Stay Away from Her Pt. 07

Welcome back, sickos. No reward in this one for your endurance, I fear. The next couple of chapters, tho...

April

"No, Scott just got out of surgery and I'm going to visit," I remind her. "You're supposed to watch Seth tonight."

"I'm going out," Chrisette repeats stubbornly. "Tell Todd to watch him. He's super good with Seth."

That is one trait of Todd's that we can actually agree on. He is super good with our son. However, Todd is on some job site four hours away, and he's not getting back in time to babysit.

"He doesn't get back until after the visiting hours are over. Scotty's sister put a whole meal train signup together. I told you about this." I sound so whiny. "It's on the calendar."

Chrisette responds by kissing my forehead as she puts her earrings in. "Get something delivered or visit tomorrow during the day. Rowan's only in town tonight." She's out the door before I can form my next protest.

Running through my list of childless friends in town takes about eight seconds. I haven't seen most of them since the wedding; it'd be too weird to call them suddenly to come sit on my couch for an hour while Seth sleeps. And then if Todd came back while I was still out, and then he's the one to explain why he has a key to my house? The most I tell anybody is "He's staying with us for a while," but even that leads to more questions, so... I guess I haven't been talking to anyone, really.

It's fine. I text Scotty and his sister, update the meal train calendar, and scoop Seth up for bedtime. He's been fussy all day but doesn't have a fever. We rock in the dark of his bedroom--I can't remember any lullabies so I sing him "Stacey's Mom" for an hour--but my poor baby won't settle down. He's usually a good sleeper. Is he okay?

I even text my mom. Hey, can you think of any reason why Seth would be crying after months of sleeping well? I don't think he's sick.

Mom must be off work tonight, because she replies immediately. Babies will go through sleep regression every now and then. As long as he's fed, clean, dry, and warm then he'll be fine. If he's teething you can give him Children's Tylenol.

Okay, so I just didn't come at this from the common sense angle. No new teeth seem to be coming in, but I give my kid some Tylenol anyway. "Sleep is for champions," I whisper encouragingly as I set Seth in his crib. He's screaming at me before I'm out of the room.

Maybe I'll get some work done. I'm not behind yet, but lately it feels like my brain is going bad. Everything takes longer. Tonight, though, I can at least put together some mood boards for one of my clients.

Seth finds a new decibel and I give up quickly. I can't focus with my kid bawling his eyes out twenty feet away. Am I being too harsh? What if he pooped and I'm just ignoring it? But he just went, so he should be good for a few more hours... Seth is still wailing when Todd walks in.

"Do you need me to tag in?" he asks.

I shake my head. "He needs to cry it out and go to sleep." My voice shakes, which makes me realize that my hands are shaking, too. I clench them. "He's fed, dry, and clean. He doesn't have a fever."

"Is Chrisette out?"

"Yeah." Why am I having so much trouble breathing? Am I having a heart attack? I'm not even thirty!

Todd puts his bag down on the kitchen table. "Dude, are you okay?"

"Fine." Not fine--my airway is shutting down. I'm gonna throw up.

"You sure?" He reaches for my head area, probably just to clap me on the shoulder, but I knock his hand away. He gives me calm down hands.

"Just... don't touch me right now."

"Okay, I won't."

I clasp my hands above my head to try and open my ribcage. My nose is tingling and my eyes feel weird. Air seems thinner; my lungs can't get enough. I'm sweating even though the house is cool. My heart beats erratically. "My chest--I think I might be having a heart attack."

Todd approaches slowly. "Jesse, hey, let me help."

He's walking like he's Chris Pratt in a fucking raptor cage, and also I can't stop gasping long enough to tell him to fuck off so I let him get close and the guy... I almost laugh, because his whole "help" business is to give me a fucking hug. He's all careful about it, too, like I'm gonna freak out on him or something. I mean, it'd be funny if that isn't when I realize I'm crying.

"This is a panic attack," Todd says. "You aren't dying. Hang onto me."

What if he's wrong and I am dying? Does a panic attack mean that I have anxiety? Do I need meds? What if Chrisette's issues are because of my bullshit and I should have been the one seeing a psychiatrist? How am I gonna be a fucking dad if I can't get my shit together? I can't even fucking get goddam air in my fucking lungs!

"You're so stressed that your brain and body are out of sync," Todd continues, apparently unbothered that I'm literally dying in his arms. "This is a panic attack. You can breathe. I can feel it."

"No, I can't." My lungs are shriveling up; I can tell.

"It's a panic attack. You can breathe with me. Can you feel my chest moving?"

"Yeah."

"I can feel yours. Let's take some big breaths together."

I try, but I'm shaking and also I'm probably dying and Seth will be alone and I'll be alone and dead.

Todd places his hands on my back just below my ribs. "On this next breath I want to see if you can press against my hands. Can you do that?"

I nodded.

"Okay, try with me. Good. While we breath out, we're going to count to seven. I'll do it with you."

I don't know how long we stay like that, Todd wrapped around me, my fists clenched by my sides, before I realize I can get air into my lungs without trouble. Fucking embarrassing.

"Sorry, dude," I say, pulling away. "It's been a long day." It's been a long year.

Shrugging, Todd guides me to the couch. He repeats in that soft, soothing tone, "Keep taking even breaths," as he sits me down. I feel strung out.

He gets me some water and puts one of Chrisette's fuzzy throw blankets around my shoulders. I'm not cold, but the weight is nice. I wish I had one of those Temple Grandin cow-squeezing machines.

"Can you," I start, but my voice is garbled. I try again. "Can you, like, put some pressure on me?"

"Absolutely," Todd says, and sits so that he can pull my back against his chest and wrap his arms around me. He squeezes so that my arms are trapped, and like Seth in his sleep sack I find this immobility helpful. He pulls his feet onto the couch so that he can cage me in with his knees. "Like this?"

"Yeah. Just, um, hang on."

I don't actually know what I mean but I think Todd gets it since he nudges my head back onto his shoulder so he can press his cheek to my forehead, too. "I got you," he says repeatedly. "I got you."

I think I'm broken.

The next sound I register is the front door opening. My head is on a pillow, but it really feels like I took a nap on Todd. Like the pillow is on him.

"What the hell?" Chrisette giggles drunkenly.

Todd shushes her and pats my back, which I realize he's been doing for a while. I am in his lap. "Babe had a really, really hard day," he whispers. "He's been asleep for about an hour."

"Seriously?" Chrisette's boozy breath brushes my cheek when she leans over the back of the couch. "Leave him there and come to bed." She kisses Todd, and the wet smacking sound makes me want to scrub my ears.

"Ugh, go brush your teeth," Todd replies.

Chrisette breathes on him exaggeratedly before stumbling down the hall. She's a happy drunk, at least. While the water runs I feel Todd slide out from under me. He takes my shoes off, my belt, unbuttons my jeans and pulls a blanket over me. The tap shuts off in the bathroom.

"Todd, come on," Chrisette whines from the hall.

I open my eyes to see Todd's light-colored gaze directed at me. I am too fucking tired of everything to do more than blink at him. Please tell her no for once. Todd sighs and stands, briefly puts his hand on my head, and then walks down the hall.

I lie on the couch, listening to my wife fuck her boyfriend in our bed. At least the baby is quiet.

Later that week Todd pops his head in Seth's room during our morning routine. "When you were working out, did you go to a gym or do it at home?"

Seth abbaabbaabbaa's at Todd, clearly tired of this diaper change, and flails happily.

"Stay still, dude! There's still poop on you!" I address my kid before answering Todd. "Uh, mostly at home. The weight rack was in the garage, but then you had stuff, so..."

Todd ignores the dig. "My gym has childcare from six to ten. Bring Seth and come before work. You're up anyway."

"I don't have--" I start to protest, but Todd cuts me off.

"Hey man, if you only stay in this house and stress about everything then you're gonna keep having panic attacks." He raps the doorframe with his knuckles like the matter is settled. "I'll put all of us on my membership, so just come. I'll drive."

Am I going to turn down free-ish childcare and the chance to leave my house? Yes I would, except the next morning Todd has packed the diaper bag and a gym bag for me by the time Seth is finished with breakfast. Three days a week we all go to the gym. Todd doesn't try to talk to me unless it's about house stuff.

A few weeks later Chrisette eyes me as I'm setting the table. "Arm day is working, Babe," she says appreciatively.

I glance up at her in surprise. "Thanks." She sounds like she used to, like when she would walk up and bite me for no reason. It was weird and I loved it and I didn't realize I missed it.

"You seem less mopey, too," she goes on. "The endorphins are doing their job."

I up the gym visits to five times a week.

July

Even with the sun down it's too hot to be outside, but that means everyone else is indoors. There are so many fucking people in my house right now. The sticky night air is heavy in my lungs, which turns each swallow of soda into syrup. If I drank alcohol, this would probably be a good night for a cold beer.

Laughter swells inside the house, which is good because it means no one is going to come looking for me. I smiled as much as I could already. Chrisette made a bunch of new friends since she and Todd got together--pissed Sasha off and blew up their friend group--and I don't want to answer a single question or learn a name. Maybe I'm being a little bitch, but at least I'm not spoiling the party, right?

The swish and click of the sliding door announces an intruder. Who else would it be aside from Todd?

"There are a lot of people in your house right now," he comments, handing me another cold soda can as he sits down beside me.

"I think I know four of them," I reply, "and I'm including you and Chrisette."

Todd chuckles. "You married the world's biggest extrovert."

"You're telling me."

For a moment we sit in comfortable silence. Someone is playing the piano. I can tell it's not Chrisette; she plays way better than that.

Sweat makes its tickling way down the back of my neck as I finish off my lukewarm cola and press the frosty new one to my temple. Three, no, four fireflies signal each other in tall grass. Isn't that supposed to be a sign that there's clean water nearby? I need to mow tomorrow. Or maybe I'll leave it for the fireflies.

Todd ruins everything by opening his mouth. "No offense, but why are you still here? I mean, if not just for Seth."

If I look at him I'll want to punch him, so I keep my eyes on the lawn. "Offense taken. I'm not going to be the one who calls it quits."

He whistles. "You're either an optimist or a masochist, dude."

"I'm a realist. The longer I hang in there, the more likely you'll get bored and move on."

Todd says nothing. Did I hurt his feelings? Maybe because he brought me a cold drink I feel the need to justify myself.

"Be for real, man," I explain. "This whole thing is not sustainable. Chrisette needs stability more than a fucking enabler."

"Jesse." Here Todd pauses for so long that I think he's done. But nope. "She still wants to leave."

Fuck. I knew it. I knew it in my head, but I kept hoping against goddam hope..."She didn't tell me that," I reply stubbornly.

Todd sighs heavily. "You know she wouldn't. In her own way, I think she's trying not to hurt you."

"Then why are you telling me?" I keep counting fireflies. There might be seven out there.

In my peripheral vision Todd shrugs. "You deserve to know if you're going to be down a spouse."

I don't know why, but that makes me laugh. "Thanks, buddy. You're a real pal."

"Come on, Jesse," Todd says quietly. "I'm trying to keep her here."

On this sticky summer night with my home full of strangers, it's easier just to believe him. For a while, at least, I'll pretend that we're two guys holding a family together as best we know how.

August

The house is weirdly quiet when I get back from my Saturday morning run. "Morning," I greet Chrisette, who's fully dressed and leaning on the back of the couch. Where's Seth?"

Chrisette doesn't look up from her phone. "Todd has him. Something something play date."

"The fuck?"

Now she lifts her eyes. "Somebody from the gym--Liam's mom, maybe?--invited Seth to this thing for toddlers at the library. You were busy, so Todd went."

I try to keep my voice casual. Neutral. "Why didn't you go?"

Chrisette shrugs. "Todd wanted to. I don't know any of your gym friends"

I drop my shoes by the front door. "And you couldn't fucking ask me?" So much for neutral.

"Ugh. Jesse, quit acting like Todd is some stranger. You're not the only one who gets to make decisions," Chrisette's voice rises, "about my son who I carrried to term in my fucking uterus and then pushed out of my vagina."

"I didn't say--"

"It's what you meant, asshole! Oh my god, I am so sick of your self-righteousness!"

This has turned so fast that I get the hot-then-cold tingles that normally come with being caught doing something wrong. "Can we take a beat? I'm just saying that Todd is not a primary caregiver of our kid, so one of us should be there."

Now Chrisette rolls her eyes. "Fine. God forbid I have a guilt-free day off."

I'm about to take issue with that until I realize how bad I fucked this up. This was my chance to have alone time with my wife, and I made it about Todd. "Can I," I propose, "apologize by taking you out for brunch? There's a new mimosa special at Melt. I'll drive."

She sighs, clearly struggling to let go of the argument. "Thanks, baby, but I'm meeting some people."

"Who?" I ask, then at Chrisette's irritated look I check my tone. "Did any of them come to the party, I mean."

"Lauren did, but I don't think you met her." Chrisette stands, gathering her thick dark hair into a ponytail. There's something so sexy about that, and I kick myself again for starting a fight. "My ride is here."

I turn to see a sedan with a bright rideshare logo on the dash pulling up to the curb. For some reason I'm feeling desperate to be useful. "Hey, if you want me to pick you up later, I can. I'm always happy to be your chauffeur, you know."

Chrisette puts her phone away and kisses my cheek on her way past. "Don't worry about it. See you later."

For the first time in months I am alone in my house. What do I do with myself? Shower, but then... what? What's appropriate for alone time that could end in less than an hour? I end up wasting all my time on my phone, but it's nice to do nothing for a little bit.

It's well after two o'clock when I start to get really worried. They should be back by now. Toddler-centered events never last very long, and even if Todd had literally just left when I got back, and even if there was some lunch thing involved, they should be back. Seth's afternoon nap is gonna be ruined if he doesn't--

"Ooo!"

I'm so startled that I drop my phone. It clatters to the floor accompanied by Seth's high-pitched laughter and Todd's deeper snickers.

"Godammit," I grumble as I bend down to check the screen. Still intact.

"Ooo!" Seth shouts. "Ooo! Ooo! Ooo!"

I hold out my arms so he can fall into them. "Yep, you scared the bejeezus out of Daddy."

Todd is grinning like he's done nothing wrong. "We heard you in the kitchen and I think Seth actually tried to shush me. Little man has a sense of humor."

"Big man should know better than to take my kid without telling me," I reply in a tone that makes both Todd and my kid look at me warily.

"Big man volunteered and Mommy said it would be fine." Todd's tone tells me he knows I want to strangle him. "Come on, Jesse, have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?"

I glare at him.

"With Seth," Todd amends.

The little man himself starts squirming to be put down. I lower him to the ground so I don't have to look Todd in the eye when I grunt, "No."

My argument with Chrisette springs to mind immediately. "Sorry," I say begrudgingly. "You are a trusted caregiver."

Todd huffs amusedly. "So, there's a face you make when you realize that you're wrong in the middle of a sentence."

"Huh?"

"No, it's kinda... it makes me like you better."

"Neat," I respond drily.

"You're forgiven for overlooking my Super Nanny powers."

I watch Seth crawl over to the coffee table so I don't have to meet Todd's gaze. "Good."

"And for thinking that I would ever presume to hijack your parenting just because you don't like me."

"Thanks so much." Seth is drooling a lot. I need to make sure all the bibs get washed tonight.

"And I promise I'll make sure you're aware when I'm filling in for Chrissy. I shouldn't have assumed you were in the know."

I still keep my eyes on Seth. He's so, so close to walking. "Much obliged."

"Now help me make dinner."

"What?" Only now do I notice that Todd had a few grocery bags with he walked in.

"We had lunch in the park and went grocery shopping on the way home. Help me make spaghetti."

I can feel my eyebrows scrunching together. "Isn't that, like, three ingredients?"

Todd sighs. "Peasant. I make it from scratch." Then he immediately brightens up and digs his phone out of his pocket. "Also, let me drop you a bunch of stuff. I took so many photos; Seth did amazing at this thing. It was all musical instruments..."

Well, if he's talking about my kid I guess it's fine to hang out with Todd. He shows me a video of Seth banging on this teeny red piano--Seth looks so proud of himself! Little Mozart!--and hovers over my shoulder while he talks. By the time we've watched all the videos and gone over which kids and parents were there, the tension has left my shoulders. We drag the high chair to the bar so Seth can watch what we're doing and have a snack, and then we cook together. Todd shows me a shortcut for forming meatballs with an ice cream scoop that I forgot we had. It's fine for this to feel fine.

Also it's not weird if we have a, like, very domestic dinner that evening. We've been doing this with Chrisette for a while, and she's just not here, is all. Even with stripping Seth down to his diaper, eating spaghetti means he needs a full bath. Seth likes to have all his people in sight, so it makes sense that Todd comes with us, perching on the toilet lid and handing back all the toys Seth throws out of the tub. It makes sense for Todd to be part of the bedtime routine. And of course then we'll clean up the kitchen and dining room together.

I almost let it go without saying anything, but by the time we're almost done with dishes we've spent almost five hours together. Just hanging out.

"You don't have to feel any type of way about it," Todd says with a shrug. "We're all still figuring this out." His tone is careful, like he's ready for me to start hyperventilating again.

Handing him the ladle to dry, I reply, "No, I don't mean that it's bad. I wish it was Chrisette and not you, but... whatever."

"Rude," Todd chuckles, "but I get what you mean. Neutral has been hard to find."

"Neutral! Dude, that's exactly what I've been missing!" I exclaim. "Everything has been tense, and bad, and frustrating, and scary, for so long that the only way I know that time is passing is that Seth keeps transforming in front of my eyes. Every new tooth is like, 'it's a new day! Keep going, motherfucker!'"

Todd huffs kinda sadly. "I hear you."

I pause my scrubbing to give him a judgemental look. "Do you, man?"

He shrugs, leaning past me to put the ladle away. "Jesse, this is hard for me, too. Definitely not like it is for you, but it's taxing."

"Nobody's having fun here, huh?" I laugh morosely.

"I can help you more," Todd offers. "I'm trying to help."

His money helps, his cooking helps, he's changed as many diapers as Chrisette has, he also did all those home projects I guess, but, "Bro, you just said it's hard for you."

Todd flips the dish towel over his shoulder and leans against the counter. "Of course it is. I'm in too deep."

Against my better judgment I ask, "What does that mean?"

"I have thought about leaving, but..." Todd shrugs. "I legit thought postpartum might kill Chrissy back then, and though she's better now it was fucking scary for a few months. It's still scary sometimes--you've seen it. So I worry about how she would react. I worry about Seth. I worry about the burden it would put on you if she had a relapse. It's all too tangled up."

Now I have a bunch of questions that all have depressing answers. I hand Todd the spaghetti pot I finished washing. "You make it sound like we're forming a rat king."

That makes him laugh. "In a sense. Even my therapist thinks this whole situation is royally fucked."

"You go to therapy, bro?"

"Yeah, bro. Although I think she might fire me as a patient."

"Wait," I turn all the way around, incredulous. "Why? Can she do that?"

Todd gestures around with the pot. "I don't know--because of the rat king? Imagine if Scotty or Joe were to be like, 'Help me, Jesse. I'm in a weird, codependent throuple and one of them actively hates me!' Nobody has those tools."

"I don't... hate... you." The words seem to stick in my throat.

Now Todd fully guffaws. "Oh my god, your lil' face! That was so hard for you to say!"

Reluctantly I smile. "I mostly mean it."

Todd laughs harder, and then I can actually mean it because he's always the guy who has everything under control. Oh look at me, I'm Todd. I'm so cool and collected and handsome and nothing ever gets to me. But now he's in my kitchen, holding a big old stock pot, having a giggle fit because I tried--not even that hard--to be nice to him.

September

I wipe my face with my shirt and throw it over the mower handle. I should have gotten one of those self-propelled ones, but I was trying to save a buck. This one was a neighborhood estate sale find that I towed home with a bungee around my waist while I pushed Seth's stroller ahead of me.

Chrisette catches my eye by waving from the patio. Seth is on her hip, waving too. I shut the mower off.

"We're heading out," she calls. She's smiling, but she still looks nervous. This is supposed to be the big fence-mending with her folks; the first time they'll see Seth since the whole Todd thing. They specifically requested that I not be there.

"You're smart, beautiful, and charming!" I shout back as encouragement. "You got this, baby."

She has Seth blow me a kiss--he's almost got it down--and I get back to my task. Now I can turn my music all the way up in my headphones and drown out every thought in my brain.

If I could just delete the other man from the picture, this feels normal. Mowing on a Sunday, picking up sticks and tossing them into a pile as I go, wondering if I could manage a couple of raised beds to grow herbs and shit in. And then I remember that the reason I think we'd even use homegrown herbs is because Todd would use them, and it starts feeling weird again.

It should feel weird, though. To paraphrase the liturgy of my childhood, it is right and good that I not get used to being a third wheel in my marriage. It has been better lately, mostly because Chrisette's new meds really crush her sex drive. Even Todd isn't getting any, as far as I know. We'll see what happens when her system gets used to them.

Smelling of grass and my own armpits, I finish mowing and head to the shower. I don't acknowledge Todd when I pass behind him; he got the same order to stay away from the reunion. He's playing video games on the couch and wearing his headphones, so he probably doesn't even notice me come inside.

Maybe that's why I leave the bathroom door wide open. Five days in the gym per week have been pretty good to me, even if I'm not trying to bulk up. It's not as hard to look at myself in the mirror, is what I mean. It's bad for the pipes if I wash everything down the drain, so I'm picking grass out of my beard when I see movement in my peripheral vision.

Todd is leaning against the doorframe, watching me. His eyes have the intensity of a hawk watching a mouse. It's only then that I realize he's been looking at me like that a lot lately.

"What?" I ask, and even my voice sounds like I want something from him.

He stalks towards me, undoing his belt. My head is hot. I could do this; why not? Chrisette doesn't want me and I'm tired of masturbating. My body remembers how Todd feels. I'm half hard already. We could fuck if I wanted it. Nobody else would know.

He's right in front of me now. Todd tugs his shirt over his head and throws it in the corner. He's looking at me like he's going like I'm dinner and he hasn't eaten in days. My heart pounds heavily, thudding and pounding in my head, my gut, my cock. Todd dips two fingers into the waistband of my shorts and yanks me forward.

I say the only thing that comes to mind.

"What does 'no' mean, Todd?" I ask.

He stops and cocks his head. "You were giving--"

Blood is rushing to and away from my head so fast I have to steady myself against the sink. I try to sound chill. "What does it mean to you?"

Todd's adam's apple bobs. "No means no."

Hoping he can't tell that I'm breathing a little harder than normal, I say clearly, "Pay close attention to my lips. No."

Todd's mouth opens and closes like a dying fish. Then he buckles his belt and walks silently out of the bathroom. When I jack off in the shower, it's to the feeling of victory.