16. Claire
CHAPTER 16
CLAIRE
I ran out of the hospital at five past midnight, texting Blake with one hand, chirping my car with the other. I’d forgotten to tell him to send me updates, and he hadn’t sent any since two p.m. They’d been blowing bubbles, then… nothing. Crickets. Visions danced through my head of Oli high on sugar, up past his bedtime and wired to explode. It’d been a while since his last screaming tantrum. He was due a meltdown, but?—
“Open, dammit.” I jiggled my car door and chirped it again. Only, the chirp came from two cars down. I’d been trying to break into Dr. Muller’s sedan, the same make and model and color as mine. Only, hers had file boxes all over the seats. It had dice on the mirror and a DOG ON BOARD decal. I smacked myself on the forehead and hurried to my own car. Blake still hadn’t texted, and why would that be? I’d missed texts before because Oli was screaming. Or, what if he’d somehow destroyed Blake’s phone? He’d tried to give mine a bath one time. He’d dropped it down the stairs. Maybe he’d burned the house down with Blake’s phone inside.
I took a deep breath to calm myself, but it didn’t much help. Had Blake even babysat once in his life? What did he know about kids Oli’s age? I should’ve checked in, myself. I was a terrible mother.
I pulled into Blake’s driveway in ten minutes flat, dry-mouthed, heart pounding, palms sweaty on the wheel. The house was dark, quiet. Too quiet? I swallowed. I couldn’t hear screaming. That had to be good. But Blake hadn’t texted, so something was wrong.
I raced up the drive, fist poised to knock, but before I could, the door cracked open. Blake poked his head out.
“Quiet. He’s sleeping.”
“Sleeping?” I blinked. “But I thought… I thought?—”
“I have to be honest: I missed his bedtime. I said he could read me his favorite book, but it was longer than I thought it’d be, more words than pictures. I didn’t get him down till, oh, eight, eight-thirty.”
“So he’s sleeping? He’s fine?”
Blake grinned. “He’s great. We had fun, as you see.” He gestured behind him, at the wreck of his kitchen. “Let’s see, we blew bubbles — I sent you some pics. Then we played tag, then I gave him some horsey rides, then he had his nap. We had lasagna for dinner, then we baked a cake, then Oli had his bathtime, and I mentioned the book.”
“You let Oli bake?”
“I let him measure the ingredients. We made carrot cake, so it wasn’t too sweet. But we did spill some flour, and some sugar. And raisins.”
I laughed, too shrill, weak with relief. Oli’d tricked Blake into staying up late, but as screwups went, I’d pictured much worse. I’d been guilty of worse, if I was honest.
“I texted,” I said. “Why didn’t you answer?”
Blake patted his pockets, suddenly stricken. He pulled out his phone and slapped his forehead. “I put it on silent so it wouldn’t wake Oli. But I should’ve known you’d try to text.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “But, pro tip on Oli: once he’s asleep, that’s it. He’s down. You could set off a bomb and he wouldn’t wake up, at least not until he’s good and ready.”
“Note taken,” said Blake. “And speaking of beauty sleep, I was thinking, why wake him? You could both stay the night. You could take my bedroom. Then, you could take Oli home in the morning.”
I shook my head no, but I couldn’t think why not. Oli was sleeping, and I was free all morning. I’d have plenty of time to drive him home before work. He’d love having breakfast with his mom and his dad. That was, if Blake even had breakfast stuff.
“He’ll need cereal,” I said. “Without too much sugar.”
“I have Wheat-Os,” said Blake.
“Then… okay. Okay. That would be great.” I set my bag down. “You need help cleaning up?”
“No, it’s okay. It’s not as bad as it looks. Why don’t you sit and I’ll get you some cake?”
I had to admit, cake sounded good. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, apart from a candy bar, a quick shot of energy choked down mid-shift. Now I was crashing, all shaky and tired. I plopped down at Blake’s table like a sack of cement.
“Why, uh…” I gestured at Blake’s kitchen floor. It was covered in boxes all stacked up in piles, each with a straw on top, with a coupon taped to it.
Blake shrugged, sheepish. “We built us some castles. See, they’ve got flags.”
“The kingdom of green grapes, twenty cents off.”
“You mocking the glorious kingdom of Boxton?” Blake got out the cake and wove through the boxes. He cut me a slice, then poured some milk to go with it. “Tell you what, you eat that while I clear up these boxes. Then I’ll show you where your room is, or the shower if you want.”
I dug into my carrot cake and let out a moan — fluffy, delicious, just the right amount of sweet. Blake set about tidying Oli’s kingdom away. He’d let Oli empty out his entire pantry, everything that came in a tin or a box. Everything you could stack up, Oli had stacked. I could see Blake was tired as he rounded up soup cans, catching a yawn in one hand, stocking shelves with the other. He caught me watching and smiled.
“I forgot to ask you, how was your day?”
I sipped my milk. “Busy. We had this whole family, this drowsy driver, drove his SUV into his neighbor’s garage.”
Blake looked confused. “And the neighbor got mad?”
“I’d assume he did when he got home. When he found the huge hole in his garage.”
“Oh, he drove into it, as in, he crashed. I thought you meant he just parked there, y’know, by mistake.”
“No. His wife said he drifted off-road, over the curb and over two lawns, and into the side of his neighbor’s garage. She was screaming wake up , and he kind of did, but not fast enough he could stop himself crashing. Dr. Muller says drowsy drivers are as bad as drunk drivers. You don’t hear much about them outside the ER, but they’re out there. They’re snoozing. They’re hitting your house.”
“You think that’s bad, we had this guy my first year — this resident, what was his name?” Blake paused, can in hand, brow furrowed in thought. “Hobart or Hubert, something like that. Anyway, he flamed out, but before he did, he fell asleep in the middle of a bone graft.”
I spluttered laughter. “He what? ”
“He drooled into the patient, right through his mask. At least, that’s what Reynolds said. He saw the whole thing.”
“He fell asleep in surgery? How would you even…”
“I guess he was standing there waiting to close, and he dozed off right on his feet. A week later, he was out of there. Psych discharge, I think.”
“Muller made me lie down one time because she caught me yawning. She says tired doctors miss things, but that’s just, that’s…” I groped for the word, but I was too tired to find it. “I mean, I’m not even a surgeon, but I always get this… this hit of adrenaline when I’m with a patient. Even if it’s only a kid with a cold, or my tenth twisted ankle since I started my shift. I can’t even imagine falling asleep.”
“Showtime,” said Blake. “That’s what I call that. That rush when you go in, and a life’s in your hands.”
I took another bite of cake and washed it down with more milk. “It was the same thing with Oli, when he was first born. I could be dead asleep and I’d hear him cry, and this switch would flip and I’d be wide awake — is that his hungry cry? Is he scared? Is he sick? Then he’d go back to sleep and I’d crash as well.”
Blake set the last box back in his place. He frowned down at me. “You’re shivering. You cold?”
“A little,” I said. “I think from the milk.”
“Hold on one sec.” Blake went through to the den and came back with a blanket. He draped it over my shoulders and took a seat next to mine.
“Listen, I wanted to say to you, today was great. Oli was awesome, but…” He trailed off, and a sick chill walked down my spine. This was the part when the other shoe dropped. The part where Blake upped and broke Oli’s heart. Oli was awesome, but I can’t take this on. I have my own life. Oli’s too much. The cake I’d eaten sat heavy in my gut. One more word from Blake, and I thought I’d throw up.
“I had no idea,” he said, and my stomach flipped over. Red rage rose up, and a wave of despair. What would I tell Oli? How could I spin this? How could I make Blake’s abandonment okay?
Blake took my hand. I couldn’t move. I stared at him numbly, wanting to scream. How had I let this happen again? I almost wished Oli had burned his house down, or Blake had yelled at him, or he’d been a jerk. Then, at least Oli’d be glad he was gone. Instead, he’d have this great day to look back on, bubbles and castles and horsey rides. Shit.
“I thought a kid was like, you know, you get them some toys. They play with their toys. You do something else. I had no idea what you do every day, everything you go through, and then you’ve got work.” Blake held my hand in both of his. “Don’t get me wrong. Today was amazing. I’d do it every day if I had the chance. But I put him to bed, and all I could think was, what if I had a shift right now? Or first thing tomorrow? If I had to get up and feed him breakfast, then keep him amused till I left for work? Then I’d get home and he’d need his bath and his story, and my question for you is, when do you sleep?”
“When do I… what?” Was this a kiss-off speech, or was it something else? Blake was still smiling, warm and sweet. The look in his eyes was wistful, half-sad. I felt sad as well, and overwhelmingly lonely. I had been alone so very long now, my days given over to work and to Oli. I barely even saw Joelle anymore, except when we’d meet up before work for coffee.
Blake squeezed my hand tighter. “When do you sleep?”
“When Oli sleeps.” The words came out clipped. “I go to bed early, seven or eight. Unless I work nights. Then I sleep through his nap time. And Mom and Dad help a lot, so we’re okay.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Blake. “I wish I’d been here. I got the smallest of tastes today of how your life must’ve been — and this was an easy day, no tears, no scraped knees. No tantrums, no tummy bugs, nothing but smiles. We had the best day, and I am wiped.”
I couldn’t take this, not knowing where he was headed. Not one more second. I pulled my hand free. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I want to be now, for whatever you need. I know money’s not — you’re okay on money — but child support is for Oli, and I want him to have it. And I want to be here for him, to be in his life. To be in yours too. To make your lives easier. Whatever you need, you just have to ask.”
The strangest feeling washed over me, joy mixed with dread. I just had to ask? Could I ask him to stay? Could I say Oli needs you back here in the States , and he’d talk to the Army, and they’d send him home? I shivered again, though the blanket was warm. Blake in our lives, how would that even look? Would he want to split custody? Or would we try again? It would be so easy to reach for his hand and tell him come home , and lean in and kiss him. To fall back into him and back into us, and forget all my loneliness, all my anger and hurt. But he had hurt me once. He could do it again. He’d broken my heart like no man ever had, and somehow, I’d taped all the shards back together. I couldn’t do that again. No way. I just couldn’t.
“He loves—” My voice broke. I swallowed hard. “Oli loves spending time with you. You did well today. Those giant bubbles… Did he tell you about Buster?”
“About him drinking your bubble mix?” Blake laughed. “Yeah, he did.”
“That was months ago now. A lifetime in kid years. I meant to make it up to him, but it just slipped my mind.”
Blake smiled. “You’re busy. I’m on vacation. I have time to blow bubbles, so don’t beat yourself up.” He took my hand again, and my eyes swam with tears. This was why I’d loved him, how gentle he was. How calm and patient, how understanding. Oli needed a man like him, needed Blake in his life.
“You can watch him again,” I said. “Whenever you’re free.”
“Any day. Every day. As long as I’m here.”
Then, don’t go, I thought.
“Thank you,” I said.
“I should be thanking you for letting me try.”
Then let’s try, the two of us. Let’s make it work.
“You’re his father,” I said. “I should get to bed.”
Blake frowned, then he stood. “It’s just down the hall. I put on fresh sheets for you, and extra blankets.”
I headed off down the hall, half-praying he’d stop me, chase me and catch me and hold me to his chest, and say all the things I longed to and couldn’t. But Blake stayed where he was and I shut the door behind me, and stood and stared at the moonlight on the fresh sheets. He’d tucked them in Army-tight, because of course he had. Because that was his life, not me or Oli. I’d be smart to remember that, except, maybe…
Would he come home to us? If I dared ask?