Adios

Adios.

Monday morning, and I was back at it again.

"We'll leave him in your care today, then. Thank you, teacher."

I unfastened the baby carrier and settled Luca ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠into her arms.

"Of course. All right, Luca, let's wave bye-bye to Daddy! Bye-bye!"

"······."

Maybe he still wasn't fully awake. Luca, who usually rattled off a storm of baby babble, was oddly quiet today.

"Luca, Daddy'll come see you at lunchtime, okay?"

"······."

Yep. Still half-asleep. I pressed a soft kiss to the warm, doughy back of his little hand, then turned and pushed through the glass door.

I had only made it a few steps when Luca's piercing wail came after me.

"Waaaaaaaaah!"

"Ah—!"

I spun around and hurried back, yanking open the daycare door.

"Oh, Luca…!"

The teacher was trying to soothe him as he cried with a face full of pure betrayal.

"Waaah, waaah…! Hic. Hnnngh…."

In those few short seconds he had already become a tear-streaked mess, both tiny hands reaching desperately toward me.

"What on earth got into him all of a sudden?"

I took him back into my arms, completely baffled. The baby clutched my collar and kept hiccupping.

"Oh dear, it looks like Luca's finally hit stranger anxiety. Stranger anxiety and separation anxiety, all at once, by the look of it."

"…Just like that? Does it really come on this suddenly?"

The teacher nodded with a sympathetic smile, and I felt a genuine sense of betrayal.

"But Luca always loved people…? He'd go right into the arms of complete strangers and smile at them…."

"I understand how jarring it must feel."

Thankfully, she said Luca didn't seem to have any anxiety about the place itself.

That was a thing too?

"Wait—some kids get anxious about places?"

"Oh, plenty. And even kids who don't mind places much can still struggle somewhere unfamiliar, so keep that in mind. Especially tight spaces like elevators…."

She explained that stranger anxiety was a normal and necessary part of development—it meant the child had learned to tell familiar faces from unfamiliar ones.

"Still, it's a hard stretch for the parents. You have to leave a crying baby and go to work…."

"…So how long does this usually last?"

When I first brought Luca home I had read up on everything and remembered it all, but he had been such an easy baby that I had almost completely forgotten the details. I knew stranger anxiety and separation anxiety existed; I just couldn't remember how long they stuck around.

"Some kids grow out of it around one year old, and plenty keep going until three. Every child is different."

Oh, Lord.

I couldn't just leave Luca screaming himself into exhaustion, so as a stopgap I got him down for a nap first and then headed up. I was about half an hour late.

Thankfully Manager Rachel let it pass with a single nod, and the rest of the staff only offered a few murmured yeah, that happens without piling on.

Greg asked quietly, looking worried.

"So what now? Is he gonna cry like that every single time you drop him off?"

"I don't know."

I answered like a sigh and tried to throw myself into work that refused to hold my attention.

Then lunch. I didn't even think about eating—I went straight to the daycare.

I could hear a baby crying from the far end of the hallway, so I ran the last few steps.

"Luca…!"

"Hnnnngh, hwaaaeh…."

The moment the sorrowfully sobbing child saw my face, all the fight seemed to drain out of him; only the tears kept dripping.

"······."

My heart hurt so much I barely managed a proper thank-you to the teachers who must have been struggling since the second he woke up.

"It's all right. He hasn't been awake that long."

"Okay…."

But he wasn't napping as long these days either. Even if I stayed with him through the whole lunch break, he was going to cry all afternoon.

I soothed the hiccupping baby and offered him a bottle of baby food, then tried to settle him back to sleep once he'd eaten.

"Luca, our Luca, hush-a-bye…."

His eyes stayed wide open and bright. I glanced anxiously between the clock and Luca, then finally set him down in the crib.

"Eungh…!"

Luca ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stretched his arms out, demanding to be held again.

…I was losing my mind.

Three days passed like that.

I woke him a little earlier at home and tried to get him down for a nap at daycare; at lunch I played with him as hard as I could and tried again to put him back to sleep. Even so I kept running a little late in the mornings, and my returns after lunch kept stretching later, until I could feel my coworkers' eyes on me.

"…Dude, you've got the same dark circles you had when you first brought Luca home."

"…Do I."

"Hang in there. Seriously."

Greg said it quietly and pressed an energy drink into my hand. A small laugh slipped out of me.

"Thanks. What would I do without you."

Still, the fact that Manager Rachel—who would normally have been the one I fretted over most—never once pulled me aside to say anything made the scrutiny a little easier to bear. Whether it was personal goodwill or the fact that she was pregnant herself, I was grateful either way.

To make sure no one could claim my work was suffering because of the lateness, I focused harder than usual and finished everything cleanly and fast. Five minutes before quitting time I had every last task done and was just waiting; the second the clock hit the hour I stood, said my goodbyes, and left.

I got off the elevator on the first floor and walked quickly down the hall.

"······."

No crying. My steps, which had been tight with dread, slowed a little.

I quietly pushed open the glass door, and the teacher put a finger to her lips: shh.

I crept closer and found Luca asleep with a pacifier in his mouth, hugging a teddy bear.

…He looked exactly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠like a baby who had cried himself out—no, who had truly cried himself to sleep.

…What the hell was I supposed to do.

Useless thoughts about how it might be a little easier if there were two parents spun uselessly through my head.

I carefully lifted him, meaning to take him home still asleep, but Luca started fussing and mumbling without even opening his eyes. I gently stroked his cheek.

"Luca, baby… Want to wake up and go home?"

"Eungh…."

I shifted the pacifier-sucking, murmuring child more securely into my arms, buckled the carrier tight, thanked the teachers for their hard work, and stepped outside.

Hoping he would sink back into deep sleep, I patted his back and walked carefully, quietly.

But my efforts were undercut by the sharp voices of coworkers nearby.

"Seriously, is he raising that kid alone?"

"It's not even his own kid. He's just fostering for the subsidy money…."

The next morning, after putting Luca down for a nap at daycare and heading up to work, Rachel called me over.

She looked apologetic, but kept her voice low enough that no other employees would notice, and told me to stop by HR for a bit.

Tick. Tock.

The indifferent wall clock filled the small office again today.

And once again Mark, looking tired, glanced up at me from his desk.

"We seem to run into each other quite a lot. Last time wasn't about you, though."

"Seems that way. How have you been?"

Mark gave a slight smile, made a so-so gesture, and gestured for me to sit. I sat without comment.

He went straight to the point.

"We've received complaints from a few employees, Jun. That you're receiving preferential treatment."

"I see. That's unfortunate."

I answered evenly. Mark studied me for a moment, then asked,

"I know it's hard balancing childcare and work, Jun. Is there anything the company can do for you?"

For starters, you could stop calling me in here and go say something to the people filing those complaints.

Have you ever raised a kid yourself?

Just because a foster child isn't 'mine,' am I supposed to coldly ignore him when he cries?

"······."

But I knew better than anyone that snapping at Mark wouldn't get me anywhere. I had already made up my mind overnight.

So I put on a professional smile and asked, in a carefully apologetic tone,

"Yes—would it be possible to switch me to remote work for a while?"

"Mm, Jun, that would also be preferential treatment in its own way…."

Mark tapped his pencil against the desk in thought, so I made it easier for him.

"Put me on remote through the end of this month, and then I'll wrap up my work at the end of the month. Would that work?"

Just like Cassandra had done before me, I cleaned out my desk the moment I got back and left.

I had come in with the stroller for exactly this reason, so packing was easy. I stacked my sparse personal belongings into the box clipped to the stroller and zipped it shut.

"What? You're really just leaving like this?"

"Oh, Jun…."

People looked over with pitying eyes and voices. I offered a rueful smile to the few I had actually gotten along with and said goodbye.

"It's fine. Really, thank you for everything. Let's catch up sometime. I'll reach out."

With that I locked eyes quickly with Maria and Rachel and a few others I actually meant to keep in touch with, then dropped my gaze. I could always grab ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a meal later with the people who mattered. Right now I just wanted to leave clean and light.

Honestly—years at this job, and I didn't feel a shred of regret.

And then I heard Austin's voice—someone I had never once gotten close to, no matter how many years we had worked in the same place.

"Still, quitting this abruptly…."

…What, who's going to do all the work? You, who was trash-talking me yesterday—you can handle it!

I wanted nothing more than to throw that in his face, but I gave Austin the same regretful goodbye as everyone else.

"…I offered to stay a little longer for a proper handoff, but the company said they don't need me. Too many excellent employees already, I guess."

Not the walk home from work—the walk home from quitting.

"So that's how it went."

I filled Greg in on the morning's events; he had stepped out for a bit right when it all went down.

"I clearly said I'd work through the end of the month, but they told me if things were that rough they'd just accept the resignation as-is—so I quit on the spot."

The work my team and I did could be covered by one another anyway. The people left behind would suffer, sure, but from the company's perspective they would probably be thrilled about cutting payroll costs. Same as with Cassandra—it didn't feel great to be replaced so easily. In my case, though, I had no lingering attachment.

Hey. You know how hard I've been working, right? Hey?

I can quit this damn job and still have a way to eat!

No wonder life felt too easy lately. I was always the type who only feels right when I'm working nonstop.

"······."

Since yesterday I had been thinking maybe it was for the best. Separation anxiety wasn't going to vanish in a day or two, and Luca only had me. And I didn't want to be away from him for a second either. Plus any affection I had left for the people who badmouthed me without even noticing how hard I was trying not to burden anyone else had evaporated completely.

If I had been making mistakes or falling behind on work, I would have had nothing to say, but….

"…Huu."

I stopped walking for a moment and took a deep breath. What good was replaying it now. Let it go.

"Booo…?"

"No, it's nothing, Luca. Daddy was just having ugly thoughts."

"Eeeeh…."

…Though I did feel a little bad for Greg, who was about to get slammed with extra work.

"Greg. Tell Rachel to dump all my work on Austin. I quit after hearing that guy trash-talking me."

I heard Greg snort on the other end.

"Right. About time that place went under."