Page 68 of The Love Dose
I step out onto the pavement, deeply relieved to see my car idling in front of Calvin’s building.
Paul gets out and rounds the car. “Are you okay, Mrs. Page?” His tone reveals a deep concern, bringing on more tears.
I shake my head, enter the backseat but don’t explain. I can’t right now.
I text Evie. Obsessed with my own problems, I’ve neglected the friendship. She shoots me a quick reply. By some miracle, she’s in town for a meeting. She’s leaving in the morning to be with Adam in Yosemite for the holidays. She insists I come over.
Paul remains quiet for the duration of the drive, dropping me off outside Evie’s building.
She’s waiting in the lobby and when sees my face, her own eyes begin to water. I’ve never been so grateful for our friendship as I am right now. I’m a mess, my eyes red and puffy.
She brings me into a hug and I cry on her shoulder. Literally.
We head up to her place and before I even shed my coat, she hands me a glass of red wine.
Once we’re settled on the sofa, the bottle on the coffee table between us, my best friend says, “Tell me everything.”
I bring her up to date on all that’s transpired from the time I left the hospital. Rachel’s visit, the trip to Vermont, the blizzard, the steamy kisses with Calvin. Evie listens intently.
When I finally come up for air, most of the bottle is gone.
Evie sets her legs on my lap and reaches for a bar of Swiss chocolate. “Do you want me to say something to make you feel better or tell you the truth?”
I have a buzz but I don’t hesitate. “Truth.”
She gives me a laser-eyed look and pops a square of chocolate into her mouth. “You’re scared.”
I try to make sense of that. “Of losing him?”
“Yes, that too. But I mean, you’re scared of Chacha.”
“That’s ridiculous. He’s five years old.”
“He represents all that you’ve gone without. Children, routine, family. Some by choice and some by circumstance.”
I sense a prickle in my chest and recognize it as defensiveness. But Evie is right. I felt threatened by a child I had never met. Until I did.
Chacha is a sweet, precocious little boy. He’s not scary or threatening. Still, some latent unresolved issues are rearing their pesky heads.
“Go on,” I say, taking control of the candy bar.
Evie’s brow lifts and I know she’s surprised that I’m taking her assessment so well.
“You love Calvin.”
She is not asking.
“I do.” Desperately. Two squares in the mouth. I savor the heavenly flavors exploding on my taste buds. Coming here was without question the right move.
I pull out my phone and show Evie the photo of me and Calvin, our snow angels behind us. There’s no missing the glee on our faces.
Evie taps the screen, her tone soft. “This is what love looks like.”
We’re both quiet for a beat, then she adds, “I’m not going to sugarcoat it. Rearing a child is a huge undertaking. Your life shifts into a different gear, far from anything that came before it. Your time is not your own, you become everything to a little human, someone whose life literally depends on you, whose moral compass is guided by your own.”
I’m listening intently, aware thatthisis what’s terrifying me. I’m not sure I have the necessary qualities. I take a breath and share that with Evie.
She smiles. “None of us are sure of that, sweetie. Not before, during, or after having kids. All I can say is, you are one of the most generous, giving people I know. Those are pretty good parental qualities.”
