Then, before I can protest, she turns on her heel and heads toward the staircase. Just like that, she’s gone.
I stare down at the baby. He’s looking at me with a slight frown, as though he’s trying to place me. I see a flash of Yuri for a moment. It’s gone as quick as it came but the nauseating feeling it brought with it, like getting punched in the gut, lingers.
His weight fits snugly in my arm. It all feels so natural. So familiar. Even his smell pulls me back years into the past.
I swallow past the bitter knot in my throat and stride towards the kitchen.
When I step through the threshold, though, Anna’s not there like I expect her to be. Then I remember that I don’t need any help. I’ve done this before.
I’ve changed diapers, made bottles. I may have lost my son but I never stopped
