Page 34 of Doctor Daddy Dilemma

“What are we gonna do, buddy?” I asked him, though he probably didn’t understand me at all. I kicked the door shut with one foot then walked over to the rocking chair in the corner of his room and sat down. This was the worst cold I’d had in years, and I had a mind to actually call my mom and organize a flight for her to come help me, but her crafting booths at the mall in El Paso were always so busy. She’d have to find someone to fill in at the last minute, and I’d feel bad for her missing work.

Being a single parent challenged me at times like this. I’d get angry with my past, the choices I’d made, even Lex for what he’d done to me. But then I’d remind myself that Sebastian was the best thing that had ever happened to me. Even if I did push away any man who asked me on a date because bringing a stranger into my life with a child to care for was never going to happen. I was lonely, but it was for the best.

Lifting my son to my chest, I pressed his head down until he draped it over my shoulder, then I rocked. The back-and-forth motion soothed us both and after a while, I was dozing off. I never even realized he slipped off my lap until hours later when the sun was up, shining through his bedroom window and waking me. I jolted upright and looked around, but Bash was fine, sitting next to his toy box with every toy he could reach lying on the ground around him. His sippy cup was empty next to the bed and his diaper was full, but he seemed happier than he’d been in days.

I yawned and stretched, then took out my phone and looked at the time. I should have been at work ten minutes ago, so I called my boss and told him I’d need another day off. I loved that my workplace was so family-oriented. They had someone to fill in for me when Bash had appointments or needed me, and I loved the nannies they provided at daycare. I was so blessed to have found this job, and I told my father every chance I got how thankful I was for him having pushed me to audition.

With Bash on my hip and in a clean diaper so he was comfortable, I picked up the sippy cup and headed to the kitchen. Both of us were hungry and I needed the nourishment or I’d continue to feel crappy. So, I strapped him in his highchair and he babbled in baby language while I cut up a banana and got a handful of cereal rings for him to munch on. Then I made a pot of coffee and two slices of toast and pulled his highchair closer to my seat.

No matter how I tried to rationalize it or justify it, the lonely ache in the pit of my stomach didn’t go away. It was magnified when I was sick too, as if God himself had put me under a microscope and plagued me with whatever ailed me as a means to force introspection. Believe me, I thought about it a lot.

Part of my soul was irreparably damaged by my experience with Alexander Hartman. I thought I could take it but I couldn’t. I thought if a man could play the field so could I, and I tried it. But I fell so hard my crown broke and taught me that my heart was too soft, too easily moved by others. I wasn’t cut out for playing the field, and I most definitely wasn’t cut out for men who did. I needed more. My soul craved the deep connection I thought I had with Lex, and every time I turned a man away, I turned away a chance to find that in someone new. I just couldn’t. Not yet. I was afraid of being hurt. I was afraid of letting Sebastian get hurt. And most of all I was afraid that if I got hurt again, I’d never recover.

My phone rang and I pulled it out of my pocket. The caller ID announced it was Amy and I swiped to answer. I wasn’t really feeling up for a call but stewing over my past decisions and my current predicament wasn’t helping. Besides she probably just wanted to know how Bash was doing since I had texted her yesterday that he wasn’t feeling well.

“Hey, Momma, how’s baby doing?” Amy and her husband had been trying unsuccessfully to get pregnant for a while and I felt bad. I hadn’t even tried to get pregnant, and one oopsie was all it took for me. No committed relationship, no partner to shoulder the burden with. They were a loving couple who desperately wanted to be parents and I felt like somehow this guilt was my punishment for a past life or something.

“Bash is starting to feel better,” I said, then sniffled and fought off a coughing attack. I needed a tissue, but I didn’t want to leave him sitting alone, so I got up and walked to the counter where I tore a paper towel off the roll.

“Oof, you sound sick now. Did you catch his cold?”

I slumped back into the seat and moaned. My body ached like never before. For thirty-one years old you’d have thought my body would fight this better. It was reacting more like I was in my fifties and out of shape.

“Yeah, I think I did. I’m taking another day off.” I coughed again, the talking rattling my chest and knocking some phlegm loose. “How are you?”

Amy sighed and hummed as she did. “I’m fine, hon. You don’t worry about me. I just wanted to check on the two of you. It feels like I should be there. I know I’m not your mom or anything but…”

Bash threw his sippy cup and smacked the tray of his highchair, which told me he was almost done eating. He’d get bored and then begin acting up. It was something I picked up—his way of communicating with me. Which meant I had only a few minutes left to chat before my day got harder.

“I know, but don’t feel bad. I can handle this.” My reassurance was aimed at myself as much as Amy. I had to pep myself up for the task of chasing a toddler around all day when I felt miserable. Mom could be here in a few hours if I booked a flight; my God how I’d love that.

“Oh, I thought you’d want to know, I’ve been keeping tabs on a certain someone.” The comment made my chest tense before she even continued. There was a sick curiosity I had to know what Lex was up to, if he’d changed, but I never asked her. Still, like the most amazing best friend, she always knew when to tell me and what to tell me. I just wasn’t sure today was a day I was prepared for it.

“And?” I asked, picking up the sippy cup and dropping it in the sink.

“And he’s hired another surgeon. It looks to me like the practice is doing really well. Babe, you’re torturing yourself. He’s moved on; you should too…” Ever the one pushing me to rebound, even two years later, Amy continued to nudge. Maybe it was a sign to actually attempt to move on. Being sick and alone sucked, but being healthy with a broken heart was just as bad.

“Thanks, Ames. I gotta go, okay? I need to wash Bash and get him some toys.” I stood and leaned on the table as a wave of fever-induced dizziness made my head spin. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Sure thing, hon. You know I’m only trying to help. I hate seeing you alone and miserable. If you had a man there, he could take care of Bash so you could rest.” It was a fair point and I saw where she was coming from, but it was still a hard no.

“I gotta run…”

“Bye, Chuck.”

“Bye.” I hung up and put the phone in my pocket, and all her call served to do was make me sadder. I decided to go ahead and make the call to Mom. I could be sick a few more days and I needed the help, and the distraction. Now all I’d be doing was stewing over how Lex could move on and I remained stuck and grieving what we were supposed to have had. A “tiny little family” to “figure out later.” What a joke.

26

LEX

The flight wasn’t bad, but not having a drink in-flight was challenging. Even after five days in rehab following my seven-day hospital stay. The doctor’s orders were to go on vacation, though I didn’t think she meant it this literally. I just couldn’t sit around my house staring at the walls and not have a drink. I had even considered selling my home just so I would have a change of scenery and be able to start fresh.

My suitcase sat at the foot of the hotel room bed all night, unopened. I’d slept in my boxers, another night of sweating and tossing around. This morning, I had no appetite again. They said this would happen, that I wouldn’t feel like myself for a while because everything I did had revolved around drinking for so long. I had to relearn what it meant to do life again, all without alcohol. And I had to do it alone. I had no support system in place to help me other than Ella, but she couldn’t keep nagging me and hedging me in. I had to do it for myself.

I reached for the remote on the nightstand and flipped the TV on. Taking this short trip to San Francisco was supposed to be my chance to prove myself. My sponsor was waiting on me to check in and would be waiting for me at the airport when I returned next week. I was certain I would struggle, but no one said it would be easy. Still, this was the only location I could think about going that brought me any peace. I loved the state of California, but I couldn’t stomach the fakeness of LA or its crowd, and San Diego was too hot.

The TV flashed to life on a random cable channel. After drugging myself last night so I could shut off—they gave me a cocktail of stronger trazodone, clonidine, and now Paxil to control the mood swings—I just passed out. It wasn’t the high or buzz of drinking, but at least it helped my body shut off so I could rest. I was getting there, safely, without another heart attack.

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