I cried there on the paper-covered table.
Carl smiled too, but his smile arrived late and left early.
After Abby and Talia were born, Carl changed in small, sharp ways.
“More wipes?”
“How many diapers can two babies go through?”
The answer was always more than he wanted.
That Saturday, we went grocery shopping together. I pushed the cart with both car seats inside while Carl walked beside me, staring at his phone.
“Can you grab the formula?” I asked.
He looked up. “Which one?”
“The one they’ve used since birth.”
He stared at the shelf like the cans were written in code.
I reached around him and grabbed two.
“Honestly, Carl.”
At checkout, Talia started fussing. Abby dropped her pacifier. I bent to pick it up, and my lower back cracked like a glow stick.
The cashier, a young woman named Tasha, smiled kindly. “Twins? My sister has twins.”
“Please tell me it gets easier,” I said.
She scanned the diapers. “It gets different, that’s for sure.”
Carl finally looked up when the total appeared.
“That’ll be $121.77,” Tasha said.
Carl’s face hardened. “What? Why is it this expensive?”
I shifted Talia’s carrier with my foot. “Because we bought food, wipes, formula, and diapers.”
He dug through the bags.
“Take this off,” he said, lifting the pack of diapers.
Tasha paused. “The diapers? Are you sure?”
My face went hot. “Carl, they need those.”
