A Storm Is Brewing

Night at Home

Leah and I said a teary goodbye to Teddy at 9 p.m., the nurses promising us that they would call if anything changed at all. We were assured that there was nothing to worry about and that this was a healthy exercise that we needed to do in preparation for our son coming home, neither of which made it any easier.

Both of us shuffled around the sofa, paced around the house, and tidied things that we had tidied five minutes before. Nothing was distracting us.

"I think I'm just going to go to bed, Le." I sighed.
"Okay. Night, Soph."
"You aren't coming?"
"Not yet." She said softly, placing a kiss on my cheek.

This feels off. We feel off.

I climbed into bed, rustling about in the covers to try and will my body to stop, but nothing could prevent the tears that began to fall from my eyes. I couldn't understand it. Leah had talked earlier that day about cuddling me to sleep and waking me up with a proper kiss, but here I was in bed by myself, wondering if she even planned on coming to bed. Eventually, my eyes tired enough to close and only opened again when Leah's arrival made the mattress wobble slightly. I stayed facing the opposite way, not wanting to let her know I was awake.

She'll wrap her arms around me any minute now.

Any minute.

That minute never came, though. I listened as Leah found a comfortable position to sleep in and set an alarm for the following morning; here come those tears again.

"You promised." I whimpered.
"Promised what?" Leah whispered.
"That you would cuddle me to sleep."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"Night, Leah." I sighed.
"Goodnight, Soph."

I waited for almost half an hour for Leah to fall asleep before trying to silently make my exit. I guess she realised when I lifted my pillow that I was planning on leaving for the night, and not just for the bathroom or something.

"Please don't go." She whispered vulnerably.
"Okay - sorry."

I moved back onto the bed, my back against the headboard, and swirled my wedding ring around my finger. Leah didn't move at first, but slowly her hand crept towards mine and interlocked our fingers.

"Why did you promise me all of that if you were just trying to get me to do what the doctor wanted?"
"What do you mean, Soph?"
"You built it up in my head and made me think that being here would be okay because you were going to look after me; we were going to look after each other. You've hardly spoken to me; you know you put your hand on my back getting into the lift as we left the hospital, and that's the last time you touched me?"
"That's not true."
"How?"

She thought for a second.

"I'm touching you now." She said, holding our hands up.
"Yes, because I was going to leave and sleep downstairs, and you needed me to stay here."
"Yeah. You're right. I'm sorry."
"I don't know what I've done. I don't know why you don't want to be near me. We were fine when we left the hospital. You said we should stay home."

Leah did the only thing she felt safe doing in that moment: she dropped my hand, got out of bed, and made her way downstairs.

"Leah!" I shouted after her.
"I can't, Soph. I'm sorry, I can't."

What has gotten into her?

I followed her a few minutes later, finding her curled into the corner of the sofa with her phone turned sideways, her fingers tracing over the screen, and her eyes filled with tears.

"You're allowed to miss him too, Le." I whispered from the doorway.
"I know."
"Can I sit?"
"You don't need to ask."

I interlocked our fingers again, not wanting to overstep whatever protective barriers Leah seemed to have erected around herself.