Page 2 of The Archer and his Rosebud

“I think you might have a hungry baby.” He scratches his stubbled cheek, his eyes remaining fastened over my shoulder.

Huh?Chin dropping, I’m clued in on what he sees: Two wet circles on either side of my fading and stretched-out dingy white tank top, the quality of my thin cotton bralette evident.

Crossing my arms, the flood gates explode. Of course I forgot to put new nursing pads in. Because this is my new life. I’m beyond sleep-deprived. Telling this stranger what day of the week it is would be impossible.

“There’s no shut off valve on damn boobs. She just ate, and they don’t seem to care. And she won’t sleep. I’m dying a slow death with every hour of sleep I lose.” As if summoned by the milk trickling from my boobs, Clem’s cries flow from inside my apartment. Has she been crying this whole time? My stare flits from my apartment to the sky. “Why does she cry all the time? What is wrong with me? Why can’t I figure this out? Why does she hate me?”

“Dad?” A young boy with a Kool-Aid mustache pops up between my neighbor and the door jam. His little nose scrunches as he stares at me with concern on his innocent face.

I wipe at my eyes, offering a watery and likely psychotic smile.

“I’m sorry.” My neighbor ruffles the child’s dark, unkempt hair. “It’s hard to wrangle two boys in an apartment. They love jumping and wrestling on my bed, but I promise I’ll have them quiet down.”

Kids playing. I yelled at this poor man for doing nothing more than allow his sons to horse around on his mattress.

“I’m…”Sorry? Embarrassed? Losing my mind?Clem’s cries draw my attention. “I need to go.” I’m returning to my open door and waving my hand before I lamely finish, “I apologize for intruding.”

I’m positive he calls after me as my door clicks shut, but I’m too mortified to do more than twist the deadbolt and collapse against my front door.

“Way to make a good first impression on your new neighbor.” My gaze drops along with my tears to my aching chest. Poor guy netted quite the cheap thrill today. I always figured if I was going to do a wet t-shirt thing, I’d be on spring break in a state with palm trees.

I push off the door and shuffle toward my bedroom and Clem, whose lungs show no fatigue. I debate between laughing and crying. Which means do I both. The laughter in my chest bursts from my lips in the form of a strangled sob. I’m in over my head. Leaning over, I peer down at the little splotchy face with the oversized voice.

“We’re a mess, girl.” I join Clem in crying, tightening her blanket burrito before lifting her against my chest and sinking to the edge of my bed. “I’m sorry I’m horrible at this.”

Clem hushes at the circles I rub on her back, and my laughter returns. I knocked on a complete stranger’s door braless and three days past due for a shower and accused him of having wild monkey sex.What were you thinking, Willa?What if he’d been with someone? Did I expect them to quit mid-act and answer my knock?

Mom and Dev are gone all of five days and already I’m doubting every decision I’ve made. Can I cancel this lease and return to Michigan? With Mom’s help and having Dev to lean on, I can figure out this single mom thing. I’m dead tired and grimy, and my apartment smells like dirty diapers because mustering the energy to walk the trash to the dumpster is unthinkable. And, oh, that poor man.

Lord, I made a complete fool of myself, which is why I’m surprised when he shows up at my door the following week.

ChapterTwo

ARCHER

“Uh, hi?”My new neighbor greets me with red-rimmed eyes and a crying newborn balanced in one arm, and I consider the possibility that I’m as crazy as she was last Tuesday. Except, there’s no blaming sleep deprivation and a newborn for my lack of judgment.

I moved into The Retreat at the beginning of June and hadn’t met a soul on the third floor until the woman before me came busting down my door, accusing me of having loud sex. Damn, I wish that was the case. The dry spell is real. I caught the commotion of someone moving into this unit around the first of the month but was elbows deep in a programming issue for a client’s website. By the time I found a moment to breathe and introduce myself, the apartment was quiet and the hallway vacant. I took the boys home to Beaumont for the Fourth the following day. Monday, July eighteenth, seems as good a day as any to be standing at her front door with no advance notice.

I hate disturbing her, but other than her daughter’s cries, I haven’t seen or heard anyone coming or going in a week. Sounds creepy, sure, but it’s easy to notice these things on our quiet floor since I work from home. And these walls aren’t exactly soundproof.

I find my words. “Hey. Please tell me I didn’t wake her.” I lean in for a glimpse at the owner of super-powered lungs. “Or you,” I add, averting my focus from her disheveled appearance.

Tugging at her oversized Red Wings tee, a familiar spit-up stain on her shoulder, her body bounces in that instinctive way one does when holding an infant. “What is sleep?” A faint chuckle leaves her cracked lips.

Man, she’s young. What did she say last week?You don’t get knocked up at nineteen not liking sex?She has no idea how accurate that sentiment is. My gaze locks on the bundle in her arm, whose crying tapers off, allowing her teary eyes to semi-focus my way. Her button nose puts a smile on my face.

“Sleep-deprived. Yeah, I remember those days.” Or, I sympathize with her since I wasn’t in Texas during that time as often as I’d have liked. Leah dealt with the brunt of the newborn moments. “That’s why I’m here, actually.” I rattle the take-out bag in my hand.

“Food?”

“Yeah. I know people tend to deliver casseroles to new parents, but I’ve been working all day, so I ordered dinner and figured you could use some.”

Her fingers twist the hem of her shirt as she stands speechless.

Lowering the bag to my side, I draw a slow inhale and press on. “Look, I know I’m a stranger to you, but can I do something to help?”

She blinks. I blink.

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