Yesterday was Patty's birthday. We celebrated at home, while Una napped. It was nothing special, I fear. Something I don't think Patty appreciated. I think she may have wanted to get a babysitter and to have gone out to celebrate in earnest.
But Una was only a week old. Maybe I was too protective already, but I didn't want to leave Una to the care of just anyone. So on my way home from work I bought a cake.
Once home, I unboxed the cake and set it down on the table. Patty sidled up to me, she had just come from the bedroom where she said Una was napping.
I kissed Patty's cheek and wished her a Happy Birthday. She didn't meet my gaze and said, "Thanks."
I don't know why she was so quiet, I could only assume she was upset that I wasn't taking her out.
When Una woke from her nap just after we cleaned up the cake, I went to get her from her crib.
I picked up the swaddled bundle with care, crooning to Una in comfort as she fretted and wiggled in my arms. I held her to my chest and took her to the main room where I caught Patty slipping on a jacket at the front door. She paused in her effort, her jacket half on, her eyes daring me to stop her.
"Where are you going?" I asked, feeling a little dumbfounded.
"Out," she replied curtly.
I heaved a sigh, trying to curb the simmering frustration. "What about Una?"
As if in response, Una fretted even louder in my arms. I began to bounce her a little in my arms.
"You're home now, there's a bottle in the fridge. I'm going out with my sister to celebrate my birthday."
Patty's tone brooked no argument. She grabbed her purse and walked out the door. She didn't even say good bye.
I fought the urge to run after Patty and force her to explain to me why she felt compelled to party when she had a new-born at home. Anger seized upon me, red-hot and swift.
Only Una's cries of hunger reminded me of my bigger responsibility of the moment. I fed Una, burped her, changed her soiled diapers, talked to her and cuddled her close.
But in the back of my mind burned the questions of why Patty left so abruptly and had never told me she had made her own plans for her birthday.
I tried waiting up or her, I had planned to talk to her but by the time she came home, I had given up and gone to bed.
I only remember her sidling up to me in bed, cuddling me when she hadn't before in all the time she'd lived here. I could only presume she'd drunk herself into some kind of stupor. I ignored her, feigned sleep and not long after she settled in bed behind me, she began to snore.
I fear this might only be the beginning of our problems.
~Tom Calico
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