19. Blake
CHAPTER 19
BLAKE
I hung up the phone in a state of half-shock: just weeks from now, this could be my life. This could be my house, my patch of backyard. My bedroom. My kitchen. My tree-lined street. A whole new life, but how would it look?
I’d called my CO a few weeks back to feel out my options, just a day or two after our aquarium trip. Today, he’d called back.
“Well, you’re in luck.”
“I am?” My stomach did a backflip.
“Yeah. There’s a fellowship right there in Memphis, a pretty prestigious one, in trauma medicine. You’d be involved in some research, important stuff. The effects of early supportive care on long-term outcomes. I told ’em about you, and they want to meet. But it’d need to be right away, soon as you can. Their first choice dropped out, so they’re in a rush.”
I swallowed. “Right away? As in…?”
“As in toot sweet. You need to un-ass yourself and give ’em a call.”
I licked my lips. This was happening too fast. I had no idea what my life would be here, if Claire would want this, or if she’d push me away. I could uproot my whole life and she could throw up her walls, and I’d be lucky to see Oli on the weekends. We’d end up in court, and?—
“You hear me? Toot sweet. For my sake, as well. I’ll need to replace if you if you head back stateside, so the sooner I know, the less headache for me.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “Soon as I can.”
I hung up and stood staring out at the yard. Oli could play there if this was my home. I could put up a swing set, or we’d blow more bubbles. Or I could teach him to hit a baseball. We could sit at that picnic table when he got older, doing homework together, or just hanging out.
I turned away from the window, shaking my head. That might be my life if I moved back stateside, but just as easily, it might not. Claire hadn’t said anything about our lives past my leave. What was I to her, this time around? I’d been looking at this as our big second chance, but maybe to her, I was a fling, and free childcare. Maybe she didn’t trust me much beyond that.
What if I moved home and we didn’t work out? If she met someone else, and he took my place? I might still get Oli on the weekends or birthdays, but he’d call another man Dad. That man would raise him. That man would take him on his first fishing trip, that jerk. That asshole.
I took a deep, shaky breath. That could happen. It could. I could give up the life I’d built — a good life, good friends — and come back here, and have it all fall apart. I could end up sidelined, but maybe I wouldn’t. And if I did, at least I’d be close. At least I’d be here, if Oli needed.
I was deep in my grappling when the doorbell went off. So deep I jumped and slammed my elbow on the counter. I yelled half a word a kid shouldn’t hear, then it occurred to me, what if it’s Oli? I ended up screaming shoe leather at the top of my lungs, and running to get the door still rubbing my elbow. Sure enough, it was Oli, holding Claire’s hand.
“We were just at the park,” she said. “Hope it’s not a bad time?”
I grinned. “Not at all. Come on in.”
Oli squeezed past me and ran down the hall, out through the kitchen into the backyard. He had a little football, the soft kid-sized kind, and he tossed it back through the door. It bounced off the table and into the trash.
“Sorry,” said Claire. “Oli, not in the house.”
“I’m not in the house. See? I’m outside!” Oli held out his arms to encompass the outdoors. Claire fished his football out of the trash.
“This stays outside too.” She tossed it back out the door. “He got it at daycare, a present from Mike. A thank-you for Playland. He couldn’t have sent a nice card?”
Oli tossed the ball again. It bounced off the window.
“Oli! Be careful.”
“It’s just foam, right?” I smiled. “I think my windows can take it.”
Claire leaned on the counter and let out a sigh. “It’s not a bad time, is it? We can go if it is. It’s just, he remembered you’re staying around here, and he had his new toy, and?—”
“Dad! Dad, come see!”
“It’s a great time,” I said. “On my way, Oli.”
I headed out to the yard, Claire right behind me. Oli yelled out go long and wound up to throw, but he fumbled the ball and dropped it and it rolled away. He chased it and grabbed for it, and it kept rolling.
“Watch out for the— Oops.”
Oli hit the fence running, and he bounced off. The ball dropped in the garden patch and he pulled it out muddy. He threw it straight at me, too quick to dodge. I caught it instead. Mud splashed my shirt.
“Sorry,” said Claire.
“Nah, it’s okay. Just a bit of dirt, right?”
She handed me a tissue and I wiped off the ball. I tossed Oli an easy one, and he caught it. He ran down the yard and crashed into the fence again, and slammed the ball down in the damp grass.
“Touchdown,” he screamed.
“Yeah, MVP!”
“Don’t encourage him,” said Claire, but she was smiling. She caught the ball when he tossed it back, and passed it to me, and I passed to Oli. He ran in circles around us and tackled my leg. I chased him around, threatening to tackle back.
“Gonna get you!”
Oli giggled. “Too slow!”
I chased him in circles till he tripped over his feet, then I scooped him up and spun him around. He shrieked and squealed. A window slammed shut next door. I felt bad for a moment, for all the noise — then I remembered, you’re only three once. I spun Oli breathless and set him down, and laughed as he staggered around with his ball.
“I’m dizzy, Dad.”
“Yeah, so am I.”
Claire nudged my arm. “You got fruit in your kitchen?”
“In my fridge. Why?”
“I’m going to slice some for Oli, for his snack. You kids can both have some, when you’re done playing.”
I tossed the ball with Oli for a while more, till I figured my neighbors had suffered enough. Then we headed inside for apples and juice, and Oli ate his and conked out on the couch. Claire stretched out next to him and closed her eyes. I touched her arm.
“Tired?”
“I always nap when he does.”
I sat down as well, in the big La-Z-Boy, and kicked up my feet. I closed my eyes and pretended this was my life, a routine I knew like the back of my hand. I worked ten minutes from here, twenty in traffic. I’d just picked up Oli from his pre-K. I had him, just the two of us, all afternoon, then Claire would come and we’d eat together. We’d give Oli his bath and read him his story, and then we would crash out and dissect our days — if Claire got “the face” from Dr. Muller. If I got the equivalent from whoever I worked for. How Oli had been. If he’d gone down for his nap. Small, everyday things, details of our life.
“Don’t fall asleep,” said Claire. “You have to wake us up.”
I grunted I wouldn’t, but set my phone alarm in case. I could get used to this, predictable hours. Coming home to my family. To Oli and Claire. I’d be right here when Oli got a sniffle, or when Claire was exhausted from residents’ hours. We made sense, the three of us. But what if Claire?—
“Blake?”
I cracked an eye open. “Mm?”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you, want to come for Thanksgiving? Dad said your maple pecan pie would be welcome.”
I laughed. “Just my pie?”
“It is a good pie.”
Oli grumbled in his sleep and Claire stroked his hair.
“Joking aside, we’d love if you came. It’ll be Oli’s first real family Thanksgiving.”
I sat up. “His first? What happened to the other two?”
“He slept through his first one, and last year, our oven died. It went up in smoke halfway through the turkey, and the kitchen caught fire, and it was awful. The firefighters came. Dinner was ruined. We ended up eating takeout turkey salad.” Claire pulled a face. “So, this’ll be Oli’s first. What do you say?”
I couldn’t help but think back to our own first Thanksgiving, our first proper date. Our first night together. There’d been this one moment halfway through dessert, Buster had come nosing, wanting ice cream. He couldn’t have any, and he’d looked so sad, and Claire had got up and fetched him a treat. I don’t know what it was about that exact moment, but it’d hit me right then, hey, she’s the one . I’d wanted it all with her, the good life. The family. A family — our family — to last a lifetime.
“I uh…” I swallowed. “Yeah. Count me in.”
Maybe this was a sign, not from fate, but from Claire. She’d invited me once to her house for Thanksgiving, and that had been how we got our start.
Maybe this was her offering me a fresh start.
“Claire?”
“Yeah?”
I didn’t know how to ask her, is this our take two? So I just smiled and said “Count my pie in too.”