I put the glass in the dishwasher and walked back to the bedroom. The anger was starting to wear off, but I didn’t really want to let it go. I almost wanted to stomp around and keep myself angry, just to work through how I felt about it. But I couldn’t. I could be frustrated, even upset, but anger was just lost. I was beyond anger. I was done.
Becca came out in pajamas, and though it was still pretty early, I opened the sheets to the bed and tucked her in. Throwing on pajamas of my own, I curled up beside her and turned the television in the bedroom on. I put on episodes of one of our mutually favorite sitcoms from years before that was streaming and turned the volume really low. As my eyes drifted shut to the sounds of her cute, light snore, I felt the anger disappear but the resolution to do something for her strengthen. By the time I woke up the next morning, I knew what I needed to do.
When we got up, Becca went to go make breakfast while I took a shower. When I got out, instead of going to the kitchen, I went back to the bedroom. The idea had formed in my head before I fell asleep the night before, but there were still details to be worked out. Namely calling my brothers and explaining as much of the situation as I could to them without blasting them with the entirety of it. I wanted to have that discussion with the entire family rather than just whoever picked up at the bar.
Grabbing the suitcases from under the bed, where they had come to live rather than my closet, I put them on the bed and opened them up. For a moment I blanked on what should go in there. A lot depended on where exactly we were going and for how long. When I finally decided that a long trip was out of the question, I began filling my suitcase with a smattering of T-shirts, socks, underwear, and pajama pants. When Becca came in and saw what I was doing, she stopped in the doorway and curved her eyebrow up comically.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“I think we should get out town for a few days,” I said. “I’m packing our stuff.”
Becca leaned against the doorframe, sipping what I assumed was tea. “Well, that sounds like a wonderful idea, but it won’t solve anything.”
“It might,” I said, tossing a pair of jeans into the suitcase and heading for the bathroom. “Maybe not permanently but getting out of town for just a little bit will help us separate from all this and focus on what’s important.”
I went into the bathroom, expecting her to follow me and continue the conversation, but she suddenly went quiet. Assuming she was packing her own bag, I gathered our bathroom stuff, sticking our toothbrushes in a zip bag and putting the deodorants and toothpaste and razor in a little bag of its own. I usually had a little bug-out bag for occasions where I felt like I needed to get out of town for some reason, but this was different. I wasn’t just packing the essentials that I could use if I ended up anywhere from a five-star hotel to a tent; I was packing enough that Becca could not only survive the time away, but even relax and enjoy it.
I was gathering my things and carrying them out when I saw Becca sitting on the bed. The cup was on the nightstand beside her, but she was curled up against the headboard, her knees in her arms and her head down. She looked like she was crying. I went to her, touching her back, and she looked up, her eyes red and the corners wet.
“I am so sorry about my father and Nick,” she said. “What they did was unforgivable. I can’t believe they would act that way. If you didn’t want to be around me and my drama, I would understand.”
Her words hit me like a rock in the bottom of my stomach. I sat down in front of her, putting my hands on her shoulders and nudging her to look at me.
“You have to stop saying stuff like that,” I said. “Stop even thinking that way. I am in this.” I pointed to her belly. “Our little family. Ours. I’m not going anywhere. Despite the sore jaw.”
I laughed, but Becca didn’t.
“It was a joke,” I said, but Becca broke into tears, sobbing openly, and I pulled her into my arms. She cried softly there into my shoulder while I rubbed her back. “It’s okay,” I kept repeating, “it’s fine.”
“It’s not fine,” she said into my shirt as the tears made my shoulder damp. “There’s just been so much shit from them already, and we just barely told them about the baby. What are they going to be like in a few months? How bad will they get?” Becca raised her head, and her teary, almond-shaped eyes stared into mine. “I’m just so sorry.”