Page 29 of Executive Decision

“He asked me to give the eulogy,” I said.

“Oh, Cal, that’s a lot.”

“It is,” I said.

The baby fussed in the other room.

“Motherfucker!” Kristy groaned. “She’s never going to sleep—never ever!”

She spun out of the room to pick up the baby.

“Can I help?” I called.

“Grab a bottle from the fridge and run it under hot water,” Kristy returned.

I did as asked, remarking on the disaster that was her fridge. The woman I’d lived with for six years had everything organized. She lived to shop at the Container Store. Now, there were just bags and bins piled up—a stark expression of how parenthood changed people. At forty-seven, I had no idea what it took to be a parent. I stood there, crying about losing a friend while Kristy had just pushed a human out of her body—a human that could not fend for itself.

Kristy returned with the baby. Whether by intent or habit, she swayed to soothe her daughter.

“I stopped pumping,” Kristy said. “It was killing me. The mom group acted like I was killing her, but… I wasn’t. Well, the formula is fucking great, but I still have a few bottles left from my stash. Hope you don’t mind handling boob milk.”

I snickered. “It’s fine. Not sure if this is warm enough.”

“We’ll see,” Kristy shrugged as I passed the bottle. “Should do okay.”

I followed her into the living room, where burping cloths covered every chair and bit of sofa.

“Sorry. The place is a disaster. Welcome to my life—as a single mother by choice. I bet you are grateful you missed all of this.”

I sat in a chair while she crashed on the couch. The baby already sucked away gleefully at the bottle. She was bright-eyed over the prospect of food.

“I am not, actually,” I said. “It’s sweet. You’re a good mom. You know everything already.”

“I know very little—just enough to be dangerous.”

“She’s perfect, Kristy. Really. And she’s ready to party.”

Kristy snickered. “Ah, yes. If she were a college kid, she’d be set to go out on the town. You don’t have to stay.”

“I’ll get out of your hair,” I agreed. “Unless you want me to.”

“Not unless you want to fold laundry.”

“I could help,” I offered.

“Mr. Mayor folding my laundry? Don’t be silly!”

“I need a distraction. You give me some perspective, okay?”

“The laundry basket is over there. I hope you like onesies and nursing tops,” Kristy said.

She didn’t mind me helping. I didn’t mind pitching in. It was comforting to hear her voice and watch the old movie on TV. I could disconnect and think back to what could have been. After a bit, I left and returned to the apartment we’d once shared. It felt more like I’d been in a dream than anything. It was like going back in time. It wasn’t reality. I’d always love Kristy, even if she could no longer love me, but I realized I’d broken the habit. She moved on. She’d found love with this little bundle she brought into the world. I needed to find joy as well.

Going back in time wouldn’t fix anything or give David more years. It wouldn’t change what happened with Kristy and me or fix divisions in society. I could either put myself to good use and move forward or wallow. I’d lick my wounds tonight, but tomorrow, I would do what I needed to move forward.

* * *

Daphne

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