‘She just doesn’t power off, does she?’ Sam had marvelled at about 1 a.m. the night before, as they paced between rooms handing the squalling baby back and forth. He was coming over at least five nights a week, sharing the night shift and then going home at stupid-o-clock to get ready for work. Ali didn’t know how he was managing. And he wasn’t flying into irrational strops and calling Millie a cunt. Then again, he wasn’t being battered by hormonal storms on the daily. He was being himself, though keeping his distance, and Ali tried not to think too much about what was going to happen with them. Every now and then, it felt like old times between them. If they were laughing at something Millie did or if Ali caught him looking at her in a certain way, a tentative thrill of hope would swell inside her but then he’d return to his polite standoffishness and Ali’d slump, resigned to the fact that maybe some things just couldn’t be salvaged. And maybe I’m only in love with him right now because he’s a source of reliable childcare, she mused. If Pol Pot was willing to share the nights, I’d probably start fancying him too.
Crying had started up in the kitchen and Ali’s boobs ached in response.
She put her still-wet hair in a towel and made her way back to the fray, glancing darkly at the room beside hers that they’d lovingly prepared for Millie before she arrived and disabused them of all their rosy notions about what exactly a newborn would tolerate when it came to sleeping arrangements.
Now, it was the room where Sam occasionally slept over though this was rare. Ali suspected it was at his therapist’s advice – terrible when the boy you like starts ‘working on themselves’. Ali sighed, entering the kitchen and rescuing Liv from the wailing Millie.
Dinner cheered Ali up no end. She fed Millie while practically inhaling her green curry.
‘It’s mad how nihilistic you can get when you haven’t eaten in a few hours,’ she remarked.
‘Oh yeah,’ Erasmus responded vaguely and Mini, Liv and Amy looked over expectantly, but it appeared he was done talking. Stepping from the role of Mini’s full-time assistant to part-time lover had done nothing for his confidence and he still seemed terrified of Mini and everything else in life. Liv was convinced they were a dom and a sub and loved speculating on who was which.
The sound of the front door and Sam bashing into every item between it and the kitchen distracted them all from Erasmus’s awkward silence.
‘Hey.’ He waved and stooped to kiss Millie’s head, then reversed rapidly, clearly remembering what she was currently suctioned to. He straightened up and gave Ali his patented cringey thumbs up. ‘I’m just gonna do the bins.’
Ali returned his thumbs up and shook her head as he turned and threw himself into the changing of the bins.
‘Do you want some dinner?’ Ali asked, hyper-aware that the others were all holding their breath and watching the exchange with intense interest.
‘Yep, whatever’s going.’ He bustled back out, heaving a black sack with him.
‘Can you all please be normal?’ Ali hissed, when the front banged behind him. ‘I get it you’re all rooting for us and that’s nice but, look, he’s made it clear, he wants boundaries. I’m respecting that. We’re co-operating.’
‘Ali’s right.’ Amy took charge. ‘We’re never gonna make this work without a proper strategy …’
‘Amy!’ Ali laughed in spite of her irritation and exhaustion. ‘Please stop engineering everything.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Amy held up her hands and forked some noodles into her mouth. ‘Old habits,’ she mumbled.
‘So’ – Mini turned to her – ‘what is your plan now with the Instagram revelations, Amy?’ Mini was interested in Amy – Mini had apparently told Erasmus if he wanted them to have a relationship, he would need to move on as her assistant. And he had gamely resigned and was on the hunt for another job.
‘Well. I’m keeping an eye out for new opportunities and Liv and I are hoping to take a bit of a trip soon. I’m pretty much all wrapped up with Shelly – she’s pivoting to serious actress mode, which is great. She had a meeting with an agent that went really well. She also spoke up for Polly this afternoon at the sentencing and it seems to have worked. Well, kind of. Shelly said the judge was annoyed about her trying to advocate for the defendant – appara it is not the done thing at all. But he did listen, and Polly got a four-year suspended sentence provided she complies with all the treatment they’ve ordered her to undergo.’
‘Amazing.’ Sam had caught the last bit as he came back in, grabbed a plate and began piling it with rice and curry. ‘You’d think after everything she’s put Shelly through, Shelly would want her punished.’ He sat down beside Erasmus even though, Ali noted, it was much more of a squeeze by the wall and there was plenty of room beside her and Millie’s boob buffet.
She looked down at her food sadly – bloody hormones – her recent pep suddenly drowned out once more by the reality of their situation. It wasn’t all happy Modern Family. Liv and Ali would go off and leave her with the baby. Erasmus and Mini had their sub-dom play. Sam would get a girlfriend. And she’d be stuck here being tortured by this tiny human she made herself.
‘Polly was sick. She was a victim of her disease,’ Ali said, and she watched with horror as tears dropped to her plate. Oh God, not more crying. It’s just been a hard day. Ali, keep it together.
On cue, Millie spluttered at her nipple and, when Ali sat her up – probably too quickly – she barfed all over Ali’s chest.
‘Oh, vom away, Millie,’ Ali quipped. ‘I only spend every waking hour producing it for you!’
Ali stood and waved off help from the others. She didn’t want them to see her upset again.
‘It’s all cool.’ She painted on a smile and hurried down to the bathroom to clean them both up. Afterwards she paced her room, jigging Millie to try to soothe her indignant shrieks but it was futile – she was into her nightly scream-a-thon now. From 8 p.m. to the early hours, it was like a wall of screaming with little to no let-up. Each day, Ali was convinced it couldn’t be as bad as the night before and each evening Millie seemed determined to prove it could.
Ali’d spent many a night pacing and swaying and googling:
‘Two-week-old won’t stop crying …’
‘Three-week-old won’t stop crying …’
‘Four-week-old won’t stop crying …’
What was most unnerving to Ali – apart from the fact that the internet was apparently useless when it came to knowing how to stop a newborn crying – was the search bar offering its own suggestions like:
‘Four-month-old won’t stop crying …’
And
‘Fourteen-month-old won’t stop crying …’
Christ, will there be no end? Ali felt like howling along with her baby.
Evening bled into night and nothing seemed to console Millie. Mini and Erasmus had left soon after dinner and, although Liv had valiantly hovered at Ali’s elbow making suggestions on how best to soothe Millie, Ali’s obvious irritation eventually drove her away and she and Amy had retreated to bed.