“You’re right. I don’t.”
Then he adjusted the sleeping baby.
“But I know the story you’re telling yourself. You believe it was only five days. You think you can make it up later because the babies won’t remember.”
Trevor looked away.
“The babies won’t,” Frank said. “Your wife will.”
I pointed upstairs.
“There’s a suitcase waiting for you.”
Trevor returned carrying a bag packed with diapers, formula, bottle brushes, baby clothes, medicine schedules, and burp cloths.
A luggage tag rested on top.
**DAD ON DUTY**
“What is this?” he asked.
“The correct destination.”
For the following week, Trevor finally experienced the vacation he had postponed.
Breakfast began at two in the morning.
Laundry never closed.
Room service meant preparing bottles.
Entertainment consisted of two newborns crying in shifts.
After another sleepless night, Trevor stumbled into the kitchen with his shirt inside out.
Frank checked the chalkboard.
“Sunrise Bottle Service begins in five minutes.”
“I’m starting to hate this resort,” Trevor muttered.
My mother poured coffee.
“Management appreciates your feedback.”
Even I laughed.
PART 3
By the fourth day, Trevor stopped complaining.
By the sixth, he no longer waited for instructions.
If a bottle needed washing, he cleaned it. If one baby cried, he moved before I could stand. When I reached for something, he quietly said:
“I’ve got it.”
One night, I woke and heard voices in the nursery.
Trevor had fallen asleep in the rocking chair with one daughter resting against his chest. The other slept nearby.
Frank stood in the doorway.
He gently placed a blanket over his son’s shoulders and whispered:
“You’re already better than I was.”
Trevor did not hear him.
I did.
The next day, Trevor finally asked why Frank had come.
“When your mother needed me, I chose myself,” Frank answered. “I’ve spent thirty-two years wishing I could change that decision.”
He looked toward the nursery.
“When Katie called, I realized I could not repair my family. But perhaps I could help save yours.”
