Page 114 of We Were Something
“Don’t tell me about services for single mothers like I’m a patient.” She jerks her hand out of mine and stands, spins, pointing a finger in my face, her eyes still watery but filled with anger. “You can’t just leave me behind like this. You can’t justabandonme when I need you.”
“You don’t need me, Jen. You’re just scared, and that’s normal. But you’ll figure it out. I promise.”
She bursts into tears and drops back into her chair, her arms wrapping around her stomach as she rocks gently back and forth. Taking her hand back in mine, I look deep into her watery eyes, hoping what I’m about to say helps in some way.
“Jen, you made your choice. You decided having a baby was more important than our marriage, and I don’t fault you for that. I don’t, and I never will. But sleeping with Rodney and getting pregnant, that was your choice. And I truly, deeply hope having this child will bring you the happiness you thought it would.”
I shake my head.
“But I love Paige. This decision you’ve made? It’s aboutyourhappiness. And I have to go off and find mine.”
We sit together for long moments, Jen’s sobs tapering off slowly and her breaths finally becoming normal again.
“You really love her?” she asks.
I nod, smiling sadly, knowing my answer will hurt her.
“Yeah.”
She nods her head too then squeezes my hand one more time before letting me go.
“Someday, I hope I can be happy for you,” she whispers. “I really do.”
It’s three weeks to the day after Mom’s crash when I finally fly back to Los Angeles, exhausted and ready for a break I know I’m not going to get for quite a while.
The first stop Iwantto make is Paige’s house, but I know I need to at least swing by the hospital to check in with my patients and let them know I’ll be returning to their cases. Carrie has been sending me daily updates while I’ve been in Seattle, so I’ll at least have the ability to sound informed as I move from room to room, checking in with the kids who have been in my wing for quite some time.
“Welcome back,” Carrie says, greeting me when I walk through the door on Saturday evening.
“I said you didn’t need to come in on your weekend,” I say, though there’s no real reprimand in my tone.
Truth be told, I’m glad she offered to come in and walk rounds with me to go over the things I’ve missed. She’ll be able to grab the right nurses and residents to give me answers to the list of questions I made on the flight back.
“Oh please, how else are you planning to get caught up if I’m not here to hold your hand,” she teases.
Once I’ve changed into scrubs and a coat, Carrie and I move slowly through each room, giving me a chance to check in with each kid and any parents or loved ones who are currently visiting.
When we get to Ivy’s room, I wave to get her attention, appreciating the beaming smile she gives me, regardless of how tired she looks.
I spent some time listening to the pile up of voicemails I’ve acquired over the past few weeks, including a scathing one from Ivy’s father. In it, he’d basically implied that his money is what pays my salary and how dare I take time off to travel when he’s footing the bill for blah blah blah. I listened to the whole thing while rolling my eyes and in continued disbelief that Calvin and Vivian are somehow responsible for the amazing group of people that are constantly in and out of Ivy’s room.
Though today, the first time I’m seeing Ivy in just over three weeks, I’m surprised to find that she’s alone in her room, her normal posse of friends and siblings absent, at least for the moment.
“Look at you,” I say, crossing the room and pulling up a chair at her bedside. “How are we feeling?”
Tired, she writes on her board.
“That’s the PNHandthe chemo,” I tell her. “You had your final round yesterday morning, right?”
She nods.
“Have they been giving you lots of popsicles?”
At that, she gives me another tired smile.
“Good. Well, I just wanted to come by and let you know I’m back. I’m sorry I missed out on Lucas and Hannah’s donation surgery, but Iwillbe here to perform the transplant for you once Dr. Singh sends us your brand new bone marrow, okay? Any questions?”
Ivy flips her board around and writes a new message then spins it back to show it to me.
