Page 22 of The Love Dose
Chapter Fifteen
Calvin
Idon’t know what possessed me to kiss Caroline. Granted, it was on her forehead but still highly inappropriate for an ER doctor treating a patient.
But she’s my friend. My close friend. One of the few people in this city who I know I can count on. The thought of losing her is paralyzing.
I plop down on the sofa in the doctor’s mess and lay back, stretching out my legs, trying to clear my mind long enough to grab a thirty-minute power nap. My thoughts are rampant, focused on Caroline’s health. If she doesn’t minimize the level of stress in her life, she’s destined for another cardiac episode.
I have so much more to discuss with her about this and other topics I've been holding onto but haven’t found the right time.
I decide to ponder more cheerful things.
Chacha.
I conjure up the sweet boy’s angelic face, his tight ebony curls, his small fingers. I can’t wait to give him a bear hug. I can’twait to watch his face shine with wonder the first time he sees snow.
When I left for Tanzania with the medical mission, it never entered my mind that I would adopt a little boy from the local orphanage. It happened so quickly and so perfectly.
I spent morning till night treating everything from malaria to broken bones. On day one, a young boy, no more than five, began following me around. He was very thin and noticeably bright. He spoke both Swahili and a passable English. I learned someone had read to him a story about a kind, funny doctor and it was all I could do to convince him it wasn’t me. He never left my side.
When I asked the elders about Chacha’s family, I was told there were none. His mother died in childbirth and his father left to work in the city and never returned. His grandmother cared for the child but when her own health declined, she sent Chacha off to the orphanage. The caretaker was informed of my interest and began an all-out campaign for me to adopt the child. There was an obvious connection between us, he said. I could give him a good life.
I literally laughed out loud. I can barely take care of myself. I work all day and most nights. Ergo, no friends.
But as the days passed, I couldn’t get the idea out of my mind. Chacha and I were sympatico.
I remember the moment I made the decision. I was walking him back to the orphanage and he put his hand in mine. “Good night, Papa.”
I thought I misheard but he repeated it. I wanted to tell him that he used the wrong word but I couldn’t. I knew then that if I could work out the details, tackle the mountain of paperwork, I would adopt him and figure out everything else later. It’s why I stayed longer in Tanzania than originally intended. If all goes to plan, soon I’m going to be a dad.
It wasn’t a thought-out strategy never to mention it to Caroline but I’m glad I didn’t. She has enough on her plate without engaging in my personal challenges. I also don’t want her to try and change my mind. Becoming a dad is the most exciting adventure I could ever imagine.
The sky out the window is darkening. Short days, long nights.
I was planning to head home for some much needed shut-eye but with Caroline staying the night, I’ll stick around. I tried hard to keep a professional distance from her and failed miserably. I’m fairly certain the intake nurse saw my momentary panic when Caroline was wheeled in.
As if on cue, the nurse enters the room, takes a seat in one of the lounge chairs and flips through a magazine. Thankfully, she doesn't say anything about the earlier incident. Actually, she doesn't say anything at all. I must lookthatexhausted.
I close my eyes and doze off to the sound of flipping pages and a vision of Chacha playing in the snow.
Chapter Sixteen
Caroline
Ican’t wait to get out of here. Between the beeping machines and bleary-eyed nurses showing up at every hour of the night, all I want is to go home and pour a glass of wine. Even if it is 7:30 in the morning.
Last night, they admitted me. I’m sure Calvin was very involved in that decision. I haven’t seen him since he read me the riot act.
I know I scared him but he doesn’t get it. I can’t simply walk away from the lawsuit. The judge will award Bernard’s kids everything they’re demanding. It’s not an option.
Thankfully, the IV is gone and I’m no longer tethered like a bad sci-fi experiment. I get up carefully, relieved to be standing on my own two feet and shuffle forward like a newborn giraffe, learning to use its legs. I rummage through my purse for makeup and a hairbrush and step into the massive wheelchair-accessible bathroom, leaving the door ajar.
“Are you okay?”
I look out to find Bernard’s daughter, Rachel, standing in the doorway, wearing a white lab coat and a stethoscope around her neck. If my blood pressure isn’t spiking, it’s a miracle.
Rachel is an attending physician here. She must have seen my name pop up somewhere.
