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not doing
this.”
    “ You’re not going to talk
to me?”
    “ No. I’m eating. I just
want to eat.”
    “ Okay,” Desmond said. “Then
I’ll talk. I think we need to see a doctor. I’ve been doing a lot
of research this past week and based on your symptoms, you’re
experiencing postpartum depression. I know this is overwhelming. I
mean, we’re a new couple and we hardly had time to get to know each
other before you were pregnant, so that, along with the
responsibilities of not one baby, but two is stressful…for the both of
us.”
    Sherita narrowed her eyes at him. “How
is it stressful for you?”
    “ Because I’m learning just
like you are. I don’t know everything about being a father. I’ve
learned some things along the way, but what I do know is, you’re
stressed out and I don’t like it.”
    “ I’m fine.”
    “ You’re not fine. You’re
not fine, Sherita,” he repeated. “This is not you. This is not the
Sherita I married. You don’t attempt to do your hair. You don’t
wear makeup – not that you need it – but still, it’s about getting
up and presenting yourself to the world. You don’t try
anymore.”
    “ Oh. Well, I’m sorry if my
looks aren’t up to your standards anymore, Desmond.”
    “ Don’t twist my words. What
I said was—”
    “ I heard you loud and
clear,” she interrupted. “I’m not the same. I dress like a slob and
I look a hot mess. I guess I better step my game up if I want to
keep a man like you, huh?”
    Frustrated, Desmond shook his
head.
    “ Is that why we don’t go
out anymore?” she asked. “You’re ashamed of me? Is that it? Scared
we’re going to run into some of your colleagues and I’ll embarrass
you?”
    “ You’re being
ridiculous.”
    “ No, I’m being real,
Desmond. I’m saying all the things you won’t say.”
    Desmond grimaced. He looked over at
the kids to make sure they were okay before he took Sherita by the
hand and stepped just outside of the door. He refused to argue in
front of the children. “Listen to me. I am in no way ashamed of
you. Do you want to know why we don’t go out anymore, Sherita? It’s
because you don’t want to. You don’t want to do anything but work,
come home, feed the babies and crash. How many times have I tried
to arrange something for us, just you and me, and you completely go
ballistic about how much work you have to do around here? Just last
weekend, I canceled reservations at Connelley’s because you didn’t
want to go.”
    No, she didn’t want to go. What she
didn’t tell him was, the night before they were supposed to go to
Connelley’s, she had tried on several dresses and couldn’t fit any
of them. Those flat abs she used to have were history, replaced by
belly fat and stretch marks. She had read articles that suggested
women who had C-section incisions wouldn’t lose the belly fat near
the scar which for her meant, no more two-piece bathing suits,
fitted dresses and sexy blouses.
    Then there was her hair. No one told
her that, with pregnancy, her hair would shed more than normal,
especially in the temple area. How was she supposed to dress up and
feel pretty, sexy and confident in a dress that hugged her gut
while rocking thin, stringy, lifeless hair?
    And what about the kids? She was very
protective of them as any mother should be of their children. But
it had taken thirty-six interviews for her to settle on a part-time
nanny to take care of the babies four hours a day for four days a
week. Her mother watched them for the remaining four hours. Even
then, Sherita still called multiple times throughout the day to
guarantee their safety. How could she leave them behind while she
ate dinner?
    “ Sherita?”
    She looked up at Desmond, held his
gaze while tears pooled in her eyes. “What?” she asked,
broken-spirited.
    He reached up to touch her face, but
she ducked her head out of the way. She didn’t want his hands
touching her face. She could see the weight gain there, too,