Page 17 of Misery In Me

“I’ll take care of Zoe,” I cut him off gently. “Go. You’ll be back before you know it.”

I force a smile, but it feels too thin, too fragile, to be the reassurance he needs. His gaze drops to my lips, and for a moment, I wonder if he’s about to kiss me, but instead, he just exhales, letting the air leave his lungs in a slow, controlled release.

“I don’t know how I’m going to keep doing this,” he mutters, his voice rough.

“I know,” I reply softly. “But you will.”

He hesitates for a second longer, his hand still hovering over the door. Then, with a final, heavy sigh, he pulls it open. The air outside is cooler than I expected, with the promise of rain hanging in the morning sky. Gage looks back over his shoulder once more before stepping through the door.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he says, but I can hear the doubt lingering in his voice.

“We’ll be here.”

And with that, he’s gone. I stand there, watching the door close behind him, feeling the weight of his absence settle on my shoulders like a heavy coat I didn’t ask for.

I’ll be here. Caring for Zoe.

Keeping it together for him.

For myself.

But even as I tell myself that, I can’t shake the nagging thought that this isn’t the last time we’ll have this issue with leaving. And next time, it might be harder to send him off.

I standby the door for a moment after Gage leaves, feeling the quiet of the house settle around me like a blanket. The kind of quiet that’s almost too much, too heavy, when you’re not used to it. But then I hear the soft murmur of Zoe’s cooing from the baby monitor, and it pulls me back into reality.

I move quickly, heading up the stairs, slipping out of my shoes before heading into her nursery and into the warm space where Zoe lies in her crib. Her little legs kick at the air and her eyes meet mine, and I smile, even though there’s a faint ache in my chest from Gage’s departure.

“Hey, baby girl,” I murmur as I rest my hands on the crib railing. “We’ve got this, huh?”

Zoe babbles in response, her hands reaching for the mobile above, and I laugh softly, pushing my worries aside for the moment. I pick up the rattle that lies next to her and shake it in front of her, watching as her tiny fingers grasp at it, so intent on the noise. The rhythm of her movements is calming, a reminder that things don’t always need to be complicated. Just keep her fed, changed, and happy. Easy, right?

The morning passes in a blur of bottle feeds, diaper changes, and me humming lullabies. Zoe naps in her crib, her tiny form curled into the softness of the blanket, and for the first time today, I allow myself to breathe a little easier. She’s safe. She’s fine. We’re fine.

But as I sip my coffee, the phone rings. I glance at the caller ID—Tia Elena. My stomach tightens as I answer. “Hola, Tia.”

“Alejandra,” she says, her voice warm but carrying a weight I know all too well. “¿Cómo es el nuevo trabajo? Esta vez es una recién nacida, ¿no?”

“Sí, un recién nacido. Una niña,se llama Zoé.Va bien. ¿Está todo bien por ahí?” I already know where this is going, but I let her say it.

There’s a pause on the other end. Then, in perfect English, “I need to ask something of you,mija. We’re struggling here. Juanita and Pedro need school supplies, and the bills... they’re piling up.”

I feel my pulse quicken; the guilt is squeezing tight in my chest. “How much do you need?”

"Well, the rent is six thousand pesos and another six hundred for food and supplies. Can you send it soon?”

I swallow hard, my mind already racing through the numbers in my head.So she probably needs closer to five hundred dollars to have a little extra.The last time I sent money, it was tight for me. The job here, the pay is good but I don’t want to send everything all at once. I also don’t want to say no, but the strain is already there in the lines of my voice. “I don’t know, Tia. I’m still getting settled here. Mr. Donovan is on a short deployment, and I’m handling Zoe alone...”

“I understand,mija,” she interrupts gently, but I hear the unspoken weight in her words.I’m counting on you.

“Está bien, tía, lo enviaré esta noche.”I can’t let them go without. What kind of sister would I be.

We talk for a few more minutes, and when I hang up, my mind is a whirlwind. I pull my knees up to my chest, staring out the window as the late morning light filters through the blinds. My younger siblings—mi hermanitaandmi hermanito—are depending on me. They don’t understand the responsibility of this choice I’ve made or the sacrifices I’m making to send money all while still trying to build a life here.

I remember why I took this job. It wasn’t just for me. It was for them. They don’t have the same opportunities I do, and everycent I send back is a lifeline. I want to be the best sister I can be. I have to be.

Zoe shifts in her crib, waking from her nap, and I stand up quickly, brushing away the anxiety bubbling in my stomach. I can’t let this affect her. Not now. Not when Gage is already gone, when she’s already too young to understand the gravity of what’s happening behind the scenes.

But I also can’t ignore my family. The struggle is real, and I have to figure out a way to carry it all.

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