Her words hang heavily in the air as my mind struggles to process them. They would make sense to me if we were fifteen again. But we are grown-ass adults with jobs and a child. Still, I just want my life back. My wife … my family. “Fine. Let’s meet at a bar. Let’s date like we’re meeting for the first time. I’ll act like you’ve looked this way forever. You can tell me as little or as much as you want to about yourself, and I won’t bring up our past.”
After several unblinking seconds, a tiny smile works its way up her face. “I love you, Eli. I will always love you. But you just said it yourself, it would be an act. We both deserve something better than that. We could go through the motions, but they would mean nothing because we both would know they were an act.”
She looks at me like a dog she plans to leave at a shelter. It’s the way she looked at me when she said she needed out. A terrible look. I’m good with that being the last time she gives it to me.
“I’ll have Roman’s bag packed Sunday night.” I turn and exit her office without looking back. I’m done looking back at the wreckage of my marriage.
* * *
Dorothy
The following morning, after a twelve-hour shift, I wait inside the parking garage entrance. I have it on good authority that Dr. Hawkins will be here at 7:00 a.m. It’s not his weekend to work, but (also on good authority) he has a patient in a special chemotherapy trial, and he needs to check in on her.
“Dr. Hawkins!”
His head snaps up as he walks through the automatic glass doors, holding his son’s hand. The little boy looks about four from his height. Tall. Probably his dad’s genes. Dr. Hawkins has to be at least six-four—a full foot taller than my five-four stature. But I know, in spite of his height, little Roman is only three. Lots of rumors about the hottest doctor at the hospital float around. I’m fairly certain the age of his son is correct.
“Dorothy …” he says my name slowly, like the smile that grows on his face.
“For you.” I hold out a large reusable shopping bag, but it hasn’t been used before. I bought it for his stuff. He can reuse it. He can think of me when he reuses it. Unless it brings back memories of me spilling coffee on his ass and down the back of his legs. Then maybe I prefer he not think of me when reusing the bag.
He releases the little boy’s hand and takes the bag. “What’s this?”
“What’s in the bag?” Roman says in choppy increments. He’s a spitting image of his dad. They both have the same dirty blond hair. A little longer on the top and shorter on the sides. They have the same rich brown eyes too. His shirt reads TROUBLE.
“Dorothy …” Dr. Hawkins shakes his head, lifting his gaze from the contents of the bag to me. “Why did you do this?”
“I ruined your scrubs. So I bought you new ones. Underwear … just took a guess on the size. Hope you’re good with boxer briefs in black. And the shoes are in two sizes. I guessed either a ten and a half or an eleven. Am I right?”
Dr. Hawkins nods slowly, wearing a distorted mask of confusion. “Eleven. But …”
“Donate the other pair.” I shrug.
“You …” He shakes his head again, brows knitted together. “You should return them and get your money back. You should return all of this and get your money back. And what is—” He pulls out the superhero cape.
“Oh!” I laugh. “That’s not for you. I heard you usually arrive with this little guy because he goes to the hospital daycare. Apparently, a lot of the nurses’ ovaries explode when this happens.” I roll my eyes. “Seems a bit farfetched. Anyway, I had an uncle who used to include me whenever someone in the family had a special occasion like a birthday. He’d get them a gift, and he’d get me some sort of dress-up gift. My mom said he was spoiling me, but he said fostering a child’s imagination is an investment into the future, not the spoiling of a generation.”
Dr. Hawkins opens his mouth, but nothing comes out for several seconds.
I glance at my watch. “I have to get upstairs. Hope everything fits. Especially the cape.” I grin at Roman. He’s adorable, hugging his dad’s leg and watching me with big brown eyes.
“Thank you, Dorothy. Really … I don’t know what to say.”
“Daddy … go.” Roman tugs on his leg.
“Yeah, buddy. We’ll go.” He shares a big smile, not the confused and guilty expression from just seconds earlier. Dr. Hawkins has a great smile.