“Jack does a lot of that, too,” Kira said. “He’s like, ‘You’re just better at this stuff than I am.’ And I guess I am. Maybe women are in general. Just more equipped to care for these tiny humans.” She shrugged and glanced down at Caleb, who was still sleeping, sucking his paci rhythmically.
“We’re not, though,” Selena said, suddenly serious. “Or, if we are, it’s only because we don’t have a safety net. The doctor puts the baby into our arms when it’s born, and from that moment on, we’re the first line. We rise to it because we have to. Not because it’s intrinsically easier for us. I hate this idea that we’re in charge and the dads are just the assistants. Oh my God, the other day in the park, Cameron was holding Miles in the baby carrier, and I swear, every person we passed was giving him congratulatory ‘What a great dad’ looks. Like, it’s his kid, too! Of course he should be holding him! No one hands me a freaking medal when I tote him around all day, that’s for sure.”
Kira and I both nodded quietly. Selena’s words sat heavy for me. Every day for the last three months, I had heard this little voice in my head saying, You’re responsible for this human, so don’t screw it up. Also, you chose this, and it’s a freaking blessing, so stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’re a woman—you’re supposed to be good at this. This is your job. Your job. Your job. It wasn’t a kind voice. But I didn’t know how to make her shut up.
“Okay, I have another one.” Kira broke the brief, weighty silence, then paused to drain her glass with gusto. “Anyone else’s husband so damn loud? How did I never notice this before? He stomps around the apartment like he’s auditioning for freaking Riverdance!” Selena and I both burst out laughing. “Honestly,” she said, “I’m shocked the neighbors have never complained.”
“So true,” I said. “Even the way Tim turns on a light switch is enough to wake the baby. He literally slams it with his fist. Like it’s a jukebox and he’s John Travolta in Grease. It drives me crazy! I never even noticed it before we had Clara.” But as I joked, a blaze of guilt lit up my stomach, because I knew that, for all my husband’s noisy light switch usage, or the fact that he’d been a bit slow to warm up to his new role as a father, he was a much better person than me. Much. For reasons I tried hard not to let myself think about.
In the midst of our laughter, all three of our phones buzzed with a text from Vanessa to our group chain. The text read simply Hey all, but there were three little dots to indicate that she was still typing.
“I’m assuming Vanessa’s husband is perfect and super helpful,” Kira noted as we waited. Her tone was joking, but her eyes flashed with something a bit more serious.
“And good looking,” I offered.
Selena laughed. “And light on his feet.”
“And gentle on the light switches.” Kira giggled.
So I wasn’t the only one who had registered how off-puttingly perfect Vanessa was.
The next chunk of text that came in from her was extremely long. We each read it simultaneously, silently, to ourselves.
I walked past Isabel’s on my way home and there were police there. Her husband was outside so I stopped and introduced myself and asked if everything was okay. He said that Isabel had gone missing sometime last night, and they were trying to figure out where she was. Naomi is fine, she was on the steps with a lady who looked like she may have been a grandma. Anyway, I’m just updating you guys and I’ll let you know if there’s anything we can do to help or if I find out anything else. My convo with him was super short so that’s really all I know. Really alarming and concerning news. Take care, ladies.
“Holy shit,” Kira murmured.
“What the hell,” I added uselessly.
Selena said nothing. Her hand was on her mouth.
“What do you think happened to her?” I asked.
Kira looked down before bringing her eyes back up to meet ours. “I hate to even say this, but . . . do you guys think maybe . . . suicide? She seemed . . . stressed. I can barely remember seeing her smile.”
I didn’t want to admit it, but that’s the first thing I had wondered, too. There was something about her that just seemed a bit sad. Actually: very sad. And very anxious. The pristine way she dressed both herself and Naomi, the way she was always looking at her watch toward the end of our meetings. When someone is that wound up, there’s always a breaking point. Maybe she reached hers. Plus, there was what Vanessa had said about the police presence—maybe her husband knew she was a risk to herself, and that’s why the police were engaged, even though she’d only been missing for less than a day.