Being a single parent is more than what they make it out to be. I’ve tried my best to arrange sitters, hire nannies, and get someone to watch George while I work, but it is proving to be impossible. I can’t ask Sharon every time I need help.

Bringing the baby to work isn’t exactly my first choice of things to do, but neither was taking more pictures for Marsha. My whole situation is still hard for her to understand, but she’s done her best to make me feel okay about things. Lately, it feels like everyone is doing that for me. People are constantly offering their vocal support for me, but at the end of the day, I know that it’s up to me to hold down the fort.

Marsha seems to have all the answers. She has lived a lifetime and now she has the chance to give me some real advice.

“You don’t need a man,” she says. “A woman doesn’t need anyone but herself.”

“Thanks.” Her comments tend to make things worse. I grit my teeth and try to remain positive. “You’re probably right.”

“And look at little George. He’s adorable! And so strong too,” she says.

George smiles, unknowingly. “Marsha, he’s a baby. He can barely lift my fingers.”

“He can hear everything you say, you know. You’re emasculating him!” she cries out. George spits up a little on his shirt and starts to cry. “You see?”

I grab him and run to the bathroom. Everywhere I go, I have to carry a huge bag of things just in case. I’ve got diapers, binkies, stuffed toys, rings… the list goes on. I wipe up his face and clean his shirt. I bounce him lightly against my arm and chest. I kiss him and whisper, “It’s okay, baby.” He cheers up and reaches for Marsha.

“May I?” she asks.

Reluctantly, I hand him over to her. She holds him awkwardly, leaving me totally on edge. I guess I’ve been on edge for a while lately. There are just too many bad outcomes that could happen now.

“Did you know that I’ve never had a child?” she asks out of the blue. George reaches for me and makes an exasperated noise. “I just didn’t have the time. I was always too busy with my work.”

She hands me my wriggling baby back. I clutch him close to my breast.

“You told me that yesterday,” I say.

“Well, it’s true nonetheless,” she says.

I got two weeks off from work. Two weeks. Marsha has offered to pay me a little extra for sticking with her never-ending line of luxury homes, so it’s not all that bad. As for my body, I feel like I’m about to break down at any moment.

After I take a few pictures, Marsha can see the pain in my eyes. She hobbles over to her fridge. She pulls out her bottle of white wine. It’s her tradition after a day’s worth of work. She pours me a big glass, and frowns.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“For what?” I ask her. Marsha shuffles her feet, while standing in place.

“For disregarding everything and everyone,” she says. It begins to dawn on me that she might not have very many people left in her life. I could be the only person she has right now.

“I don’t know why I do it. I suppose I’m just a vain person. I’ve spent my whole life worrying about money and things that look nice. All material things are fleeting, my dear. If there’s any wisdom I can give you, it’s that. I hope you know that I honor your sacrifice. I know this isn’t easy for you. I know you probably have days where you want to just give up. But the world favors you and, as time passes, you’ll be in a better place than I am. Her voice trembles at the tail end of her speech. She catches herself before she spills tears.

“Marsha, it’s okay. You don’t need to apologize to me. I’m just going through a little something at the moment. You’re right, it’s hard. I don’t have his father in my life right now. And everyone is offering their loving support and trying their best to help me. To be honest, I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life anymore. I’m just completely lost,” I admit. “I just wish…”

“You wish he never left,” she says.

I nod, slowly, in defeat. “We never got the chance to know each other, but there was something real there. We could both feel it.”

“So find him,” she says, as if it is just that simple.

“I don’t even know how to begin to explain how angry I am. Sometimes, it feels like a dream. He left his team. No one knows where he went. Even his best friends can’t find him. It’s like I met a ghost that month.” I hold back another set of tears.

The wind rustles some leaves outside. It starts to rain and George starts crying. “I should probably get him to bed,” I say. “I promise I’ll be back tomorrow, Marsha. We’re getting close with this one. I think I understand your vision now.”

“Take another day off,” she says.

“You’re very sweet. But I can’t afford to do that right now,” I say. I don’t tell her how behind on rent I am right now. It’s been a little hard trying to afford bargain-buying for two people.

“Think of it as an off day with pay,” she says. “My treat.”

“But I can’t do—”

“You’re taking that day off,” she says. “I want you to go home and visualize what you want in this life. I want you to visualize his big, manly arms, the way he touches you, the way his coc—”

“Marsha! I’m over him,” I interrupt.

“Child, give it a rest. You’re not over him. Now I’ll see you on Thursday,” she says. George giggles and reaches for my breast. Typical man response.

I’m definitely over Lawrence. For me, it was just one of those things. I was feeling down about my dating situation back then. I went out and saw someone who was nice to me. I fell into his trap and he left. This is the most typical story ever told. I am definitely over him.

The problem is that he keeps popping in my damn mind. It’s not because I want him back here. I don’t even want to guilt him. It’s just that it is impossible to disconnect all ties from him. My son has his DNA and that’s a forever kind of thing. That’s the part that gets to me.

Even if I wanted to go out and meet someone else, I’m not anyone’s first choice anymore. I’ve gained at least fifteen pounds since my pregnancy. I’ve got a baby with me, pretty much at all times. I’ve got a job that is unstable and bills that are starting to pile up. I’m not the kind of woman that’s sold in magazines, and all the men I’ve met treat me like I’m just another “mom.”

I just want a day without a baby attached to my tit. I want a day where I can feel young again. I want to be able to stay up at night and go to bed at three AM if I want to. I want to be able to sleep until noon. I want to veg out and watch movies, without having to worry about my child falling from his crib. I want all the things that were stolen from me on that night.

Yet, even in the darkest hours, the moon can shine full. With its brightness, it can illuminate your whole heart. Holding my baby in my arms and seeing those precious eyes close is reason enough.

I don’t need Lawrence, but I need every bit of my son. I will never regret the night we made that mistake, no matter how much it can hurt me.