Chapter 37 Russell
Russell
After the talk with Cal, I have to get out of the hospital.
Somehow, like feet that always steer you home, my car points in the direction of the clinic downtown. I pull up outside, cutting the engine and turning slowly, expecting to see cardboard up on the windows, a sign announcing it to be officially closed.
But that’s not what I see.
Instead, the lights are on inside, and a woman with a baby is trying to get the door open.
Hopping out of the car, I step over to her, opening the door, blinking in confusion at her presence, at the unlocked door, at the lights being on.
Her baby coughs, and she says, “Thank you,” quickly before ducking inside and heading over to the check-in counter, which is staffed and operational.
“What the…hell?” I mutter, standing in the entry way long enough that when someone else comes through the door, I’m in the way. I blink and move to the side, trying to figure out if that intense conversation with my cousin sent me into some sort of psychotic break.
“Hey man, you’re not on the schedule for today, are you?”
I turn to see Orie with a shit-eating grin on his face, despite the casual greeting. He’s wearing a pair of slacks and a button-up under his white doctor’s coat, a stethoscope hanging around his neck.
“What the hell is this?” I ask, gesturing at…all of it. The people in the waiting room, the nurses bustling from station to station, the pharmacy techs delivering shots and medications.
“Come here so you’ll stop swearing in front of these people,” Orie says, turning and gesturing for me to follow him into the main area.
When I do, I find Orie isn’t the only physician here—there are several others, including Dr. Jonston, whose blonde ponytail swings just like it did that first day I saw Jules in the emergency room.
“Orie, what—”
“I tried to talk to you about it at the game,” he says, cutting me off with a laugh. “But you didn’t want to hear it, remember?”
I stare at him, and he laughs again, shaking his head and leaning back against the wall, his clipboard on his thigh.
“You rich people always think the only way to solve a problem is throwing money at it. But I come from a place where hands are a lot more important,” he says, lifting his hand in demonstration.
“What the hell do you mean, hands?” I ask, voice filled with wonder rather than frustration. I still can’t quite believe this is real.
Orie shrugs, “Asked around at the hospital to see if people would be willing to pitch in. More doctors doing pro-bono shifts. Nurses and techs, too. You’d be surprised what people are willing to do if you promise them coffee and donuts.”
“There’s no way—”
“Some of us also chipped in what we could,” Orie cuts in, “and, when I went to the board with my plan, they let me know that this fundraising season has been pretty lucrative, anyway. So even without the promise of your contribution, they’ve funded up through the first half of the fiscal year.”
I blink at him, my mind still running a beat behind. I spent all this time thinking I was the only thing stopping the clinic from closing that I never even considered other options.
Talking to Cal. Asking for help.
“Dr. Burch, good to see you,” one of the doctors says, skirting around us and greeting a patient, pulling the curtain around them with a metallic clinking.
“Holy shit,” I mutter.
Orie claps me on the back, “Dude, there are kids here.”
As though the universe has heard that sentiment, my phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out. A text from Calvin.
“What’s that?” Orie asks, and maybe he sees the text, or maybe he can figure it out from the look on my face. “Wow—you actually went through with the test?”
I nod, staring at my phone like it might combust in my hand if I’m not careful.
This is it—the moment I’ve been avoiding. The reason I ever considered letting Jules go in the first place. The results that might break me if I see them.
“I know you’re all in your head about this,” Orie says, clapping a hand on my shoulder, “But I want to remind you again that I was adopted. Nothing wrong with getting your girl and the kid, man. Gus already loves you. If she’s right about it—I mean, that would be really cool, and kind of insane, but it’s not the whole point, right? ”
“Right,” I agree, taking a breath. The point is being willing to take the test. To face my past if it means having Jules—and Gus—in the present.
Orie is right. I already love Gus like he’s my son, have a connection with him, and I’ve only known him for a few months. I can be a father to him no matter what my sperm is like.
This isn’t Margot. Jules isn’t Margot.
She’s not going to leave or look at me like I’m defective. In fact, up until that day in the park, she had only ever looked at me like I was something wonderful.
“Alright,” I say, voice thick, as I tap into Cal’s message and his photo of the results from the lab fill the screen.
I stare, and stare, and stare at it.
“Holy shit,” Orie says, now the one swearing in front of the clinic kids.
“His play,” I say, already dropping the phone, realizing that in the rush of everything—talking to Cal, ordering the test, and coming down to the clinic—I managed to forget about the televised Christmas nativity thing Gus is doing with CBS.
“Go, man!” Orie says, practically shoving me to the side, a huge smile over his face. “You’d better not miss your chance.”