“What the hell are you doing sleeping with our daughter?!”
But something in his face stopped me.
He looked exhausted.
Empty.
Like someone carrying something entirely too heavy.
“No,” I barely managed to say.
He nodded.
And he went back to our room.
I didn’t sleep.
At six, I heard Emily waking up.
I ran to see her.
She was sitting up in bed, hugging a stuffed animal.
“Did you sleep better?”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
“Did your bed feel tiny?”
She hesitated.
Then she said something that broke me.
“The sad man came last night.”
I felt cold.
“What man?”
Emily looked at her pillow.
“The one who cries.”
I stopped breathing.
“What does he look like?”
“Big. He lies down really softly. He smells like Daddy does when he comes home from the hospital.”
The world stopped spinning.
“Does he scare you?”
She shook her head.
“No. He’s just sad.”
I sat down next to her.
“Has he talked to you?”
Emily thought for a moment.
“Once.”
