Page 18 of Heart of Gold

“One more, please.” Emily holds up her tumbler.

“Do you have bourbon?” I ask.

The server, a woman in her fifties, stares at me. “Of course. What kind?”

Shaking my head, I close my eyes. My brain needs to work, words need to form. “The strongest kind. One ice cube. Fill ’er up.”

“Are you ordering food as well, or just drinks tonight?”

“I don’t know what I need,” I say.

“We will. Just give us a moment,” Emily says, another high-pitched laugh accompanying it.

My mind clears, and consciousness leaves my body. Time has stopped.

I missed nine years. Her birth. Her learning to walk. Her saying “Dada” for the first time and meaning me.

My worst nightmare has come true. I abandoned a child without my knowledge.

My shock morphs into white-hot heat. Pressure boils in my temples; my fingers quiver. How dare she keep this from me. She knew how to get ahold of me. I sent her an email every day I was in Costa Rica. She had a million opportunities to tell me. To find me. To give me a chance.

She didn’t.

Our daughter suffered.

My daughter.

I can’t look at Emily. All I can do is stare at this fake flower centerpiece. What do I say that is measured, that is appropriate for the news I just received? I want to lash out. Show my rage. However, I’m not that guy. Suffering in silence is my go-to.

So, silence it is.

We are still sitting in a staring contest when the server swings back around with Emily’s second drink and my bourbon.

“Soooo,” Emily says, letting the O drag out.

“Give me a moment.” I take a gulp, the liquid searing the back of my throat. My trip home be damned. All my patients tomorrow need to be rescheduled. I need to stay to figure out how the fuck this happened.

I look up to really study this woman. A woman I thought I knew. We spent hours getting to know each other that week, but I guess that’s not enough time. Inside her was a person who decided one day she was done with me.

My gaze flicks to her and she smiles to break the tension but it’s palpable, like a rubber band pulled too tight. This will snap.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I run my hand down my face.

She shrugs one shoulder. “At the end of the day, I couldn’t do it.”

I stare at her. “Couldn’t do what?”

“Get rid of it. Of her.” She folds her hands and looks down.

“I didn’t expect you to.” I shake my head and take another swig of bourbon. It made my mouth twitch as it hit the back of my throat. “It’s your body. I wouldn’t have a say if you did.”

“Really?” she asks. Her eyelids shrink her eyes to slivers as she peers at me.

“Yeah,” I say. “What’s she like?”

Emily shakes her head, and her eyelashes flutter. “She’s perfect. Completely healthy. Happy.”

My throat constricts and I cough, emotion tugging the back of my eyes. I could fall apart, right here. Instead, I center myself. Displays of strong emotions are never an efficient way of getting things done.

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