Chapter 12
Cameron
“Ihave to go,” Riley says as she opens the door to her car. “I need to take him to the hospital.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, following her.
“Yes. He’s been off lately and I’ve kept an eye on him but it’s been getting worse and I need to not question it. He needs to go in.”
“Hang on,” I tell her, my hands on the top edge of her door as I look down at her. “Let me come with you.”
“To the hospital?” she asks.
“To your house. Let me check him out. That’s what you’d be paying for at the clinic right? A doctor to look at him. Let’s leave him in the comfort of his own bed and I’ll take a look.”
Riley is in Mama bear mode and doesn’t question me.
She texts me her address and I follow her home.
Meanwhile, my brain is racing, and not just because I am in doctor mode now.
I took her out on a date because I knew we had to start somewhere.
And if we are going to do this…really legally do this…
it has to look authentic. There has to be chemistry there.
The problem is…how much chemistry? Because watching her sip her wine in that maroon dress, her hair half up and half down, laughing at my jokes and even letting her guard down a little…
it was like she was an entirely different person.
There’s no denying it. I asked her out because we have eyes on us.
Not just around the hospital but James and Josh and people who are going to be very suspicious.
I also asked her out for the practice. I haven’t been on a date since my divorce and god knows I’m a little rusty.
And third…I wanted to. Despite her being about as friendly as a wolverine, I really just fucking wanted to.
We roll up to her townhouse around the same time but Riley is out of the car, bolting up the driveway in her black high heels before I even kill my engine.
She leaves the door open and by the time I walk in, she’s already firing off a thousand questions.
Brianna is answering them just as fast, as if this is something they’ve done before. As if it’s normal.
I hate that for them.
“We were playing Uno earlier and he started to lose interest. Nothing odd. So we turned on a movie and he got really tired. He even took a little power nap before dinner. But he didn’t want anything to eat, even though he had asked for Kraft Mac and Cheese.
He pushed it around on his plate and then wouldn’t touch it.
But I knew something was off when he refused ice cream after. And then boom. A fever.”
Riley is bent over the couch where Noah is laying, half awake and very much lethargic.
“Let’s get you home, bubba,” she says, scooping him up.
I follow as we make our way to the house next door.
As she walks, I can hear her breathing heavily, and not from the weight of carrying him.
Noah probably only weighs forty pounds, if that.
“He’s hot, Cameron,” she says, trying to control the emotion in her voice. “He’s really hot.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her as she sets him in bed. “Let’s just take a look.”
“Do I have to go to the hospital?” he asks.
“Well, if you were at the hospital it would be to see a doctor. So since I’m here, maybe we can avoid that. How does that sound?” I ask.
“My bed is comfier,” he murmurs.
“I bet so,” I say. I brought in a bag that I keep in my car and I’m checking all his vitals.
“Well?” Riley asks, pacing the carpet in front of the bed.
“He’s warm but honestly, I don’t think we need to go in. Let’s give him some Tylenol and see how that does for now.”
Riley nods and goes to the kitchen. Then she comes back with the medicine, some crackers and a cup of chocolate milk.
Noah takes it like a champ and I have to smile.
All these kids…these kids who are sick and have always been sick and might always be sick…
they’re always the strongest fighters. Little troopers.
It’s both heart warming and devastating.
“I’m going to go change,” Riley says as she undoes the straps on her heels.
“Sounds good, I’ll stay right here.”
After she walks out, I turn my attention back to Noah who is staring up at me in the glow of his submarine shaped table lamp.
“Have you ever heard of a book called Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea?” I ask.
“No. What’s it about?” he asks.
“A submarine, kind of like your lamp. It goes way, way under the ocean. And there’s a giant squid.”
“Cool!” he grins and I smile too. “I like the water. Just not the water in my lungs.”
“I can agree with that, buddy,” I say.
After a minute, he tilts his head to the side a little. “Did you and my mom go on a date?” he asks.
My stomach swoops. I don’t know what Riley has told him or what I should say. But I don’t have it in me to lie.
“I did.”
“Was it fancy?” he asks.
“I think so,” I answer. I learned a long time ago, being around kids all the time, that when kids ask you big questions, only answer the question they ask. Don’t over complicate it.
“Good. She deserves that. She never does fancy things for herself.”
“Really?” I ask, though I’m not surprised.
“Yeah. She doesn’t even buy perfume. She just takes the free samples at the mall.
I chuckle at that. Throw pillows and perfume. Noted.
“What are you two talking about?” Riley asks, reappearing in a pair of leggings and a black cardigan.
“I want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” Noah says, sitting up.
Riley looks at him, then at me, then back at him.
“You’re hungry?” she asks.
“That’s a good sign,” I say and for the first time in the last hour, she smiles a little.
After scarfing down a PB&J that is more J than P, Noah wants to watch Octonauts. We get to the end of three episodes and I yawn. “Well, I can honestly say I know more about the Mariana Trench than I ever thought I would,” I joke, but when I look over at Riley I realize she’s out.
“I think your mama fell asleep,” I whisper to Noah.
“Yeah, she’s tired. She’s always tired.”
“Yeah I bet,” I say, getting up off the couch, careful not to move her.
She is laying on her side, her hand over the edge because she was stroking Noah’s head as he laid in a pile of blankets on the floor in front of us.
I grab one of the blankets and drape it over her before taking Noah into his room.
“Are you staying the night?” he asks as I help him back into bed. His eyes are sleepy but his fever has dropped, a good sign at any rate.
I thought about leaving. But I am also worried about Noah’s fever making a comeback. With Riley passed out on the couch, I’d rather she just slept.
“I think I might,” I tell him.
“So you can sit with me for a while?” he asks, his sad little eyes as bright as he can manage.
“Absolutely,” I answer taking a seat on the floor, my back against the bed. I roll my head back, looking up at the ceiling that’s covered in little plastic stars. “Those are cool, I tell him. Like your own galaxy in here.”
“Yeah. And watch!” Noah turns off the lamp and the room goes black, but the ceiling comes to life.
“They glow in the dark too?” I ask.
“Yeah! Like real stars,” he says, nestling back down. Then, after a moment of us both staring at his bedroom sky, Noah asks, “Cameron?”
“Yeah buddy?”
“Do you like my mom?”
The question feels loaded. But I choose not to overcomplicate it. I just laugh a little, thinking about how salty she is. “I do. She’s nice.”
Noah snorts. “You haven’t seen her before she has coffee…”
I laugh at that. No…but I have seen her when she can’t get her kid the medicine he needs.
“What do you like?” I ask. “Besides stars and boats.”
“Hmm…” Noah ponders a minute before answering. “I like arcades.”
I stop. I don’t know why it snags my breath in my throat. He’s a kid. All kids like arcades. “Really?” I force a normal tone. “What do you like best?”
“Pinball.”
Is this kid for real? I didn't tell Riley but that’s my actual guilty pleasure. “That’s so funny. I love pinball too.”
“Really?!” he asks, rolling on his side so his face is near mine.
“Really.”
“I like the Godzilla machine the best. Or the Jaws one! The shark tries to eat the ball!”
“I like the King Kong one,” I tell him.
“The one that looks like an old fashioned comic book?” he asks.
“That’s the one.”
“My mom won’t let me play that one. She says the lady on the picture needs to put away her boobs.”
I laugh again and he does too. There’s a moment of silence and before long, Noah’s breath slows to a sleeping rhythm.
For a while, I just lean my head back on his bed, staring at the stars.
It hurts. It hurts to watch her struggle.
To see the pain of a mother trying to take on the world.
It hurts to see him sick. To know as a doctor just how big of a beast CF really is.
It also hurts to think that they are doing it alone.
That somewhere out there is a man who is the father of this child and he hasn’t come looking for them.
It hurts because if it were me, if I had a son or a daughter walking around out there somewhere, I’d stop at nothing to be their dad.
But like Noah’s lungs…that part of me is just broken.