23. Blake
CHAPTER 23
BLAKE
I woke late and muzzy, and reached out for Claire. I wanted to tell her about the dream I’d just had, her, me, and Oli camped out on a cloud. The cloud had been bouncy, like a trampoline.
“Claire?”
No answer. I opened my eyes. Her side of bed was rumpled and cold, her blouse gone from the chair where she’d tossed it last night. Her bra was still hanging over the lamp, but I guessed she’d forgotten it, or hadn’t seen it.
I sat up and stretched. Eight o’clock already. Claire must’ve slipped out and headed to work. I figured I’d better head out myself. I went to the closet and found some fresh sheets, and stripped the bed down and made it up good as new. When I searched for the hamper, I couldn’t find one, so I chucked the sheets straight in the wash. I went to text Claire to let her know where they were, but my phone wasn’t in my pants or on the nightstand.
“Where…” I did a slow spin, scanning around. Had I tossed it somewhere, along with my clothes? Or, no. We’d been headed to Thanksgiving dinner. I hadn’t wanted some text buzz interrupting our meal, so I’d left it behind, on the seat of my car.
I dressed quickly, then hurried to get it. I had a few texts and two new emails. The first mail was spam, and I flicked it away. The second was a message from the hospital — information on my fellowship. An application. A stern reminder I’d need to act fast. Well, that was no problem. I’d reach out today. But first, I needed to talk to Claire. If we were building a life, and it felt like we were, these types of decisions weren’t just mine.
MEET UP FOR LUNCH?
One checkmark popped up: my text was delivered. Then a second popped up to show it’d been read. But Claire didn’t answer, and I frowned, perplexed. She always sent back at least a thumbs-up.
IT’S IMPORTANT, I tried. I HAVE KIND OF BIG NEWS.
The checkmarks popped up, and then the dots. Then the dots disappeared and didn’t come back. Well, she was busy. She’d get back when she could. In the meantime— in the meantime…
My train of thought stuttered, and then it derailed. My contract from Munich, had it been moved? I checked the window to see if the wind might’ve done it, but it was shut tight, and so were the others. And the pages were face-down, not face-up like I’d left them. The wind hadn’t done that, so… had it been Claire? Had she seen, did she think?—
I grabbed for my phone. She still hadn’t answered. I tried one more time.
TALK TO ME. PLEASE?
Checkmarks. No answer. My stomach felt sour. It was happening again, just like back then: the first hint of trouble, and she was shutting me out. Surely she wouldn’t, not after last night. She’d as good as said she wanted a future. She wanted this, us. She’d said… hadn’t she?
I gripped my car door, weak in the knees. I was suddenly eight again, looking up at Miss Jenny.
“You can’t take me away. It’s a mistake.”
She’d flashed me that look I’d seen on a hundred tired faces, pity and frustration rolled into one. “Sweetheart, we?—”
“ No! Go get Mom!”
“I already talked to her. She’s sorry, but?—”
“No, no. She promised. ”
“We have to go.”
I’d known, I’d known my mom wouldn’t leave me. I’d have staked my life on it, and somehow she had. And Claire had done it before. Slammed the door in my face. I could have explained back then, and I could explain now, why I’d filled out those forms. Why I hadn’t mailed them. But she wouldn’t listen. She wouldn’t talk.
“Stupid,” I hissed. “Got your damn hopes up. Didn’t life teach you better than that?”
I kicked at the gravel. It bounced off my wheel. Claire couldn’t leave me, not now. We had Oli. If I could just talk to her, she’d understand.
I texted again, IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK. This time, only one checkmark popped up. I tried calling instead, but her voicemail picked up.
“Claire, listen, please—” I hung up the phone. I couldn’t plead with her voicemail. I had to see her this time. She had to look in my eyes and see I meant every word.
I sped all the way to the hospital and parked like an ape, then barged into emergency shouting her name. A few patients looked up, and the nurse on the desk. I stopped, feeling stupid, and tried to calm down. The nurse frowned at me.
“Sir?”
I breathed in and out. I couldn’t go charging her, scaring her half to death. I had to be calm, to explain from the top. Then she’d see she could trust me, and we would talk. I’d tell her about the fellowship. We’d plan our next steps.
“Sir? Can I help you?”
I coughed. “Yeah, I’m here to see, uh, Dr. Everett?”
“Sir, this is the ER. If you have an emergency?—”
“I’m not a patient. I’m… Could you page her?”
The nurse pursed her lips. “No, sir, I couldn’t.”
“But—”
“She’s very busy, and I don’t know who you are. If you’re a friend of hers, you can call her or text her. If you have an emergency, you can take a seat.”
“You can’t tell her I’m here, at least? I’m Oli’s father.” I cringed as it hit me how creepy I looked, barging in red-faced, demanding Claire’s attention. “Sorry,” I said. “I’ll do that. I’ll text.”
The nurse softened up some, now I’d backed off. “There’s a lounge down the west hall, if you need somewhere to wait.”
I thanked her, embarrassed, and headed that way. Claire hadn’t read my last text, but I pecked out another.
SORRY ABOUT MY LAST TEXTS. I KNOW YOU SAW THE CONTRACT IN MY FRONT SEAT, BUT I PROMISE, IT REALLY ISN’T WHAT YOU THINK. I’M HEADED FOR THE FAMILY LOUNGE DOWN THE WEST HALL, SO WHEN YOU GET THIS ? —
“Blake? Is that you?”
I spun around. “Claire! Oh, thank God.”
She took a step back from me. “What are you doing here?”
“I know you saw the contract, but it’s not what you think. I never sent it, so?—”
“You signed it, right?” Claire clenched her fists. “Actually, don’t answer that. I know you signed it, and I know when. You signed it the day you played baseball with Oli. The day you made him those sandwiches with the fancy shapes. Then Dad took him shopping and we went upstairs, and I did that thing you like, you know, with my?—”
“Claire!”
She made a harsh gesture, a chop with her hand. “Then you went home and signed up for another four years.”
“But I’m telling you, I didn’t.”
“Did you sign it, or not?”
I shook my head, helpless. “I did, but?—”
“I have to go.”
“No, wait just a minute. Five minutes. Please .”
Claire turned her back on me, but she didn’t leave. I could hear her breathing, rough with anger. What could I say, and she’d understand?
“I filled it out, yeah.” I swallowed hard. My throat was so tight it hurt when I did. “I filled out those forms, and I signed them. That’s true. But I hadn’t decided yet— I mean, I haven’t. Or, last night I had, and I still want?—”
“You still want what? ” Claire covered her face, then she let her hands drop. “You’re not making sense.”
“I know, but please listen. I could transfer back home. There’s this fellowship — I could be here for Oli. But I can’t stop thinking, I have family in Munich. Not actual family, but for once, I’ve got… I have a home there. People I… We’ve all been through hell together. I trust those guys with my life. I’ve never once had that, and now, I can’t…” I looked down at my feet. I was blowing this bad. “I needed to see how I’d feel going back. If it felt right when I filled out those forms. But I never sent them. I promise you that.”
Claire’s shoulders hitched. She let out a long breath. “So, what you’re telling me is, you had to think it over.”
“Exactly! That’s all. But I never?—”
“So you looked at your child and you looked at your job, and you thought you saw, what? A choice?” She spat the words at me like poison. I flinched. When she put it like that, what could I say?
“No, not a choice. I’d never walk out on Oli. But I didn’t know…”
“What?”
“I kept thinking, what if we didn’t work out? If you found someone else, and he wanted to adopt Oli, or if you got a job somewhere out of state. If I gave up what I’ve got, and I lost you both anyway.”
“So we weren’t worth taking the chance?”
“No! No, you were!”
“Why don’t I believe you?” Claire looked so sad I wanted to hug her, head down, slumped shoulders, back all hunched over. But when I started toward her, she jerked away. She crossed her arms and hugged herself tight. “I can’t understand how it’s even a question. I’d never leave Oli if I had the choice. You’re saying you have that choice, and you’re filling out forms.”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Maybe Claire was better off without me. The things she was saying, they made perfect sense. And me, I was blathering with my foot in my mouth, trying to explain what I couldn’t excuse. What kind of a father could I be to Oli? How could I love him, when I’d never been loved? What if I stayed and he grew up like me, with a wall ten feet high between him and the world?
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Are you staying or going?”
An hour ago, I’d have shouted out staying . Staying, no question. My choice was made. But what was wrong with me, thinking I had a choice? How broken was I, I couldn’t commit?
“Staying or going?”
“I… I don’t know.”
Claire sighed, straightened up. She smoothed out her scrubs. “Okay,” she said. “Think all you want. But I’ve wasted enough time waiting for you. You can keep seeing Oli while you’re on leave, and we’ll make up a schedule for you to talk after that. But other than that, I won’t hold my breath.”
Every cell in my body screamed at me, stop her , but I just stood and watched as Claire walked away. I couldn’t think what to say to her that wouldn’t be wrong.