some daddy time while you went out. You returned home
a few hours later, feeling relieved as you put the shopping bags on the counter
in your kitchen, flicking back your newly dyed hair away from your face. You
heard giggles coming from upstairs. Smiling, you started walking upstairs,
stopping in the doorway of your little girl’s nursery. She was dressed in a
bright pink tutu, not the onesie you had left her in before leaving the house.
She lay on the floor, Seth above her. He moved down to complete a push up,
kissing your little girls nose before returning to a plank position, causing
her to erupt in giggles. He continued to do his push ups, each time causing
your baby to laugh and try to reach for his curls. In that moment, you’d never
been more attractive to Seth. His eyes lit up with so much love when he looked
into his eyes, his smile illuminating the whole room when she giggled. You
found yourself laughing when she grabbed a hold of Seth’s hair, trying to put
it into her mouth. Seth stopped, moving to lift your little girl into the air
and walking towards you. Upon seeing you, her eyes lit up and reached for you,
happily obliging you took her in your arms. You leaned over, smile still on
your face and gave Seth a kiss, whispering a soft I love you as you left the
room. Seth stood frozen, his smile radiating off his face from looking at the two of
you, thinking how lucky he was and if anything, he was going to keep those
smiles on his two favourite girl’s faces, as they were his favourite things in
I wonder when the last time I put you down was. The time I swore off you for good. Cramming you back into the corner of the toybox. Determined to be the boy you knew I wasn’t. Oh, Ann why did it have to turn out this way? I’m sure you have gone on to play with other little girls. The church nursery a dangerous place for dolls. But none of them could have loved you like I did.
I remember rushing to the toybox, as my mother’s footsteps faded, muffled by the carpet. You waited for me there. Week after week. The boy toys scattered around the room, just so, camoflauge and secrecy. You were the sin I coveted so deeply. I named you after Anne of Green Gables, though I never liked the extra E. And you and I would sit for stolen minutes turned to hours by shame and fear. And I would hug you to my chest as if to say, I love you. I will be back again. Soon. I promise.
Sometimes they would move you to the other room. Those Sunday girls, in radiant fancy dresses that made my tiny suits look like filth and dismay. They stole you, and I would pull their hair and pester them. My mother wondering what got into me. And I would answer “I don’t know”. I’d sin again for you. Ann I wanted to take you home with me, I did, I swear. I know you were lonely in that room, in the right back corner of the toybox. I was lonely too. I would have if I could. But I knew better. And so did you. Though you were careful not to say. You talked to me of playing mommy and princess and were never mad when I held you roughly, with my fingers. Boy fingers, dumb fingers that couldn’t cat’s cradle right, that never braided your hair like you wanted. But you didn’t mind. I was your little girl. And you were my Ann.
It was funny to me that you had a name. Because I didn’t, not a real one anyhow, I had a name they called me and I could tell you why. My mom had told me. But it wasn’t mine. Or maybe it was. Maybe I was stuck with it, stuck trying to be that name. But it wasn’t pretty. And you thought I should have a pretty name. And let me try out plenty. And I loved you.
We both had to hide you and me. Or at least to see each other we did. I hid you so no other girls would find you when I wasn’t alone. That was awful watching you play with them. While I played with cars, always cars. Stupid pointless cars. You couldn’t hold a car, cars never talked to you, or let you pretend your hair was long like theirs. Cars didn’t call you mommy or sister or friend. You hid because you were wanted. I hid because I wasn’t. But at least we had each other. Oh Ann, at least you were there for me.
I wonder when I put you down for the last time. Back into the corner of the toybox. Determined not to be bad anymore. Not to have to hide or worry, not to feel. Was it sad in there? Was it hard being all alone? Did it hurt to think about me? And why we couldn’t be together?
I’m all grown up now Ann. Most of my girlfriends still have their favorite childhood doll or stuffed animal, in some revered corner of their homes. But you, well as far as I know you are still there, stuffed into the corner of a toybox in a church nursery. You are still there, in a corner, right next to whatever remains of my 5 year old girlhood. I hope you take care of each other. There, in the dark. I hope you know, I would still take you both home, if I only knew how.
Sincerely, The Lady with the pretty name you always told me I could be
Dani was exhausted. It was only the first month of Aurora being home, and things just got progressively worse when Sarah had to go back to work. Dani was always on, always awake to make sure nothing happened to their baby. She hadn’t even moved the little girl into her nursery, keeping her in her small crib in the master bedroom, making it easier for the mothers to take shifts. Aurora was a blessing, of course, and so precious, but her sleep schedule was all over the place.
Dani found herself counting down the very minutes until Sarah got home, so when she was two hours late, Dani was on the verge of a breakdown from how desperate she was to have a break. itstartedwithapainting