“Mommy, what is Dr. Rialta’s first name?” Claire doesn’t look at me, too intent on hersorting.
“I don’t remember. Why?” I settle myself on the floor, closer to Claire than toIsaac.
“Can I call Dr. Rialta by her first nametoo?”
I can’t help but laugh. Isaacgrins.
“No, honey. Dr. Rialta is just your doctor.” I pause to look at Isaac. His eyes are on me, waiting for me to continue. Emotion ripples across his face, and to me it looks like hope. “Dr. Cordova, I mean, Isaac… He’s special, baby. More than just yoursurgeon.”
My stomach knots. Am I going to tell her now? Is this the right time? And what will it even mean to her? She’s a child. How will she make sense ofthis?
I take a deep breath.Go into this without expectation. That’s the best you cando.
Isaac’s gaze is still on me. I look into his eyes, trying to assess and understand what he wants me to do. He nods his head, only a little, but it’senough.
“Claire, can you take a break from what you’re doing and look atme?”
She drops the cards and turns her wide, trusting face toward me. I gather her good hand in both of mine and wish desperately I could hold the other, too. But then if I could hold both her hands, none of this would behappening.
“Isaac is special because…” I freeze, swallow. The words are there, but they won’t come out. I look to Isaac, eyes pleading. He scoots closer, until his crossed leg presses against my own. The smell of him fills my nostrils once more and makes this whole experience even moresurreal.
He covers our bound hands with one of his. “Claire, I’m yourdad.”
Claire stares at him, her eyes narrowed as she mulls over what she has just heard. My breath sticks in my chest, waiting for her nextwords.
“Annabelle has a dad,” she says slowly. “So does Walker. And Alexa. And Kohen. They all have dads.” She falls quiet but keeps her eyes on Isaac. Then she looks at me. “I have a dadtoo?”
I will not cry. I will not cry. When the burning sensation behind my eyes passes, I say, “Yes. Isaac is yourdad.”
She looks back to him and nods her head. “OK. I liked you when I met youanyway.”
Isaac and I laugh, and it cuts through the thick tension in theroom.
“I brought my favorite patient a present.” Isaac grabs a bag lying next to the couch. How had I not noticed him carrying it? Oh, right. I was gaping at his chest, then gasping forair.
Claire holds out her arm and grins excitedly. Isaac pulls a box wrapped in pink paper from the plastic bag and sets the gift on the floor. It's covered in loose, haphazard tissue paper, as if wrapped by a child.He's made it easy for her toopen.
In seconds she has pulled off the thin sheet of paper. “What is this?” She asks, turning the box over and looking at theback.
Isaac sends me a disbelieving glance before he looks back at Claire. “LEGOs. Do you have any LEGOsets?”
“No.” She positions the box between her legs and uses her thighs to hold it in place. With one hand, she tries to open the box. Isaac watches her with wonder on hisface.
“Do you want some help opening that?” heasks.
Claire lets out a frustrated stream of air from her nose. “Yes.”
“It’s OK to need help,” he says. “You’re at a disadvantage with your broken arm.” He looks up at me as he takes the box and opens it. “But it’s good to see her figuring out how to manipulate objects. That’s why kids don’t need physical therapy the same way an adult would in this situation. Play will be her physicaltherapy.”
I nod and gather the ripped tissue paper. I need something to do with my hands. I’m on my way to the garbage can in the kitchen when I turn backaround.
“Would you like a drink,Isaac?”
He looks up from the piles of LEGOs he and Claire are dumping onto the floor. “Only if I can watch you open it. I don’t accept open bottles from strangers.” He winks atme.
I blush and look down even as a smile tugs on my lips. “One unopened bottle of water, coming rightup.”
I deposit the balled-up handful of paper into the recycling bin and grab two bottles of water, plus Claire’s pink water bottle with the purple unicorns onit.
