22. Ethan
22
ETHAN
“ W hat are you doing here?” I ask, looking her up and down. She looks good. Young, put together, and healthy. Her blue eyes are glistening, and her skin is glowing.
“I wanted to give you time to think everything over, but I got worried when I went in for my shift today and saw that you’d called in sick. Val says it’s the first time you’ve called in in six years. Is that true?”
I open the door wider and turn, leading her through the house. She steps in and closes the door behind her before following me through to the kitchen, where I stop to grab a bottle of water.
“Are you sick?” she asks.
I’m sure I don’t look the best. I’m wearing baggy sweatpants and a T-shirt. I’m covered in sweat, and I didn’t shave this morning, so a dark scruff is growing across my jaw. “I’m not sick,” I tell her, uncapping the bottle. “You want a drink?” I ask, moving the bottle to my lips and chugging down a large portion.
She shakes her head. “I’m fine. Ethan, what’s going on?”
“Sit down.” I motion toward the table as I walk around it, pulling out a chair and sitting.
She takes a deep breath like she’s tired of me putting off answering her questions, but she sits next to me at the table, turning her chair so she’s facing me while we talk.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. I run my hands over my face, hoping to ease the stress. It doesn’t work, not that I expected it to. “I’m sorry to leave you hanging, it’s just that I finally started making a little headway here, and I didn’t want to stop or allow myself to get distracted.”
“It’s fine. I wanted to give you some time,” she says, reaching over to take my hand.
I look at our clasped hands. If I closed my eyes, this would feel right, but I never spent much time seeing how we look together. We’re complete opposites. My hand is tanned and old, with lines formed on my skin. Her hand is young and soft, and her skin is smooth and doesn’t have a single line marring it. Her thumb gently rubs my skin soothingly. She’s only looking at my face. She’s not analyzing everything or thinking about how silly we must look together.
“From the minute you told me you were pregnant, I couldn’t think of anything but the past. I heard you say those words, but all I saw was the moment when she said them, and I was filled with dread all over again.”
Her brows pull together. “Is that what this is about? You think you’ll lose me like you lost her?” She squeezes my hand a little tighter. “That’s not going to happen, Ethan. I’m young and healthy. I have no worries about having a baby. I mean, not those kinds of worries.”
That’s when I realize the mistake I’ve made. Not for myself, but for her. She opened up to me, told me how she was raised, and that her one dream in life was to not become her mother. By getting her pregnant, that’s what I’ve forced her into. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” I pull my hand from hers, letting my hands rest in my lap. “I’m sorry for coming along and fucking up your life. This is all my fault. You were doing just fine until you met me.”
“I know how hard this must be for you. You have a lot of baggage because of your past. Me coming into your office like that set you off. Now you’ve just been here, spiraling with nobody to stop it, but I’m here now. We can handle this.”
“You might be younger than me, but you’re obviously more mature.”
She smiles. “Why do you say that?”
“You should be pissed. You should hate me. You should be crying, screaming, and hitting me. I took your life and played with it. I derailed your dreams and turned you into the one person you didn’t want to be.”
Her smile falls away. “The only way I turn into my mom is if I have this baby and have to raise it alone, if I’m struggling to care for it and myself. Is that what you’re trying to tell me? That you’re not going to step up and be a father?”
I see the panic flare in her eyes, but she’s hit the nail on the head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t,” I breathe.
“What do you mean, you can’t?” Her eyes widen as she looks at me. “Yes, you can.” She nods. “I’m not doing this alone. I didn’t sign up for that.”
Guilt thickens my throat. “I know, and I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying you’re sorry and tell me you’re going to man up and be here for me and this baby.”
I take a deep breath. “I would not leave you like your mother was left.”
She breathes a sigh of relief.
“I would never let you struggle with this. That’s why I didn’t go to the hospital today. I’ve been here, preparing.”
“Preparing? How?”
“I’ve been packing. I’m signing the house over to you, and I’m going to set up a joint bank account that I’ll deposit money into weekly for you to use however you need. The house is paid off, but you’ll need to keep up with insurance, property taxes, and utilities. Plus, you’ll have a child to raise and all the stuff that comes along with that. I’ll make sure I deposit enough to cover it all. You won’t have to work if you don’t want to.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t understand.”
“I told you, Ally. I can’t do this. I can’t be a father. I can’t be the man you need, but I’ll never let you turn into your mother. You might be a single mom, but you and this baby will want for nothing. I’ll make sure you are financially taken care of until the day I die. I just need a couple more hours to finish packing, and I’ll be out of here, and the place will be yours.” I stand and grab the bottle of water. “I’m sorry for everything,” I whisper, bending slightly to press a kiss to the top of her head before I walk away.
I walk through the entryway and down the hall. I stop and look into the room that’s been closed for six years. The nursery is just as my wife left it. Once I came back from the hospital without either of them, I couldn’t stand to look at this room. I closed the door that day, and it’s stayed closed ever since. Until now. This room will finally have a child to live in it.
I turn away from the room and continue down the hallway to my bedroom. My suitcase is open on the footboard bench, half packed with the clothes I’ll need for my trip. I will have everything else shipped later. I move into the bathroom and grab my shaving kit. When I turn around, I find Ally standing in the doorway, taking in the vanity that’s been emptied.
“Where’d everything go?”
“I got rid of it. It was time,” I reply, stepping past her to move into the bedroom.
She turns to face me. “I’m glad you’re putting the past behind you, but I didn’t want to be a part of it.” She walks over to me and takes the bag from my hand, tossing it into my suitcase. “Where are you going?”
“Another hospital has been trying to get me to take over their pediatric cardiology department for years. I always turned them down because I wasn’t ready to move on and let go of this place.” I look around. “But it’s time. I took the job. I start Monday.”
“What?” Does the hospital know?”
“I’ll write my resignation on the plane,” I assure her. “I haven’t been under contract for some time, so there’s nothing they can do but accept it.”
“Okay, slow down,” she says, grabbing my wrists and pulling me around the bed. She turns me and pushes me back, telling me to sit down. “What is going on? How do you go from the guy I knew yesterday to this? One minute you’re refusing to throw away a six-year-old bar of soap, and now, you’re throwing away the house and your career. People don’t change this much this fast. Slow down. You’re making all these life-changing decisions, and you’re going to regret them.”
“Did you know that I never saw my child?”
“What?” She tilts her head.
“I couldn’t. Amelia passed first, and I couldn’t look at the baby because I was hurt and pissed, and deep down, I guess I resented the baby for taking Amelia away from me. I knew that the point would come when that would change. Eventually, I’d be forced to take the baby home, to care for it and love it, and I was okay with that. I planned to be the best father I could be, but until that point came, I was going to hold onto my anger to keep from feeling the pain of losing my wife. But then things didn’t end up like I thought they would. The baby was born too early. It wasn’t strong enough. After the baby had passed, they asked if I wanted to see it, hold it, and I said no.” My chest tightens with regret. “I thought not seeing it would make the grieving process easier, you know? You can’t miss what you never had.”
I shrug. “That decision didn’t bother me at first. I told myself it would get better. Over the years, I have regretted it more and more. I found myself wondering if it looked like her or me, or if it looked similar to this baby or that baby I saw in the hospital. That’s when I stopped working with infants. It was too hard. Suddenly, I saw them all as my baby. When I lost a patient, I wasn’t reacting as if I lost any patient. I was acting like I lost my child all over again. It was too heavy and too hard to face over and over.” I look up, my eyes locking with hers. “So, trust me when I say that I know regret. I know regret more than anyone. I know I’ll regret leaving you, but I’ll never regret leaving this house.” I look around now. “It’s full of too many bad memories for me, but it will be perfect for you and your child. It was made for a family.”
“We’re not a family without you,” she says, stepping closer.
“Not yet, but you will be. You and this baby will be each other’s family. And I know it’s only a matter of time before you find the man you’re meant to be with. You’ll find a man who will want to give you everything I can’t. And when you find him, he’ll love this child like it’s his own. All the pain, sadness, and misery I’ve filled this house with will be erased by the love, happiness, and excitement you bring to it.” I take a deep breath and push myself to stand.
She’s so surprised by my response that she takes a step back, giving me room to walk back to my suitcase.
At the foot of the bed, I close the suitcase. “I need to get going before I miss my flight. As I said earlier, I will sign the house over to you. My lawyer is already drawing up all the paperwork. Once I get to where I’m going, I’ll sign everything and have it filed. Of course, I’ll send you copies of everything. I’ll also open that account and get some funds in it ASAP in case there’s anything you need.” I pick up my suitcase and look back at her. “If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to reach out. And Ally…”
Her eyes meet mine. They’re filled with tears.
“I’m so sorry. This was never my intention.” With that, I turn for the door.
My body feels ten times lighter. I’ve been carrying the weight of the world on my back for so long that I got used to the feeling. I thought the pain subsided long ago. As it turns out, it never did. I only got stronger and used to carrying it. Now that I’ve allowed myself to put it down, I feel light enough to fly. I had no idea how heavy it was to carry around the pain of losing my wife and child.
The moment I realize this, I find myself picking up the hurt and disappointment I’ve brought to Ally. It might not be as heavy as what I’m used to carrying, but it hurts differently. I know walking away from her will leave me feeling sore and tired, but nothing compared to what I’m used to. At least, I think. Who knows, maybe this will eat at me over time, too. By the time my end comes, there won’t be anything left.