Through Me (The Flood)

I swear I'm not writing for these two again.

"C'mon little man, we've got this." Orion is wailing. He's going through something, a growth spurt, you said, and is miserable.

And you haven't slept more than a few hours over the last two days.

When Simon sent you to bed an hour ago, it was only after you had fallen asleep on the couch, Orion in your arms, his mouth pressed to your t-shirt like he was hungry again, even though he had just eaten.

Now, Simon is pacing around with his squirming, shrieking son who wants nothing to do with a bottle or Simon himself.

"Orion, you've gotta let mama sleep a little bit, alright? Here," he rubs the nipple gently against his cheek, trying to trigger the reflex like he's seen you do a million times, but it doesn't work.

The bedroom door creaks, and Simon sighs.

"I can take him." Your eyes half closed, you hold your arms out. Simon shakes his head.

"No."

"Si-"

"No honey. You're not doin' him or you any good like this." Your lower lip trembles.

"I can't sleep if he's screaming." A tear falls, and he wipes it away. He's knows you're hard wired to respond to his crying, knows how difficult it is for you to hear it, let it go on. You'll neglect yourself for Orion over and over again. You were barely holding on, barely surviving before you found Simon on the street.

And now that he's here, it's over.

He puts Orion down in the living room crib and places his hands on your shoulders, turns you right around to direct you back into the bedroom to bed. "Sit here," he orders, invoking just a shade of his lieutenant voice, "don't move." You sniffle but nod.

He unplugs the sound machine from Orion's room and brings it back, sets it up on your side of the bed on the little table, the one near your pillow.

"What're you doing?" You're rubbing your eyes as he pulls the covers back and maneuvers you beneath them, your body limp and pliant the whole way.

"We're gonna turn this on, and you're gonna get some sleep." He leans you back against the pillow, rubbing your back as you roll on your side, and he slides his own pillow under your arm and cheek, essentially replacing himself in the bed.

"Simon," you whine but it's half-hearted. You can barely keep your eyes open. With the sound machine on and turned up, Orion's crying is barely distinguishable.

"He'll be fine. I don't want you gettin' out of this bed for another five hours at least."

"He'll be hungry-"

"He'll drink this bottle, and I'll bring him in later for you, but that's it." Simon will figure it out, one way or another. You won't be able to go five hours without feeding Orion or pumping, but he can handle it so you won't have to lift a finger, and hopefully be able to go right back to sleep. "I'll make it work, I promise. I've got him." His lips brush against your forehead, and you sigh, rolling over to look up at him, tears on your lashes.

"What if he needs me?"

"He always needs you mama, but we've gotta take care of you too." He strokes your cheek, a whole mess of words and feelings fighting up his throat. "I'm here now. I'm here, and I'm gonna make sure you're both taken care of, which means makin' sure you're gettin' enough sleep." You reach and loop your arms around his neck, pressing your wet face into his shoulder. "It's alright," he kisses your temple, your ear. "It's okay."

"I miss him." He holds back his chuckle.

"We'll be right out there, in the living room, and he'll be there when you wake up." He carefully, but firmly, arranges you back on your side. "You can rest honey, he's not goin' anywhere."

"You too?" He swallows, slows the thundering of his heart.

"Me too mama. I'll be right here."