“Whathappened?”
“She wasn’t mytype.”
My head tips to the side. “Do you have anything more to say thanthat?”
“No.”
I throw my hands in the air and turn back around. He shuffles out, his boots giving away every step of hisretreat.
I lean back on the couch and gaze at the picture on the side table. Me, my dad, and Claire, smiling. Two of the people in the picture are stunted, suspended by a moment in time. But the third has managed to escape damage. And she’s the one I have to think ofnow.
It's amazinghow I can be calm in surgery, hands so steady and certain of every slice through skin, every manipulation of bones until they fit back together. But knowing Aubrey's coming over tonight has mehyper.
My apartment couldn't be any cleaner. I could eat off the floor if I wanted to. My favorite carbonara, noodles twisted in a pile on the dark wooden planks, would be like eating off one of the shiny white plates from the set Jenna brought over to replace the colorful ones my mom gave me.That'show much I've cleaned since I got home late thisafternoon.
Wait. Does it smell too much likecleaner?
I search the cabinets until I find candles. Also chosen by Jenna. I light one and place it in the center of the kitchen island. Far away from the edge where a child could grab it.See, Aubrey, I can be trusted withClaire.
Tonight is a big deal. Tonight I show Aubrey I can take care of Claire by myself. And for longer than a few hours. It's only been two weeks since Aubrey showed up out of nowhere, dark hair spilling down her back, her eyes fearful. She was worried about Claire's break, sure, but then she saw me, and that's when the real fear tookover.
I want to ask Aubrey what she's so afraid of. With the exception of the night we met, when whiskey and bitterness made the words pour from her lips, Aubrey keeps everything close to thevest.
If tonight goes well, I'm going to tell Aubrey about my parents. What I won't tell her is that my mother called three times yesterday asking when she’s going meet her granddaughter. She also wanted to make sure I didn’t get a wild hair and get back together withJenna.
When she called the third time, Mom said “Family is love. Blood meansnothing.”
I know that. Better than most. I let the comment pass, and we talked again about Claire and Aubrey and how this was going to change mylife.
But it already has changed my life. From the very second I looked at Claire's papers after her surgery, my whole world shifted. There's gravity, then there's the gravity of Claire. Knowing she exists is what's keeping me here. Forget that job in Boston, the one with the big-name researcher at Mass General. It sounded good at first, but that was before Claire. I can invent a better way to fix an arm right where I am. No movingnecessary.
That's what I mean about gravity. Being Claire's dad is heavier, more important, more impactful, than anything else. And now I want to be the very best dad to her. And that means taking responsibility of Claire. Aubrey's not in this aloneanymore.
That’s why I’m walking the length of my place one more time, doing a fifth check, hoping that one day it will be a second home toClaire.
Maybe I should calm down. I'm getting too excited. Aubrey barely agreed to a zoo trip. She pulled out her phone right there in my office and sent a message asking if I'm apredator.
Aubrey is a cautious person, someone who anticipates the cracks in the road before she gets to them, but that's not going to scare me off. Claire is my daughter too, and I wanther.
Family is love. All my life I've heard those words, but this is the first time I've experienced it from the perspective of aparent.
At the sound of the knock, I send a cursory glance over an apartment I know is beyondreproach.
I pull open the door. Aubrey looks at me expectantly. She shifts her feet. Her gaze descends to the floor and back up tome.
“Hi.” Her mouth is soft, the word is soft, and it reminds me of Aubrey the woman, not Aubrey the mamabear.
“Come in.” I step aside and motion with myarm.
Her perfume assaults my senses when she passes me. Would she wear perfume to see my place? Maybe it's not perfume. Maybe it's justAubrey.
“Where’s Claire?” I ask. I’d been looking forward to seeing heragain.
“With my father.” Aubrey glances to the living room. My leather couch faces the oversize flat-screen TV, which doesn’t get much use unless it's football season. “I thought it best if I camealone.”
“Just in case, huh?” I rock back on my heels, hands shoved in the pockets of myjeans.
Her arms cross. “So far your home is beautiful.” She can’t keep the annoyance out of hervoice.
