15-05-2021-052358It-Ends-with-Us

waving a hand toward the crib. He begins putting his tools back inside
the tool case. “Is there anything else you need while I’m here?”
I shake my head as I walk over to the crib and admire it. Since I
don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl, I decided to go with a nature theme.
The bedding set is tan and green with pictures of plants and trees all
over it. It matches the curtains and will eventually match a mural I
plan to paint on the wall at some point. I also plan to fill the nursery
with a few live plants from the shop. I can’t help but smile, finally
seeing it all start to come together. He even put up the mobile. I
reach up and turn it on and Brahms’s Lullaby begins to play. I stare at
it as it makes a full spin and then I glance back at Ryle. He’s standing
a few feet away, just watching me.
As I stare back at him, I think about how easy it is for humans to
make judgments when we’re standing on the outside of a situation. I
spent years judging my mother’s situation.
It’s easy when we’re on the outside to believe that we would walk
away without a second thought if a person mistreated us. It’s easy to
say we couldn’t continue to love someone who mistreats us when we
aren’t the ones feeling the love of that person.
When you experience it firsthand, it isn’t so easy to hate the person
who mistreats you when most of the time they’re your godsend.
Ryle’s eyes gain a little bit of hope, and I hate that he can see that
my walls are temporarily lowered. He begins to take a slow step toward
me. I know he’s about to pull me to him and hug me, so I take a quick
step away from him.
And just like that, the wall is back up between us.
Allowing him back inside this apartment was a huge step for me in
itself. He needs to realize that.
He hides whatever rejection he’s feeling with a stoic expression. He
tucks the toolbox under his arm and then grabs the box the crib came
in. It’s filled with all the trash from everything he opened and put
together. “I’ll take this to the Dumpster,” he says, walking toward the
door. “If you need help with anything else, just let me know, okay?”
I nod and somehow mutter, “Thank you.”
When I hear the front door close, I turn back and face the crib. My
eyes fill with tears, and not for myself this time. Not for the baby.