Page 25 of Keeping the Score

He rolls his head on the back of the couch and looks at me with anguish filling his green eyes. “Andi. What the hell am I going to do?”

8

FORD

I still can’t believe this is happening.

Since the moment Willa appeared at my door, my life has devolved into out-of-control chaos. My living room is stuffed with baby things, my kitchen is full of bottles and nipples and formula, and I can still feel Matilda’s cries scraping against every nerve ending in my body. The helpless frustration at not being able to soothe her has me exhausted.

“This is really… wild,” Andi says. “Did you know you have a child?”

“No! Jesus.” I close my eyes. “I had no idea.”

“Why didn’t she tell you?”

“She said she wasn’t sure I was the father. She’d been with a couple of other guys around the same time. She decided to have the baby on her own, but around Matilda’s three-month birthday her eyes started changing color and Willa realized I had to be the father. And then… her parents got in that accident and she… well, she said she needed me.”

“That’s not fair to you,” Andi says quietly. “To dump all that on you out of the blue.”

“I agree. On the other hand, I don’t want to be that guy. Who doesn’t take responsibility for his own child. I just… I just don’t know how I’m going to handle this.” I turn to look at Andi again. “Training camps starts in a few days. I can’t exactly bring her along.”

“Well, no. You need a babysitter. Or a nanny.”

“How the hell do I find one of those?”

“I don’t know! I’m just trying to help. Come on, you’re a smart guy. You have to have some problem-solving skills.”

“I do not,” I say tiredly. “I think every brain cell in my head was destroyed by all that crying.”

“I do understand that,” she replies, slumping into the couch. “It’s a terrible, horrible sound.”

“Right?”

“Again, you’re smart enough to figure things out. I found out about the bath on Google. We’ll look up some other strategies for calming her down. We’ll look for a nanny.”

“I’m not going to find anyone before Thursday.”

She grimaces. “Probably true. But you never know.”

“I can’t do it right now. I’m exhausted.”

“Maybe you need a nap.”

“I never nap when it’s not a game day.” I close my eyes.

I roll my eyes. “I think you can deviate from your usual routine, since your routine didn’t include a baby.”

“True.” I lift my head which feels as heavy as planet Earth. “Okay.” I grab a cushion, shove it behind my head, and stretch out on the couch.

Andi stands, giving me room, but then walks toward the door.

“Where are you going?” I ask sharply.

“Home.” She blinks at me.

“Don’t go.”

She gives me big brown eyes from behind her tortoiseshell-framed glasses. “What? Why?”

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