Page 37 of Camera Chemistry
“Did you want to be a doctor growing up?”
“No.” She laughs. Her hand draws lazy circles on my arm. “I wanted to be a receptionist in a doctor’s office. I would set up a fake desk with a keyboard and type, pretending I was looking up patient information.”
“What made you pursue the medical field, then?”
“A kid in middle school said girls weren’t as smart as boys. He told me girls should be teachers, because it’s easy, and only boys get to do the hard jobs. As if teaching is easy. My sister is in education, and you couldn’t pay me to put up with the shit she does. Teachers are miracle workers.”
“My brother is in education, too. You’re right. Their profession is wrongfully shit on. I wouldn’t last a day in a classroom. Did you ever track the douchebag down and tell him about your success?”
“I did one better. I sent him an invitation to my med school graduation. And when the news article came out about me accepting my current role, I forwarded it to him on Facebook.”
“Maggie Houston.” I laugh. “You’re a badass.”
“More like petty and bitter, but I’ll accept the compliment.” She pauses. “Would you tell me more about Maven?”
“Of course. What do you want to know?”
“Anything you’re willing to share.”
I smile on instinct thinking about her. “She wasn’t planned. I wasn’t sure if I even wanted kids, to be honest. The day she was born, though, I fell hopelessly in love. I realized I was put on this earth to be her dad. No title after my name will ever be as good as that.”
“Do you two get along?”
“Yeah. It’s hard to find the boundary between parent and friend sometimes. I’ll do a stupid TikTok dance with her, but then I have to scold her for not finishing her homework. It’s a give and take. Sixteen years, and I’m still learning. I’m far from a perfect father, but I do my best.”
“That’s all we can ask for from our parents. You love her, and you show her you love her. The rest is just extra.” Maggie sighs. “You’re lucky.”
I hear the remorse in her tone. I know there’s a story there, a part of her life she’s keeping tucked away, sheltered from scrutiny. Understanding the heaviness settling between us, I rub Maggie’s shoulder. “I am. But kids don’t define a person.”
“I got divorced because I couldn’t have children,” she says. It’s so soft, so broken, I can’t help but bring her closer and squeeze her tight.
“Sweetheart, I don’t want you to feel obligated to share anything personal with me just because I did. You’re allowed to keep parts of yourself private.”
“I want to tell you, though. Unless you don’t want to hear it.”
“Maggie,” I say. “I want to hear everything you have to say. I promise to listen. And if you start a story and decide halfway through you don’t want to talk anymore, that’s okay, too.”
She nods and gnaws on her bottom lip. I wait, letting her take the time she needs.
“My ex and I got married after a few years together, and we were on the same page about wanting children. We started trying right after the wedding. It’s rare that it happens so soon, so we were patient. My in-laws began pressuring us. My friends were having kids, and we weren’t. We tried, and nothing worked. A couple years passed, and after multiple visits with specialists, I was told I’m unable to have children. And that was it. My marriage fell apart afterward. We got divorced. I’ll always have that hole in my heart, I think, of wanting something and not being able to have it.”
I hear her sniff, and a fitful burst of protection barrels into me. I need to comfort her. I need to wipe away her tears. I need her to know how wonderful she is.
“Sweetheart,” I whisper. I peel myself out from under her, and sit up. She’s beautiful under the light of the moon. “There are other paths you could take. Have you looked into adoption?”
“I work sixty hours a week. It’d be impossible to raise a child on my own. I’m making this a big deal. I’m fine, I promise. Therapy helps a lot. I have nieces and nephews who I love. Maybe one day, when I find the man I’ll marry, he’ll have a family from a previous life, and I’ll fit in with them.”
“Found family is still family. Just because it’s not blood doesn’t mean it’s less special.”
“I know. It’s like you said earlier. We have to have hope, right?”
“Right,” I say. “Thank you for sharing with me. You’re an incredible woman, Maggie, and I’m sorry anyone has ever made you feel less than wonderful.”
“One day, someone’s going to scoop you up, Aiden,” she says softly. I see a flicker in her eye, the brightness dimming. “And they’re going to be very lucky.”
“The same goes for you. Promise me you’ll never settle for less than someone who treats you like the queen you are.”
Maggie leans forward. She climbs into my lap, straddling my thighs. Her lips press to my hairline, and her hand cups the scruff of my beard. “I promise.”
