He stayed. Not out of love, I think, but because leaving in front of witnesses was suddenly more expensive than staying. The baby had a urinary tract infection, treatable, and we were home by six. He made his presentation. I did not ask how it went.
What that night showed me was not new. It was simply undeniable, in fluorescent light, in front of strangers. I had been the only parent for five months and telling myself it was the newborn phase. It was not the phase. It was him.
We separated in the spring. I did not fight for much, because there was not much of him to fight for. He sees her every other weekend, at his mother’s house, which is exactly where he wanted to be that night anyway.
Rosalind and I do not speak. My own mother moved closer in the summer and comes on the hard nights, of which there are fewer now.
My daughter is two. She has never once had a fever I could not handle alone, because alone turned out to be what I had always been, only now it is honest, and lighter for it.
He said he did not sign up for the stress. Neither did I. I signed up for a daughter, and I have never for one second wanted to hand her back. The night I placed her in his arms, I was not giving her away. I was finally refusing to be the only one holding everything, and the moment my hands were free, I understood they had been strong the whole time.
