“It is only five days,” he said, his voice dropping into that familiar tone he used when he wanted to close a discussion. “You make it sound like I am leaving for an entire year.”
I wiped another dribble of orange puree from Bodhi’s chin with a damp washcloth, my fingers moving in a slow, practiced circle.
“It is five days of three feedings a day, plus the laundry,” I said. “That is fifteen bottles a day.”
He took a handful of crackers and walked out to the living room without another word, leaving the pantry door swung wide.
An hour later, the laundry basket was piled high with tiny white onesies, cotton receiving blankets, and terrycloth washcloths, weighing easily thirty pounds. I lifted it against my hip, my fingers catching on the cracked plastic handle as I negotiated the tight turn at the bottom of the stairs.
Ryan was standing near his open closet in the upstairs hallway, sorting through his lightweight linen shirts and khaki shorts. The navy blue suitcase he bought for his college reunions sat open on the bed behind him, already half-filled with neatly folded swim trunks, sandals, and a small leather shaving kit.
“Can you grab the other side of this?” I asked, stopping at the top of the stairs to catch my breath. “My left wrist is still sore from carrying Soleil all afternoon.”
I rubbed my left wrist where my watch used to be, a habit I could not seem to shake since the leather strap had broken three weeks ago.
Ryan did not turn around from the closet hanger. He adjusted the collar of a blue button-down shirt, checking the seam.
“I am right in the middle of packing, Shannon,” he said, his voice flat and defensive. “If I do not organize this now, it will all be wrinkled by the time we land.”
“It is just one basket,” I said.
He pulled a gray polo shirt from the hanger and laid it carefully inside the suitcase, smoothing the sleeves with the flat of his hand.
“You have to learn to manage your time better,” he said.
“I have been managing three infants alone since six this morning,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
He zipped the small mesh pocket inside the suitcase lid, the metal teeth clicking sharply in the quiet hallway.
