“Good,” Meredith said.
“I’m sorry.”
“These things happen. I’ll double-check the caddy from now on. I should have been doing it all along.”
“Okay.”
“How do you feel now?”
“Tired.”
She collected her keys and purse and looked at me closely. “Are you going to be all right?”
“Yeah.”
She lingered by the front door. “I could stay home, if…”
“It’s okay.”
“You’re positive.”
“Yes.”
“You’ll remember to put her monitor on?”
“I’ll remember.”
“Call me if you need anything.”
“Okay.”
“Anything at all.”
I kissed her goodbye, applying a few more degrees of pressure than usual to convey a confidence I did not feel.
After she’d pulled out of the driveway, I lay in the dark bedroom, the sensitivity of the baby monitor on high. A low hiss came from the receiver as it registered a sound in the nursery. I listened for a minute, then went down the hall and quietly opened Christine’s door. The nursery was dark, a blue halo coming from the nightlight on her dresser. I approached the crib and peered down at her sleeping body: arms stretched out on either side, like she’d died while trying to fly. I watched her chest for the subtle rise and fall of breath. She whimpered in her sleep and I reached down and took her hand in my own. If she was aware of me, she didn’t show it, breathing deeply and evenly. I let go of her hand and lay down on the floor beside the crib, watching her face through the bars, trying to guess what dreams were tumbling through her head, whether I was there, and in what guise—loving giant or capricious ogre. Having placed myself between Christine and any conceivable threat, I put my hands behind my head and shut my eyes.
What felt like seconds later, someone turned on the light. I rolled over, groping around on the floor for a weapon. Meredith was standing in the doorway in her scrubs.
“You’re back?” I said, groggily.
“It’s morning.”
“Really?”
“Didn’t you hear Christine crying?”
I looked over and saw Christine standing in her crib, her face streaked with tears. Sunlight was leaking around the blackout drapes. Meredith came over and hoisted her out.
“You haven’t been in here all night, have you?” she asked me.
I sat up with a groan. “She had a nightmare.”
“Oh no.” Meredith stroked Christine’s face. “Is that right? Did you have a bad dream, honey?” Christine nodded seriously. “Well, everything’s all right now. Daddy kept you safe, didn’t he?”
She nodded again, though it seemed to me with less certainty. I slowly got to my feet, as Meredith bounced Christine in her arms.
“Silly Daddy,” she said, keeping her voice light, while giving me a thoughtful look. “He didn’t even have a pillow.”
The next night I slept in Christine’s room again, with pillows and a blanket, and the night after that. By the end of the week, I’d installed a cheap air mattress on the floor.
“Do you think it’s good for her?” Meredith asked over Sunday breakfast. I watched Christine eat a diced-up pancake with her hands, ready to intervene at the first sign of choking.
“It makes me feel better,” I said.
“But she’s been sleeping so well on her own.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but I have concerns.”
“What kind of concerns?”
“Things happen.”
Meredith sighed. “Nothing’s going to happen, Felix.”
When we’d first started dating, she’d gone on at length about the children she’d seen in her time in emergency medicine. Kids with drain cleaner in their bellies and missing fingers; mortally injured babies hemorrhaging on gurneys. At the time, she’d maintained that nearly every one of those incidents could have been prevented with a little more adult supervision, but now that Christine was the one at risk, Meredith was strangely cavalier about it all.
“I just think we need to back off a little,” she said. “Give her some room to grow.”
I put down my utensils, no longer hungry. “In daycare, you mean.”
She’d been talking about enrolling Christine in daycare ever since her maternity leave had expired, in spite of my objections. “Well, yes,” she said. “Don’t you think it would be good for her to be around other kids?”
“She can do that at a playground.”
Meredith snorted, then raised a hand. “Sorry.”
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s just… when have you ever taken her to a playground?”
I glanced over at Christine in her booster seat, wondering how much of this she was taking in. She’d eaten half a pancake and was making swirling patterns in the syrup with her fingers. “Have some eggs, sweetie,” I said, and she made a face at me. I’d been cooking more since Meredith had gone back to work: wholesome, balanced meals. I kept the house clean and small objects out of reach. I’d bolted the bookshelves to the walls and stuffed the electrical outlets with protective plugs. I’d rigged the cupboards and doorknobs with childproof devices and installed baby gates at the top and bottom of the stairs. I literally never let Christine out of my sight. No daycare in the world could have kept her half as safe as I could keep her.
“She doesn’t need that,” I said, as Meredith filled a sippy cup with orange juice.
“What?”
“The juice. It’s bad for her teeth.”
“It has vitamins.”
“It’s loaded with sugar.”
Meredith put the sippy cup down, looking amused.
“Anyway,” I said. “It’s too late for daycare. They fill up months in advance.”
“That’s true. But there’s a place not far from the hospital. Olivia—the new intern I’ve been telling you about?—she knows the owner. She told me they can make room for Christine. They’re holding a spot.”
“When did you find this out?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.
“I don’t know. Sometime last week.”
“I want deuce,” Christine said quietly.
Meredith stroked her head. “I know you want juice, baby.”
“Last week? When did you plan on telling me?”
“I’m telling you now. We should at least think about it. They have a really good reputation.”
“I want deuce!” Christine said more loudly.
“It sounds expensive,” I said, nudging the milk I’d given Christine a bit closer.
“It’s actually quite reasonable.”
Christine glowered at me. “I. Want. Deuce!”
I grabbed the juice and slammed it onto her tray.
“Settle down,” Meredith said.
“It’s all she ever drinks,” I snapped, wanting to carry Christine to the nursery, close the door, and wall it off with heavy furniture.
Meredith regarded me sternly.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I just have a bad feeling about all this.”
“Why?”
Before I could answer, Christine tossed her sippy cup onto the floor. “All done,” she announced.
“Are you sure?” I said. “You didn’t touch your eggs.”
“No like.”
“Baby, it’s important.”
“No like!” She hit her plate with both hands. Scrambled eggs and half-eaten pancakes flew everywhere. I gave her a look and she started to cry. I tried to unstrap her from her booster seat, feeling Meredith watching me.
“Owie!” Christine yelled.
Her leg was caught. I jerked it loose.
“Owiiiiiiie!”
“It’s just ketchup,” I muttered.