Esme
I wake from a restless sleep that leaves me with the vague feeling that I’ve been dreaming, even though I can’t remember what about.
I’m settled in one corner of my small bed. Artem is taking up the rest of it. I don’t mind, though, especially because Phoenix looks so comfortable nestled against his Papa’s broad chest.
He sleeps with his butt sticking up in the air and I smile to see Artem’s hand cupping it gently, holding him securely in place.
They look so damn perfect.
I can’t help but stare.
I won’t lie: Artem’s appearance had taken me completely by surprise. I hadn’t been prepared for it in the slightest, and it had brought up a whole host of emotions.
Emotions that I’d been avoiding for so long.
Emotions I never thought I’d feel again.
I slip out of the bed and head to the kitchen. I make myself a cup of plain tea, a taste I had developed after Phoenix’s birth, and sip it slowly.
It’s nice to turn my brain off. Even if it’s only for five minutes, the silence does me some good. Helps me reset, recharge, recalibrate.
After I’ve finished my cup of tea, I put it in the sink and take a deep breath. The peace I found while drinking it vanishes as quickly as it had come.
And my nerves are as unsettled as ever.
My fingers twitch. I know then what I need, though it’s been so long that I wonder if I’ve lost the touch. I don’t know where I’d get that solution anyway, so I just put it out of mind.
Maybe a walk might help clear my head instead.
As I grab my coat, it strikes me that I have never been a part from Phoenix for even a single moment since his birth.
I’ve never had the option of taking some time for myself because there was no one I trusted enough to leave Phoenix with.
I peer through to the room and see that Artem and Phoenix are still fast asleep. Phoenix’s last feeding was an hour ago and he had nursed well, which means he shouldn’t get hungry for another two hours at least.
I shrug my coat on and slip out of the apartment. I feel a fierce sense of independence as I walk down the stairs.
It’s alarming how amazing it feels to be out on my own, no baby strapped to my chest or my boob.
For the first time in months, I feel like a real human being. And every time a tiny pang of guilt arises, I just close my eyes and picture my son nestled against his father.
Right where they both belong.
I walk down the lonely street that leads to the apartment and take a sharp right towards the main drag of town.
People are just filing out of their homes on their way to work. I find myself smiling at strangers. It’s ridiculous how happy I am right now.
Because Artem’s back.
Because I feel like myself again.
Because it seems like maybe—just maybe—the world isn’t as cruel as I was starting to believe it was.
I haven’t really made a conscious decision about where to go, but when I turn the corner and see the music store down the road, I feel the tug of fate.
Like I had a destination in mind all along. Or that the universe had a destination in mind for me.
I’m not sure which of those options I like better.