Chapter 14 #2
But lying there listening to his car pull away, I decided.
I'd call my doctor in the morning, get back on it, give it the few weeks it needed to be reliable.
And then, some night when it was just the two of us, I'd reach up and stop his hand before he could reach for the nightstand, and I'd tell him there was nothing left to reach for.
I fell asleep smiling about it, which was its own kind of answer.
Those first few days had a rhythm that was new and slightly disorienting in the way that all new rhythms were — the unfamiliar route to school, the different coffee place, the morning light coming through new windows.
Justin adapted faster than I did, which I'd expected but which still surprised me every time I saw it in action.
By the third morning he knew which drawer had the spoons and had identified the best spot in Forest Park for what he called "important thinking," which appeared to involve sitting on a bench with Carter Junior and watching the ducks.
Carter took him on Saturday morning while I unpacked boxes. They came back two hours later with hot chocolate and strong opinions about the ducks.
"Mom, you have to see my new friend," Justin announced the second they were through the door. "He's a duck and I named him Gerald. He's the one with the bent feather. Do you like his name?"
"I love it," I said. "Gerald the duck."
"He's the leader," Carter said, with complete seriousness.
I looked at the two of them — the man and the boy, both slightly windswept, both holding hot chocolate, both apparently invested in the political structure of the Forest Park duck community — and felt something so large and uncomplicated move through me that I had to look away.
The school situation required a conversation I'd been quietly dreading.
Justin had understood, in the abstract, that moving to St. Louis meant going to a new school.
What he hadn't fully processed — and what I now had to explain — was that the new school wasn't going to be Finn's school.
Public schools in Missouri required proof of residency in the district, and until we had a permanent address, Justin couldn't enroll at Finn's school.
I sat him down the evening before his first day.
"You're going to love St. Andrew's," I said, which was what Sarah had told me and which I was choosing to believe. "It's a great school. Really small classes. And they have a before and after care program, so I'll drop you off early on my way to work and pick you up in the evenings."
Justin considered this carefully. "Is Finn going there?"
"Finn goes to a different school. But like I told you before, you'll see him after school and on weekends. St. Andrew's is your school right now, and I think you're going to like it."
"Okay," he said. Then: "Can Carter Junior come on the first day?"
"Carter Junior can absolutely come on the first day."
He nodded and went back to his book, apparently satisfied, and I sat there for a moment marveling at the resilience of small children who had been raised to believe that hard things were just things you did.
St. Andrew's before-care program started at seven-fifteen, which meant I could drop Justin off on my way to Barnett and arrive at the hospital by seven-thirty. I'd mapped the route four times. I was not going to be late on my first day.
What I hadn't mapped was the new kid.
We were walking up to the front entrance when Justin collided — enthusiastically and entirely his fault — with another boy coming around the corner. Both of them staggered. Carter Junior went flying. The other boy caught him.
They stared at each other.
"Sorry," Justin said. "That's Carter Junior."
The other boy looked at the bear. "Cool name."
"He knows the Flip."
"What's the Flip?"
Justin's eyes widened slightly at the scope of what needed to be explained. "It's a hockey move. I can show you."
"I'm Andy," the other boy said. "Andy Martino."
"I'm Justin." He took Carter Junior back. "What class are you in?"
They compared. Same class.
I looked at the teacher standing nearby, who looked back at me with the expression of someone who had watched this exact thing happen before and found it entirely predictable.
"First days are hard," she said.
"Apparently not for everyone," I said.
Justin and Andy Martino walked into St. Andrew's together without looking back.
I stood on the sidewalk for a moment in the October morning, feeling the bittersweet pride of a parent whose child has just demonstrated that everything you taught them is working.
My phone buzzed. Carter: How'd he do?
I typed back: Made a friend before he even got through the door. His name is Andy.
Three dots. Then: Of course he did.
I smiled, and walked to my car, and drove to Barnett.
My first day at Barnett University Hospital and Medical Center started at seven-thirty and I was there early, because some habits didn't change regardless of the city.
The L&D unit was on the fourth floor. I'd seen it once during the interview process, but walking in as Director felt different — the weight of it settling around my shoulders as I badged through the doors and the overnight charge nurse looked up.
"Ms. Calloway?"
I stopped myself from looking around for someone else. "Yes. That's me."
Her name was Patricia, and she had the energy of a charge nurse who had been running the overnight for twenty years and wasn't going to be impressed by a title alone. I recognized the look.
"Dr. Howe said to tell you she'd be up at eight," Patricia said. "Coffee's in the break room. The good machine, not the one by the nurses' station — that one's been broken since August."
"Got it…the one by the nurses' station is off limits," I said.
"Unless you like hot brown water."
"Oh, love it…ick," I said with a laugh.
Something in her expression shifted — not quite a smile, but close. "Welcome to Barnett," she said, and went back to her handover notes.
I found the good coffee machine and stood in the break room for a moment, breathing in the smell of a hospital in the early morning — antiseptic and coffee and something faintly floral from someone's lotion — and felt the familiar settle of it.
Different building, different city, same fundamental truth: there were people here who needed good care and a unit that needed good leadership, and I knew how to do both.
I picked up my coffee and went to meet my team.
The day was long and full and exactly what I'd hoped for.