Page 21 of Keeping the Score

I know nothing about babies. To be honest, I’m a little afraid of them. Tiny humans whose existence depends on you. Who cry for hours for no reason. Or maybe there is a reason—it’s because they’re dying, and you don’t know what to do about it. Terrifying!

“Come on, Matilda, stop crying,please.”

Matilda. I swallow. “I have no advice to offer, but I have another meeting in half an hour and I need for my clients tonothear screaming. They’ll think someone is torturing her.”

I turn and march back to my apartment.

In my office, I sink into the chair in front of the computer.

Why do I feel guilty? That’s not my baby. But… poor Ford. He looked stressed. And I just left him there.

How can it be his baby?

Okay, yes, I know how babies are made. Ford has never had a serious girlfriend, but he’s been with a lot of women. Yikes.

Did he know about the baby? I guess it’s possible and he never mentioned it to me? No, it’s not possible. I would have seen the baby. Heard the baby before now. Why did the baby just show up? This is so bizarre.

I can’t stop thinking about it and I’m still distracted when it’s time for my next meeting. I don’t hear the baby anymore, which is a good thing, so I manage to compartmentalize and focus on business.

Until we’re wrapping up and the wailing starts up again.

I see the startled looks on the faces of my clients.

“Sorry,” I say with a tight smile. “That’s my neighbor.”

“Wow, that’s loud,” Oliver says. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, yes!” I nod reassuringly, although I’m not at all certain. “Fine, fine! So we’ll meet again next week, same time… does that work for everyone?”

We all confirm and after I end the meeting I enter it into my calendar, trying to tune out the baby cries. It’s not so easy, though. Anxiety tightens my shoulders and my stomach. Is the baby okay? I mean, Matilda. IsFordokay? He did not look okay.

I have no more meetings, but still a ton of work to do. In my determination to succeed, I may have taken on more clients than I can handle by myself, but I don’t mind working long hours. I love my work. Right now, though, I abandon my work and stride to Ford’s place. When I knock, he answers quickly, still holding the baby but on the other shoulder.

“I’m sorry!” he bursts out. “I’m trying my best! I took her into my bedroom so you couldn’t hear her, but I had to come out here to get a diaper.”

“That’s probably what she needs.” I step into his condo. “A clean diaper.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” he mutters, turning to walk into his living room. “I tried that a while ago and it didn’t seem to help.”

I follow him. There’s a stain on his shoulder and all down the back of his shirt. I think it’s baby vomit. “Oh. Is she hungry?” That’s the extent of my baby knowledge. Feed them or change their diaper.

“No.” He forks his fingers into his thick hair. “I fed her.”

I eye Matilda, her cries amplifying the fear inside me. “How did this happen?”

Ford lifts an eyebrow.

“I know, I know.” I wave a hand and perch on the edge of a chair. “But who is the mother? And how did you just end up with this tiny human now? Were you keeping her secret?”

“Long story.” He paces, shifting the baby to cradle her in his arms and bounce her a little. “I’m still in shock.”

“No doubt.”

“Willa and I had a one-night stand. About a year ago.”

I’m doing math in my head. “Matilda is about three months old?”

“You got it. Well, actually almost four months. But the math is mathing.”

---