We were ushered to the waiting room mere seconds after my dad confronted me, and now we’re trying to have a seriously private conversation in a very public setting. A veryquietpublicsetting.
I rub my eyes and repeat the answer I gave him two minutes ago. “I don’t want to talk about this right now. I’m scared and I’m freaking out and I don’t know what tosay.”
Dad sighs and runs his hands through hishair.
I close my eyes, silentlypraying.
“What are you going to do now that he’s back in thepicture?”
My eyes fly open, and I turned to him. “Dad! Stop. Please.” My whispered hisses don’t go unnoticed, but the woman across from us looks away when our eyes meet. I can’t blame her for being interested. It’s not like there’s much else to do rightnow.
Beside me, my dad’s shaking his head. “I don’t think I can, Aubs. It took everything in me not to blurt it out backthere.”
“Thank goodness you didn’t. It’s not yourplace.”
He blows noisily through his nose and looks up at theceiling.
My dad’s a good ol’ boy, the kind of man who does what’s right. He’ll do what he thinks is best or kill himself trying. There’s no doubt in my mind he’s going to insist I tell Isaac about Claire. And if I wait too long, he’ll tell Isaachimself.
“I’ll tell him, Dad. Don’tworry.”
“A child deserves two parents, Aubrey. Two.” He holds up two fingers foremphasis.
“I’m painfully aware of that,” Imutter.
“Then you should know more than anybody the right thing to do here.” He’s giving me his pointed look, the one he uses when he wants to convince me his way is the onlyway.
“I hear you.” I hold up my hand to let him know to stop. “And I’ve already said I’ll tell him. Let me just get my baby home and settled and take some time to understand what telling Isaac will mean foreverybody.”
“Don’t wait too long. You’re holding two lives in yourhands.”
“That’s a littlemelodramatic.”
He raises one eyebrow but keeps quiet. I look away and focus on the long hallway that runs parallel to where I’m sitting. I stay that way until Isaac appears at the wide entrance to the waiting room, a surgical cap on hishead.
I jump out of my chair and rush tohim.
“How is she?” The words fly from mymouth.
He grins his big Isaac smile. “She’s perfect. Like I said, piece of cake. Someone will come get you and take you to her inrecovery.”
My dad’s hand slides past me, palm out. “Thank you, Dr.Cordova.”
“Just doing my job.” He shakes hands with mydad.
“Aubrey.” Isaac turns his attention to me. “As long as Claire comes out of anesthesia OK, she can go home today. They’ll watch her for a while and make sure she doesn’t fever, and then she’ll be discharged. I want to see Claire in my office in ten days. We’ll do x-rays and get her fitted for her next cast. My office information will be on her dischargepapers.”
“OK.” I bite my lower lip, knowing there’s no way my dad will let me go ten days before telling Isaac. Even right now I can feel him beside me, silently urging me to tell him thissecond.
I focus on those warm brown eyes I’ve seen in my dreams, and in my daughter’s face, for five years. “See you soon, Isaac.” I know I’ll tell him. And I know I’ll tell him soon. I just don’t know what will happen afterthat.
* * *
Ibarely gota few bites of food into Claire after we got home. The discharge nurse warned me this would happen, but it still worries me. Usually Claire’s appetite is voracious, the source of so many jokes about her being a teenage boy in a little girl’s body. Begging her to take a third bite of applesauce took my already frazzled nerves and lit them on fire. She passed out as soon as I gave her pain medicine. Which was also something I was told to expect, but it was hard towatch.
I miss my little girl.Even though I’ve been with her all day, my little Claire has been absent. The wise nurse, who had clearly seen this plenty of times, also told me Claire would start acting like herself in a day or two.Her body has been through a lot. And she probably doesn’t understand most ofit.
As soon as I left Claire’s room, I escaped to the front porch. Even though it faces the street, there's privacy. Ivy threaded trellises fill the space between the three brick posts that run the length of the porch. A large wooden swing hangs from the ceiling. My dad installed it last year, and when I questioned him about how securely it hung, he gave me a dirty look. I shut my mouth and fell in love with the damn thing, but every time Claire sits on it I feel nervous. I keep that feeling to myselfthough.
