Nobody spoke.

Then Frank said:

"And you become the man who remembers whether you were there."

The "All-Inclusive Parent Resort"

I had prepared something for Trevor.

While he was away, my mother and I had made a handwritten sign.

I held it up.

It read:

WELCOME TO TREVOR'S ALL-INCLUSIVE PARENT RESORT

Amenities include:

• Sunrise Bottle Service

• Diaper Duty

• Laundry Experience

• Midnight Entertainment

• Crying Baby Concierge

• Kitchen Cleanup

• Sleep Deprivation Package

Late checkout unavailable.

My mother started laughing.

Even Frank smiled.

Trevor stared at the sign.

Then, unexpectedly, he laughed too.

It was the first good sign.

"Seriously?"

"Completely."

He sighed.

"Okay."

I looked at him.

"Okay what?"

"I'll do it."

Frank nodded.

"Good."

Trevor looked at him.

"Are you staying?"

Frank picked up his duffel bag.

"I don't know."

Trevor's expression changed.

"Why?"

Frank shrugged.

"Because you don't want me here."

Trevor didn't answer.

Then, quietly, he said:

"I didn't say that."

Frank looked at him.

It was the first crack in twelve years.

The Seven Days That Changed Him

Trevor didn't go back to work immediately.

He stayed home.

At first, he complained.

He complained about sleep.

He complained about laundry.

He complained that babies couldn't communicate.

He complained that nobody had warned him how much crying there would be.

My mother responded:

"Everyone warned you."

Frank responded:

"You're just hearing it now."

And I responded:

"Welcome to parenthood."

The first night, Trevor slept for two hours.

Then one baby woke.

Then the other.

By 3:30 a.m., Trevor was walking around the house carrying one baby while trying to prepare a bottle for the other.

He looked destroyed.