I brushed off every cruel comment and convinced myself not to take it personally. Looking back, I should’ve known there would come a day when I’d finally reached my limit.
Five a.m. glowed blue on the nursery clock, and Onica was finally quiet against my shoulder. I rocked in the same worn chair where I’d fed Bradley three years earlier. My phone’s alarm would tell me to start pumping before my shower. A little voice floated in from the hallway.
“Mama? Is it morning-morning or nighttime-morning?”
“It’s shhh-morning, buddy,” I whispered back. “Go crawl in with Daddy. I’ll come get you soon.”
I rocked in the same worn chair.
“Daddy’s snoring.” “I know, sweetheart. He’s very good at it.” I heard tiny footsteps pad away, then a thump, then silence. I closed my eyes for exactly four seconds before Onica hiccupped awake. *** By 7 a.m., I was in the kitchen, pumping under my blazer while stirring oatmeal with my free hand. My laptop was open on the counter, a marketing deck already loading for my 9 a.m. meeting.
“He’s very good at it.”
*** I’d gone back to work weeks after having Onica because my husband, Carl, got laid off during the company’s “downsizing.” *** My husband shuffled in, his hair sticking out sideways, phone in his palm. “Coffee ready?” “You’ll have to make it,” I said. “Rough one?”
“She was up at two, four, and five.”
“You’ll have to make it.”
Carl grunted, scrolled through something on his screen, and tilted it away when I glanced over. Sports highlights, probably. Or the job board. I decided to believe it was the latter because believing anything else was too much work. “Alice dropped by yesterday,” I said, trying to sound cheerful. “She brought chicken casserole, and said I looked exhausted. But she said it nicely, you know? Like she meant it.”
I decided to believe it was the latter.
“Yeah, Alice is good like that.”
“Steve got lucky.” “Mm.” My husband kept scrolling. *** I glanced at the hallway mirror on my way to grab Bradley’s shoes. Stained hoodie. Ponytail from yesterday. There used to be a woman who wore heels to Friday dinners and put on lipstick just to take out the trash. She was in there somewhere, probably napping.
“Steve got lucky.”
*** I dropped the kids off at daycare, made it to my meeting with 30 seconds to spare, and told myself the same thing I’d been telling myself for weeks. I’d carried Carl through his rough patch. Now it was my turn to lean on him for a bit. That’s how marriages work. *** That night, I collapsed onto the couch next to my husband after finally getting both kids down. He was watching something.
That’s how marriages work.
“Long day,” I said. “Yeah, mine too. Job stuff,” Carl responded. “How’d it go?” “Slow,” he replied. “Hey, babe. Not to be a jerk, but once things settle down, maybe you should really think about going to the gym. You’ve gained a lot of weight lately.” I turned my head. “Sorry?” “I just mean, Alice makes it look so easy. The classes and everything. Might be good for you.”
“How’d it go?”
Alice was Carl’s new sister-in-law (SIL) and his brother Steven’s wife. I actually laughed because if I didn’t, I was going to cry into a throw pillow that still smelled of spit-up. *** I was overwhelmed by work, exhaustion, caring for a baby and our three-year-old, and the constant chaos of having two young children. There was always cleaning or cooking to do.
I actually laughed.
With my crazy schedule, I’d stopped taking care of myself. I’d forgotten what going to the gym was like. I’d forgotten what it was like to wear makeup, heels, or dresses. There simply wasn’t time for any of it. *** “Carl, I haven’t peed alone in three years.” “I’m just saying.” “I know. It’s fine.” I let it go because I was sure he didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I was sure of a lot of things back then.
“I’m just saying.”
*** The next few weeks blurred together. I pumped in the parking lot before meetings, warmed up leftovers with one hand while bouncing Onica in the other, and answered Bradley’s 50 questions about dinosaurs before I’d even taken off my shoes. Carl, meanwhile, developed a very consistent routine. That routine was the couch.
*** “Did you send out any applications today?” I asked one evening, stepping over a pile of laundry. “I’m networking,” my husband said without looking up from his phone.
I pumped in the parking lot.
“With whom?” “People. It’s not something you’d understand, Nina.” I let it go as I always did. *** The Alice comments started small, then multiplied like rabbits. At breakfast, over coffee, in the middle of me changing a diaper. “You should see Alice’s dance class videos,” Carl said one morning. “She dances beautifully, has an athletic body, and wears short skirts! And you?”
“It’s not something you’d understand.”
“That’s great for her,” I muttered, wiping applesauce off Bradley’s chin.
“You used to have that kind of energy.”
I stopped wiping. My son stared at me with big eyes, applesauce still on his eyebrow. “Carl, I had a baby recently.” “I’m just saying. Alice still finds time for her dance classes.”
I stopped wiping.
“Alice is 28 and doesn’t have a newborn strapped to her chest.” My husband shrugged as if I’d made his point for him. *** That night, I tried one more time to have an actual conversation. “I need help around the house,” I said. “You’re home all day. I’m not asking for miracles. I’m asking for dishes.” “I’m dealing with a lot right now.” “So am I.”
I tried one more time.
“It’s different, Nina.” “How?” Carl didn’t answer. He just picked up his phone, and I noticed, again, how he tilted the screen away from me before tapping it.
I told myself I was imagining it. *** The little things started stacking up like a bad Jenga tower. Carl showered before Steve and Alice came over. Not a regular shower. A full production, with the cologne he used to save for anniversaries.
I was imagining it.
“Big plans?” I teased, watching my husband fuss with his collar. “Just want to look decent.” “You looked decent yesterday in gym shorts you haven’t washed in a week.” “Very funny.” *** At lunch, Carl volunteered to drive Alice home because “Steve had that thing to get to.” I didn’t remember my brother-in-law (BIL) mentioning a thing. Neither did Steve, apparently, judging by the confused look on his face.
“Just want to look decent.”
Alice caught my eye across the table. She held my gaze a second too long.
*** Later, she texted me. Not about Carl’s strange behavior. Just, “How are you doing, really? I bought too much lasagna. Want me to drop some off?” Then she started showing up with more food. She even held Onica while I finally ate something warm.
Alice caught my eye.
My new SIL asked about my job as if she actually wanted to hear the answer. I kept waiting for the catch. It never came. *** “You seem tired, Nina,” Alice said one afternoon, sitting on my kitchen floor while Bradley showed her his dinosaur collection. “I’m okay.”
“You don’t have to be okay with me.”
I almost cried. I blamed the hormones.
I kept waiting for the catch.
*** That week, I tried to reclaim something. I decided I’d do one squat while the oatmeal spun in the microwave.
How hard could it be? Very hard, apparently. Something in my lower back popped, and I froze mid-squat, my arms out as if I were surrendering to a very small army. Bradley wandered in, took one long look, and tilted his head.
I tried to reclaim something.
“Mommy, why are you stuck like a frog? Are you gonna hop?”
“No, sweetheart.” “Can you hop?” “Not currently, no.” My son nodded thoughtfully, opened the fridge, and helped himself to some string cheese while his mother remained crouched by the microwave.
“Can you hop?”
I laughed until I cried, and then very slowly straightened up like a folding chair with trust issues. That was the highlight of my week: a three-year-old comparing me to a frog. ***
That evening, Carl was at it again. “Have you seen Alice? She’s literally the definition of beauty.” I’d noticed how often my husband and his brother talked about how perfect Alice was.
I laughed until I cried.
Still, I tried to keep the peace and calmly said, “That’s nice of you to notice her, but right now beauty is the last thing on my mind. I’m simply trying to survive with a schedule like mine.” I held onto the hope that he understood me. I wasted my time. *** Friday night, Carl came home practically bouncing. “So,” he announced, cracking open a beer he didn’t buy. “I’m throwing a pool party. For my 40th. A big one!”
I tried to keep the peace.
“Here?” “Where else? Steve’s coming. Alice too, obviously.” Obviously.
“Carl, I’m exhausted. Onica isn’t sleeping through the night. Bradley…”
“Nina. It’s my 40th!” I looked at him. The fresh haircut he hadn’t mentioned, I thought of his phone lying face down on the counter, and how he used to bring me flowers just because. “Fine,” I said. “We’ll have a party.”
“Where else?”
Quietly, standing there in a stained top, I decided that whatever it took, I was going to walk out to that pool looking like the woman I remembered being. *** Four a.m. came fast that Saturday. I stood in the kitchen with a piping bag in one hand and a bottle warmer in the other. I was icing cupcakes while Onica dozed in the bouncer at my feet. Carl was still asleep upstairs.
I was icing cupcakes.
*** By 9 a.m., I had strung lights around the patio, blown up an inflatable palm tree, dressed my son in tiny swim trunks, and taped a “Happy 40th” banner over the fence.
My husband wandered down an hour later and yawned. “Wow, the place looks decent,” he said. “You didn’t overdo the cheesy stuff, right?” “Just the right amount of cheesy,” I told him.
My husband wandered down.
*** Guests started arriving at noon. Steve came in with a cooler on his shoulder. Alice walked in behind him, carrying a huge platter of fruit. She saw me and rushed over for a hug before I could even say hi. “Nina, sit down. I mean it,” she whispered. “Let me hold Onica. Go eat something that isn’t a Goldfish cracker.” I laughed, surprised.
“Let me hold Onica.”
“You sure?” “Give me that baby,” my SIL said, already lifting Onica out of my arms. I ate a deviled egg standing up like a raccoon. ***
Around two, I finally went upstairs, dug out the one swimsuit that still fit, and stared at myself in the mirror for a long time before pulling it on. I told myself I looked fine. I’d made two humans. I walked out to the pool with my head held high.
“Give me that baby.”
*** Everyone who knew how to swim was in the pool. Steve was in the shallow end next to Carl, holding a beer he wasn’t drinking. Alice was sitting on a lounger with Onica asleep on her chest. I stepped closer, and that’s when Carl burst out laughing. Loud. Ugly. Steve joined in before he saw my face. Then he stared down at the water as if he wished he were anywhere else on earth. I froze. “What’s so funny?” I asked.
I stepped closer.
My husband wiped his eyes. “Sorry, sorry, I couldn’t help it! Alice was just swimming, and, I mean, come on. She clearly looks more attractive in a swimsuit than you do.”
The whole patio went quiet. Someone’s fork clinked against a plate. Alice’s face turned to stone. It hurt to hear that, but I didn’t say anything. I just thought, I’ve had enough.
“I couldn’t help it!”
I turned around, walked back into the house, up the stairs, and shut the bedroom door behind me. I sat on the edge of the bed and pressed both hands over my mouth. A soft knock came a second later. Alice slipped in and closed the door behind her. “Nina,” she said quietly. “I have to tell you something, and I’ve been sick over it for weeks.”
“Alice, please, I really can’t right now.”
“You can,” she said. “You need to.”
I turned around.
My SIL sat next to me and took out her phone.
“Carl has been texting me for weeks,” she said. “Photos. Asking me to meet him for coffee. Telling me his marriage is ‘basically over.’ I never once answered, but I saved every single message. I told Steve just now.” Don’t miss
