Page 78 of Axe Backwards
He stopped a couple of feet away and raked his hand through his hair. It was a habit, a gesture he did multiple times a day, but it felt especially telling at this moment.
“No. You were perfect. You are perfect.” He sniffed and wiped at his face with the back of his wrist. “It’s me. On days like this, the grief is overwhelming.”
“Let me put her down.” I stepped in close and held my arms out to take the fussing baby. “Today was a lot. So many people and so much happiness. Give yourself a minute.”
Wordlessly, he let me take her.
Once she and I were in her room, I flipped on the small lamp on the dresser and laid her on the changing table. After a clean diaper and a fresh set of pajamas, I cuddled her and sank into the rocking chair.
While we rocked, I sang “Let it Go”—her favorite Disney song—off key. After several repeats of the chorus, which was about all I knew, her little eyelids became heavy and she drifted off.
I eased her into her crib, holding my breath and hoping she’d stay asleep. Then I switched on the fan and the white noise machine.
For a moment, all I could do was watch her sleep. One year old. I’d known this sweet baby for less than two months, but I was astounded at how much she’d grown and developed. Every single day was an adventure. I was so grateful to be along for the ride.
Carefully. I tiptoed out and closed the door behind me. In the hall, I breathed deeply again. Since that night she was sick, Tess had been mostly okay with sleeping in her crib. I was grateful that she’d settled in enough here to feel safe, but I missed the nights where Noah and I would take turns pacing. The nights I’d go to bed with the smell of him on my pillow.
In the living room, Noah sat on the couch, his head hanging.
I sat next to him and gathered his hands in mine. “Talk to me,” I pleaded. “Please let me in.”
He turned to me, his teary eyes holding mine. For a moment, he didn’t speak. Rather than pushing, I sat and waited. The best thing I could do for him was be here.
Finally, he cleared his throat.“I would give her anything. I would do anything. I love her so much.” He was so overcome he could barely get the words out.
I squeezed his hands harder. “I know you do.”
“But the one thing she needs, the one thing she deserves, I can’t give her. I can’t bring them back. Jack and Emily. She deserves her parents. They should be the ones planning birthday parties and cutting her strawberries the right way.”
“They chose you,” I said softly, emotion clogging in my throat. “They looked at that perfect baby and knew you’d take care of her. And you are doing an incredible job.”
With a sigh, he sat back.
He stared into the distance for a long time. Then, finally, he shook his head. “It’s my fault,” he whispered. “It should have been me. Tess should have her parents.”
I didn’t know much about how Jack and Emily had died. I assumed Noah would tell me when he was ready. Though I did know there was a fire.
“Fire is unpredictable. You told me that. You fought it and were injured yourself. It isnotyour fault. It’s no one’s fault. You can’t carry that guilt.”
As he met my eye, a tear crested his lashes.
“It was.”
I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed him hard. He was a large man, but I did my best to shelter him, and I prayed that it would be enough to anchor him as the grief took over.
He cried quietly into my neck, his tears dampening my shirt.
“For so long, I just kept moving. Always running. Always chasing the next rush, never worrying about the consequences. I’d push and push so I didn’t have to think.” He sniffled. “And now? Now I’m stuck with the quiet. With my thoughts. With the guilt that keeps pulling me down. They should be here. They should be celebrating her birthday.”
I stroked his hair and kissed his forehead, murmuring words of truth. I told him he was a good man, a great man, and a wonderful father. That it was okay to feel the way he did.
Day after day, minute after minute, he gave everything he had to his child. It broke my heart to know he was carrying the weight of this crushing guilt and grief. I wanted to take it away, to make it better. To give him joy.
But all I could do was be here to weather the storm alongside him. So as I held him, I cried too. For Tess, whose life began with tragedy, and Noah, who was plagued by a culpability that wasn’t his to bear. And I cried for myself. We were all broken people. We got up every day and worked to fill in the cracks, but no matter how much we toiled, they got deeper.
I’d never cried with a man before. I typically saved my tears for when I was alone, but there was no way I could control the tidal wave of emotions crashing over me.
After a while, he pulled back and snagged the box of tissues off the end table. As I took one from him, I couldn’t help but be grateful I’d taken my makeup off already. Otherwise, I’d look like a rabid raccoon.
