Chapter 4
DENNY
My eyes burn as I stare into the empty room where Sally had been. I was just here three hours ago. Three. She was smiling and feeding Tyler. We laughed. We made plans about when I’d be here later this afternoon to take her home.
Three hours.
I’d barely pulled into my driveway when I received the call that she’d died from complications in childbirth. Admittedly, at the time I received the call, I was so shocked that I’d barely heard anything else after that. All I heard was that Sally was gone, and I needed to come back for my son.
When I got here, I argued that it didn’t make sense. She’d given birth early yesterday morning. I’d seen her since then. More than once. We’ve talked. I touched her—she was real. She laughed. She was fine!
Apparently, complications due to childbirth can happen even weeks after the event.
I stare into the room, hands shaking slightly as I try to catch my breath. There’s a war of emotion in my chest as I try not to panic. This isn’t what I meant! I internally scream into the universe. When I said I wanted out, I didn’t mean I wanted her to die.
The room is silent. Sterile. Empty. As if she had never been there. Yet, the last memory I have of her lingers on the bed. Her smile. Tyler in her arms.
Barely controlled panic simmers in my chest. What am I going to do now? I don’t know what to do. How am I going to raise a kid? I don’t know the first thing about this.
“Mr. Willow?”
I jerk at the voice and turn. The nurse with whom I’d been working with to get Tyler’s discharge paperwork finished is standing in front of me with two large bags. She gives me a sympathetic smile.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Willow. Do you need anything? Is there someone we should call?”
I shake my head. I can’t even put into words what I need. There’s no way I can articulate the fear, dread, panic, and sorrow that’s threatening to overtake me.
“No,” I murmur and look down at Tyler buckled into his carrier. I didn’t even know how to put him into it. The nurse did that.
“This bag has donated breast milk from the freezers. There are instructions about how to prepare and store it inside. Very clear instructions. I made a few notes.”
I incline my head. “Thank you.”
She smiles. “This one has some extra diapers and wipes. There are a few extra blankets. A few infant care items that I thought you might need in the first few days before you can gather everything you need.”
I don’t remember her name, and her badge is turned around. I don’t want to ask again because I’ve already asked three times. Might be Lily. Lora. Landry. Lisa? I’m at least marginally certain it begins with an L.
When I arrived, I didn’t stop at the nurse’s station.
I went straight to Sally’s room. It had to be a joke.
A very poor joke. As I neared the door, there was a team of people just leaving.
They hadn’t been there moving Sally out.
They were there cleaning up the room as if no one had ever been there.
Sally and Tyler’s names were erased from the whiteboard. The names of the doctors and nurses, their vitals—it was all gone. All washed away. Erasing her existence.
This kind nurse found me, and I may have confessed that I had nothing. She hadn’t moved into my house yet. I had nothing for Tyler.
She took pity on me, hence the bags.
The last two hours have been a blur. I’m not sure what happened.
The only times I was truly able to force myself from my impending panic were when the nurse was helping me through some care instructions.
She showed me how to change Tyler. How to feed him.
How to wash him, wrap him in a blanket, and hold him.
She taught me how to securely buckle him into his car seat.
Everything other than basic newborn care went straight through me. I didn’t retain anything as I fought the tears.
On top of the internal panic of suddenly being thrust into single parenthood with a thirty-eight-hour-old newborn, guilt began to stack on my shoulders as everyone interpreted my frame of mind as mourning the sudden death of my fiancée.
To be clear, I will mourn Sally. She was a good person. In the very little time I’d seen it, she was a good mother. She was a wonderful, beautiful woman. I’ll miss her.
But selfishly, right now, the most prominent feeling inside me is fear and panic.
“I’ll help you down to your car, Mr. Willow,” the nurse tells me.
I take a deep breath and incline my head in thanks.
I have the backpack that serves as Tyler’s travel bag Sally had brought to the hospital on my shoulders.
I’d already brought down the small suitcase of Sally’s things and the base for Tyler’s baby carrier.
There were clear instructions on it, but I’m not at all confident it’s installed correctly.
Taking Tyler’s carrier in my hand, I follow the nurse to the elevator. The further we get from the maternity ward, the more difficult it is to take a breath. Maybe I need to call Ren. Maybe I shouldn’t drive home.
We get downstairs, and the kind nurse loads the bags into the trunk of my SUV.
“Can you check the base?” I ask. “I’m not sure I did it correctly.”
She smiles. “Of course.”
I watch her tug on the straps, and she backs out. “They were fine. You did it perfectly. Here. Let me show you how to buckle the carrier in and release it. You have an easy one with this giant red handle here.”
With something to focus on, I feel a little less out of control. But as soon as she’s finished—which takes all of ninety seconds—the panic immediately closes in around me.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Mr. Willow?” she asks.
I let the backpack fall from my shoulders as she gently pulls it from me and sets it on the floor below Tyler. Fuck. I think I’m not okay.
“I just… maybe I need to call someone.” I look at Tyler. “Maybe I shouldn’t drive him home yet.”
“How about we pull you over here so you’re not blocking the entrance. Then you can make a call.”
I nod. “Yes. Okay.”
I get behind the wheel and very fucking slowly move to where she indicates. The nurse follows me and is there when I open the door and jump out. I crouch down in my open door and close my eyes. Fuck. This is not going to be good. Nothing about this is going to be good.
Her hand rubs my back gently. “Do you want to come back inside?”
“No. I’m sorry. I just… I’ll make a call and someone will come drive us home.”
She crouches in front of me, continuing to rub my back. Not going to lie, I appreciate the soothing gesture right now. That little bit of comfort is going a long way to ground me, even if I still feel like the ground beneath my feet is dropping away. My hands shake as I try to find Ren’s number.
The phone rings and rings before going to voicemail. Fuck. I let the call end and press my phone to my forehead, squeezing my eyes shut. Kroy. Okay, let me try Kroy.
He answers right away. “Hey, man.”
“I need your help. Please. If you’re not busy.”
“You okay? What’s up?”
“Can you come pick me up from the hospital?”
“Shit. What happened?”
“I—Sally died and… I… I can’t drive us home.”
Kroy is silent for a split second. “Yes. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Hang tight, Denny.”
I take a deep breath and nod. “Thanks.”
“Sure. You okay? What do you need?”
“Just a ride.”
“On it.”
I let the line die and close my eyes. “A friend is coming,” I tell the nurse.
“I’ll stay with you until they get here,” she says quietly, her hand continuing to rub gentle circles on my upper back.
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
It’s almost exactly ten minutes when I hear Kroy calling my name. When I look up, I nearly break into tears because finally, a familiar face with whom I feel safe. Who knows the hell that’s storming inside me without me having to say it.
I get to my feet, and Kroy hugs me tightly. He doesn’t say anything as I fight to catch my breath. The nurse opens the back door to check on Tyler. She remains with us until I think I have enough control of myself to take a step back.
“Can you drive my car?” I ask.
“Yeah. Where should I park mine?” Kroy asks, looking at the nurse.
“I’ll grab you a pass for the short-term parking if you want to wait a minute,” she offers.
“Please.”
She gently squeezes my wrist before taking her leave. Once she’s gone, I ask, “Can you find out her name? I’ve asked too many times, and I feel stupid for not remembering.”
“I will.” He touches my cheek, and I look up to meet his eyes. “What happened to Sally?”
“This is going to sound so fucking self-absorbed, but I don’t really know. They told me. I’m sure they told me. But the panic that came with that announcement has been louder than literally anything else,” I confide.
Kroy grips the back of my head affectionately. “It’ll be okay, man.”
Will it? I have a whole laundry list of doubts concerning his words.
The nurse returns and offers Kroy a hanging placard. “Just up there,” she says, pointing.
“Thank you,” Kroy says. “This your name—Frankie? Is that what the signature says?”
She shakes her head, smiling. “No. That’s one of our security team. I’m April.”
Kroy gives her a charming smile. “Thank you for taking care of my bestie, April. I’ll be right back.”
April smiles. I watch Kroy leave. The further he gets, the less sure the ground feels. Okay, I need familiarity right now. That’s what’s wrong.
“Mr. Willow?”
I look at April. She hands me a folded piece of paper. “Please don’t view this as a come-on. I’d like to offer you my number if you have any questions regarding Tyler’s care.”
I laugh a little and accept her folded paper. “Thank you. You may regret giving this to me.”
“I won’t,” she promises. “I have a feeling that you’ll only use it when you’re incredibly stressed and ready to break, so I encourage you to call before you reach that point.
You’re dealing with a lot more than just bringing a newborn home right now, and I can only imagine how harrowing this must feel. ”
“Like a pit just opened in front of me and I’m precariously balancing on the edge,” I mutter, glancing at Tyler asleep in his carrier.
“Remember: when he cries, check his diaper and then try a feeding. He should be eating one or so ounces every few hours.”
“If neither of those makes him stop crying?”
“He may have air bubbles. Burp him like I showed you. Rock him. I don’t mean for this to place more pressure on you, but he’s going to feel your stress, Mr. Willow.”
“Like a dog.”
She gives me an amused look, and I flinch.
Ugh. “Sorry. I swear, I’m not comparing him to a dog.”
April laughs. “It’s okay.”
Kroy comes jogging across the parking lot toward us. I’m relieved to see him approach again. He claps my shoulder and urges me to the passenger side.
I thank April and hope she hears how much I appreciate her kindness. It’s not long before Kroy joins me and we’re pulling out of the parking lot.
“Thanks for driving me home,” I say. “I just—I couldn’t—”
Kroy grips my arm for a minute. “No worries, Denny. I’m glad you called.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“You look like you were run over by the Zamboni.” Kroy flashes me a grin.
“I feel like it.” I shift to look back at Tyler, but I can’t see him with his carrier facing backwards. “How is it safe that I can’t see him right now?”
“It’s safe because if you’re in an accident, he’s less likely to get injured in this position.”
I wince. “Oh.” I’m going to be real good at this. Clearly.
A few minutes pass in silence before Kroy asks. “What do you need?”
Shaking my head, I say, “I can’t even begin to guess. I… don’t know if I can do this,” I confess, voice barely a whisper.
Less than a week ago I said I didn’t want to do this. I hadn’t even told Sally that yet. No one knew how I really felt about this situation except my closest group of friends.
A voice in my head says that Karma has just challenged me. I did this. I got her pregnant, regardless of the fact that I wore protection. Now I have to tend to my situation whether I want to or not.
The entire ride home, I can only think about how I’m going to end up making this kid hate me just like I hated my parents growing up.
He’s going to be just as miserable here as I was at home.
Not because he’s going to be surrounded by constant animosity between parents who hated each other, but because this isn’t the life I want.
This changes everything. Where will he go when I need to go to hockey?
Who will watch him? I have no one. Sally never mentioned her parents.
I have no contact with mine. My siblings and I barely communicate more than a birthday text, and usually, we’re several days late or early.
It’s a joke among us. As long as we’re in the same month, it counts as on time.
But this… what do I do?
I close my eyes tightly, my fists clenching until my nails dig into my skin, while I try to breathe through the raging panic inside me.
“It’s going to be okay,” Kroy says. I feel his hand on my leg, but I’m afraid if I open my eyes or try to speak, it’s going to come out in a complete and utter breakdown. “I promise, Denny. Everything will be okay.”
How can it?