Just walked out the door and into the hallway.
I sat there in the bed, sweaty, still hooked to monitors, holding a newborn who suddenly belonged to no one but me.
Melissa was already crumbling.
Nurse Bianca crouched beside me, her hand on my shoulder.
“Honey. Honey, look at me. Just breathe.”
I looked down at the tiny face in the blanket. Her eyes were closed. Her mouth made a small circle, opening and closing.
“You’re not going anywhere,” I whispered to her. “Do you hear me? You are not going anywhere.”
And somewhere out in that hallway, my brother was running from something I hadn’t figured out yet.
Nurse Bianca crouched beside me.
***
Three days after the delivery, my kitchen felt like a small courtroom.
Ryan stood on one side of the counter in the same jacket he’d worn to the hospital. I stood on the other side, still in the sweatpants I’d pulled on that morning between feedings.
