Balancing Act

9

Rory loved winter days like this - the kind that had all the elements of a winter day but felt like spring was just around the corner, the warmth of the sun not quite melting the snow but making her want to bring out her spring coat. Yet there she was, still wrapped in her grey wintercoat, wishing she was there under different circumstances, waiting at the stairs of Celeste's and Jess' Brooklyn brownstone for the door in front of her to open. Based on the time, she knew that the doorbell was off limits and she'd simply texted Celeste, who'd told her to hold on a few minutes with an apologetic emoji. She'd been waiting for a good 7 minutes already, her fingers getting a little chilly, but as a mother herself, she figured Celeste probably had a good reason.

"Hey! Sorry about that, I didn't dare to leave until she was fully asleep, she's teething," Celeste explained, as she opened the door in a haste, having just put Evie to bed. Evie had been sleeping poorly all night, and it was needless to say she was tired, now just hoping Evie would catch up on her sleep with a lenghty nap, having just applied teething gel to sooth her.

"I've been there, don't worry about it," she replied, as she hung up her coat and toed off her Oxford boots.

"So what do I owe this pleasure?" Celeste asked, adding, "Coffee?" as if on instinct, as she walked towards the kitchen.

"Wow, aren't we formal. And as much as I would love that coffee, I can't," she added, somewhat surprisedly, following her.

"Oh, sorry, I forgot," Celeste replied, shaking her head, feeling momentarily embarrassed for having forgotten about Rory's pregnancy. She knew it of course, but somehow the plethora of things on her mind, she'd somehow brushed the thought aside completely.

Rory followed her to the kitchen and got herself a glass of water instead, feeling parched.

"You okay there? You seem a little off?" Rory cut to the chase, after having drunk the water with an audible gulp.

"Is it that obvious?" Celeste sighed, observing Rory, who was leaning against her kitchen counter.

Rory didn't quite reply, just tilted her head a little, pondering how to put it.

"You talked to Jess..." she concluded, seeing her worried look.

Rory nodded. There was no point to lie about it.

"I don't want you worrying, you have enough on your plate. I'm functional...," Celeste added with a weak voice, attempting to say in her own words that she wasn't endangering herself or anyone else, but she knew that whatever else she would say it was likely going to turn into sobs, which she prefer to avoid. She'd never really cried in front of her before, and the thought didn't seem very appealing, wanting to maintain at least some level of dignity.

"I'm worried about Jess too, about the two of you. And you. And believe me I know all about being functional but miserable," Rory replied, recalling the year 2016 which had been one of her own lowpoints from more than one aspect of her life.

"Jess is being kind of wonderful actually. All the things I ask of him, he does. Even if I tell him it's his fault, he just fixes it and frankly it's getting harder and harder to blame him for anything. Sure he works a lot but, but it's just all in my head, you know," Celeste admitted, landing into her armchair that overlooked the backyard, her legs pulled up to her chest. She hated to be this burden.

"I can't tell you how to fix this - but I can tell you that the only way to even begin to solve this is by talking or writing about it. It doesn't matter whether that person is me or Jess or someone professional, but it's largely about working on solutions instead of focusing on the obstacles, identifying what are the things you can change both activity wise and in your thinking, that'll cause change," Rory replied, years of therapy having left a permanent mark.