Chapter 45
Chapter Forty Five
Veronica
I stop there, the pen hovering above the notebook paper, my heart thuds wildly against my ribs.
Writing makes it feel real in a way that nothing else has.
Before I know it, a small wet circle decorates the paper.
He’s a father. A father…. and not—I can’t bring myself to finish the thought.
Even though I’m crying, it doesn’t hurt the way I thought it would.
Not exactly… it just settles. Maybe it’s acceptance.
This is his future, and I’m still trying to figure mine out.
It’s not like I didn’t expect him to step up and be a dad.
My mistake was thinking I had more time.
I wasn’t ready for it to happen so soon.
As much as it pains me to admit, I don’t think I’m ready, which is another reason why I haven’t reached out or told him that I'm back in town. Permanently this time.
It feels wrong not to tell him. Even though everyone around him knows.
It wasn’t like I asked them to keep this secret.
It kinda just happened. While I don’t want secrecy to be the foundation of this new version of myself, it’s selfish of me to pull him into my orbit when he needs to be focused on something more important.
I wasn’t against him finding out. If he finds out, well, he finds out.
And if he doesn’t, that’s okay too. I’m not hiding.
I’m just not ready to be seen—not by him at least. Not just yet.
Looking down at the journal, I decide that’s it for today…
that’s all I need to say before I shift my focus to unpacking the boxes in my new apartment.
Isaac isn’t the only one focusing on his future.
I have a new place. A new job. And dare I say, a new positive outlook.
I didn’t think I would have, but watching him gracefully accept his role made me look deep within myself.
Made me accept this new version of me, one that’s finally beginning to live.
My job is within walking distance of my apartment, nothing glamorous, but it has good hours and benefits.
Just what I needed. It all feels like a breath of fresh air on a nice summer day.
The more time that passes by, the less it feels like survival and the more it feels like independence.
I also started therapy, this time of my own volition.
Without feeling the constant pull of someone else's expectations shaping what I say.
As expected, some days are better than others.
On the hard nights, when I can’t find sleep, I check my phone and check up on Isaac with social media.
I don’t like that I do this, it feels like I’m stalking.
Hmm… maybe I am, but I no longer punishing myself for wanting to.
It brings me joy. And as Dr. Martin Seligman says, ‘You gotta enjoy the little things.’ Plus, he’s not really active on it either, but the small updates help bring a smile to my lips.
It’s like I'm part of something personal, something his. And I love it.
It’s become my own little routine, something that I slowly look forward to.
Even if it is just a little NICU update.
A small sunrise through a small hospital window.
A new milestone. A coffee cup on his Camaro dashboard.
But my favorite is the picture of the small hand wrapped around his large calloused finger.
There’s no caption, just a grainy picture that says everything without a word.
As always, I make sure not to like the picture.
I don’t share it. What I do is stare at it longer than I should.
letting the image burn itself into my brain before I set the phone back down beside me.
Then taking in a deep breath and visualizing myself lying in a field of baby breaths as butterflies flutter around me.
The sight brings me peace. I feel at peace.
In the wise words of my therapist, with healing, we just don’t pretend love never existed.
We let it change, let it shape itself without tearing yourself apart trying to control it.
My phone buzzes beside me. Using my hand, I fish it from its spot. Glancing at Alexa’s name on the screen, I slide my finger on the screen to open the message.
Lex:
Are you settled enough to be social?
A smirk pulls at my lips, contemplating whether I should find an excuse or live a little. I go with living, but before I can respond, another message pops up.
Lex:
It doesn’t matter. I refuse to let you become a hermit again.
Lex:
We are going out tonight. Don’t argue. Wear something hot.
I huff out a laugh, despite myself, and using my elbows, I lift myself.
Staring at the messages, accepting defeat.
I’ll be going out tonight. It’s going to be fun.
If I could do it back in San Juan, I can do it here.
I owe myself that much. And her. Alexa has been my constant since I got back, fuck even before.
But now, she’s become my lifeline, always checking in, dragging me out for coffee, sitting with me during the days I feel like I’m slipping back into darkness.
There are no questions, no judgments… only a shoulder to lean on when times get rough. I type back.
Me:
I just finished unpacking the last of it. I’m exhausted.
The reply comes instantly.
Lex:
Exactly why you need to get out. Dinner. Drinks. Normal people shit. It’ll be good for you.
Normal…
The word settles strangely inside my chest, and before I give myself a chance to overthink it. Another message pops up.
Lex:
Sledge picked the place, he said it was lowkey and has good food.
My fingers still, contemplating what to respond. After a few seconds, I respond.
Me:
Who’s all going?
Bubbles appear and disappear… There's a pause this time. Long enough for me to notice, twisting my stomach into knots, just as my mind begins to spiral, a message comes through.
Lex:
Just us. Maybe some friends of his, from the gym.
I don’t ask which friends. I don’t ask about the exact location.
I don’t even ask myself why my pulse suddenly feels too loud in my ear.
I just let things be. Simply exist. No matter how scared I might be of trying new things, I go for it.
Because if I ask, it makes things real. And I've spent weeks learning to exist without bracing for my trauma to collide with me at every corner. Glancing at my reflection catching on the window, I’m content with what I see.
Sure, I’m tired, the bags beneath my eyes prove it, but there’s a spark in my eyes now.
I watch my lips curl into a crooked smile before looking down at my phone and replying.
Me:
Fine. One drink.
Her response is immediate.
Lex:
That’s my girl. I’ll be there in thirty.
Thirty minutes, my eyes go wide, but I don’t argue. I simply put the phone down and press my hand against my chest until my heartbeat evens out. I don’t know why I feel so restless, I don’t know why my mind is running with possible scenarios, but I shake them off…
This is just a night out.
Isaac
“You know, you should go home and sleep.”
I don’t look up right away, but by the sound of her voice, I know it’s the night nurse, Betty.
A woman old enough to be my mother, kind and outspoken.
Short in height and with a bob that reminds me of Edna from The Incredibles.
I keep my arms folded tight across my chest as I stand beside the incubator.
The little guy got upgraded, now that he learned to not only regulate his temperature but also his breathing.
Pride fills my chest at the strides he’s made since arriving in the world.
My eyes zone in on his small chest, watching as it steadily rises and falls.
The beeping sounds of the machine are white noise I’ve learned to live with.
“You ever decide on a name?” Betty casually asks while she checks something on the tablet in her hand.
I exhale loudly, not sure what to say. Or how to even answer it without feeling the need to explain myself.
My gaze remains on him, so small, swaddled up in his blue blanket.
The question feels bigger than it should, as if when I say it out loud, it steals something I’ve been holding my breath over for weeks.
Finally, after reflecting for a few seconds longer, I whisper, “I have.”
Little does she know she’s the first person I’ll have told this to. Betty looks up, her dark eyebrows lifting, beaming with excitement. I can already see the small smile forming on her thin lips. “You want to tell me, or am I finding out when he’s released from here?”
In so many ways, Betty reminded me of my mother. I think it's the sarcasm. Or maybe the warmth she brings into the room when she’s around. Exhaling through my nose, “Lucas.”
Betty nods once, like it makes sense. Like if she somehow knew it was always going to be that.
His name felt fitting for him. Even after I searched for hours for a name that would come close to what he means to my life.
I would always circle back to this one. I have to admit my conversations with her helped make my decision.
She has been with us every step of the way.
Even witnessed Priscilla’s goodbye to him.
“Lucas,” she repeats softly, snapping me out of my thoughts. “That’s a good name.”
My throat feels tight. It has nothing to do with his name, but the reason why I kept it.
Why I made the decision for him to keep the only piece of his mother he would ever know?
His name. “His mother picked it,” I add, still trying to find a reason to explain the reason behind it.
Maybe I’m judging myself for it, I don’t know…
Dragging my hand down my face, I continue to say, “It means light, and through all this, that is what he is, a beacon of light.”
Betty’s facial expression doesn’t change. If anything, it softens further. “Then that's his name. Doesn’t matter how it started. What matters is what it becomes.”
I smile at that, and my gaze drops back to him.
Watching the faint creases between his brows, the quiet fight is still in him even when he sleeps.
That boy is gonna be trouble, I know it.
I feel it in my bones. My Trouble. I suck in my bottom lip and nod.
“Now that we have his name figured out. How about you go home and rest?” she adds in.
I don’t hesitate as I shake my head, a clear no, before dragging my hand over my face again.
My body is exhausted. Even my mind, if that’s a thing.
My fingers brush over the rough stubble along my jaw.
My phone vibrates in my pocket at the same time.
I pull it out without thinking, thumb already unlocking the screen.
Betty moves beside me, continuing her charting.
“You know we will hate to keep him due to an exhausted father,” she says, unimpressed. “People need sleep, even parents.” I don’t reply because I’m too busy skimming over the message my lawyer just sent me while she reprimands me.
Priscilla signed over her parental rights. Also agreed to no contact.
Exhaling through my nose, my hands shake as it holds on to my phone.
My shoulders drop before I can stop them, and relief spreads through my body at the news.
Pressure builds behind my eyes. I can’t believe it.
It’s over. So many emotions rapidly fire inside of me, but I cling to one, and that's gratitude. One that fills me with hope and enthusiasm. I’m so thankful that she let him go, that she loved him enough to understand that he’s better off never knowing she existed.
That his beginning wasn’t in that basement but here in this room, where he fought for his place in this cruel and beautiful world.
Finally, I respond to Betty, “I'll go to sleep soon.”
She tuts softly. “You’ve been saying that for weeks.” Her voice isn’t unkind… it sounds like a mother who’s tired of her son's excuses. “Go home. Take a real shower. Sleep in a real bed. We don’t discharge newborns to zombies.”
That earns a tired huff of a laugh from me.
Yeah, she definitely reminds me of my mother.
I take one final glance at my phone. Rereading the message as if it might change if I don’t give it my full attention.
The words instantly settle the storm inside me, the clouds spread, allowing the sun to peek back in.
Fuck was it a relief not have to fight. It’s over…
Finally… I can breathe again.
“Go home, Isaac,” Betty says beside me.
“Tomorrow,” I reply quietly, more to myself than her. Betty shakes her head, leaving no room for argument. “No, you go. Go have a night out, get laid. Just live.”
My mouth falls open before snapping shut again.
Too stunned to speak. Get laid. Me. Out of all people.
That’s the last thing I have in mind. I couldn’t help the small chuckle that made it past my lips.
Maybe she’s right… Maybe I do need to live.
Finally, the pieces are falling into place.
There’s no need for me to be here. I return my focus to the open incubator that nestles my son.
He’s asleep, a tiny fist curled near his face, completely unaware of how close he is to coming home.
I tuck my phone back into my pocket, accepting defeat.
I do need to get some sleep. Without a word, I grab my jacket from the chair and force myself to walk away before I change my mind.
From behind me, I can hear her muttering something in approval, but I don’t stop to acknowledge it.
The hallways feel too bright when I step out of the dim hum of Lucas' room. My footsteps echo as I head for the elevators, body heavy with exhaustion now that I’m actually moving.
My phone buzzes again.
Pulling it back out, I stare at the message from my best friend.
Sledge:
Get out of the hospital and meet us for a drink. C’mon, old man, you deserve a fucking break.
I stare at the message longer than I should. Exhaling softly, I type back.
Me:
Fine. One.
And I mean it, I really could use some sleep. In a real bed. I miss the feeling of being in my own body. The elevator doors slide open, and I step inside, the hospital lights disappearing as the door closes. For the first time in weeks, there’s nothing pulling back.
Finally, I can live again.