I wish there were more hours to this day. I don’t think it’s sunk in that Reed is my kid. Mine. Half my blood. Half my legacy. The good I’ve been feeling sours thinking about my family tree. Watching Story and how great a mom she is to him is the only hope he’s been given.
My need to meet him, to know my offspring, was based on an instinctual level like any parent wants with their kids, overriding my common sense. Maybe I should keep my distance. I should take today and hold on to it to let him live to his full potential—happy, healthy, successful in terms that he defines. Maybe it’s my genes that will fuck him up if I’m in his life, like they’re activated by my presence.
It’s something I definitely need to take under consideration. Can her environment overrule my heredity?
I talked Story and Reed into lying under the clear skies and stars once the sun set and the sky went dark. Lila threw a blanket out the door before we had time to ask. I’m thinking we have an audience. At least it’s one rooting in our favor.
As soon as the three of us are lying on the blanket, reality hits. Story and I may not be together, but we’ll always be connected by the little guy between us. We’ll always be a family. I point up and say, “Do you see the man in the moon?”
Reed giggles and shakes his head. “How’d he get up there? In a rocket?”
Story tickles his ribs, sending him to full-on fits of laughter. I shouldn’t be, but I feel a little twinge of jealousy that they can be so close, and I can’t. Not yet, at least.
She is laughing so hard when he tickles her right back. She settles him beside her again. Grabbing his feet, he’s rocking back and forth, his feet pushing off her and then me. My little family.
Story says, “Dr. Haywood . . .” It’s the first time she’s called me that, and we share a knowing exchange over Reed’s head.
“Yes, Ms. Salenger?”
“I’m worried about my son. He seems to be unable to lie still. Do you mind taking a look?”
I sit up, and say, “Mr. Salenger?”
“Yes, Doc?” Reed says in a mimicking voice. This kid is too much.
“Pulse.” He touches his wrist. I take his fingers and touch them to his wrist. “If you press two fingers right here, you can find your pulse. Press a little harder but not too much.”
His eyes go wide. “I can feel my heart beating in my wrist, Mommy.”
“That’s a cool trick, Dr. Haywood.”
I grin at the ridiculousness. “Who needs medical school when you have Spongebob bandages and can find your pulse in your wrist?”
Story says, “Don’t downplay it. It’s really impressive.”
“Well, my professional opinion is that Reed has a case of the wiggles.”
“How do we treat it?” she asks, tickling his ribs.
“Homework?”
“Oh no,” she says, acting very serious for effect. “That definitely makes it worse.”
Reed is waving his arms in the air like a helicopter propeller. “Mommy is good with math. Me too. Twelve plus twelve is twenty-four.”
“It is. Very good.” I look back and forth between Reed and Story, happy to listen to either of them all day and night. “Tell me about your mommy and math.”
Even in the dark, I can tell when she gets embarrassed. “It’s no big deal. I don’t save lives, but I can save you lots of money on your taxes or even make money for you on investments.”
“That is impressive.”
She props herself up on her elbow, facing us. “I turned down a promotion last month. I was pretty proud of the offer, though.”
I follow her lead and lie sideways, my head weighted on my elbow. “Why’d you turn it down?”
“It would require me to be at the office for longer hours. My time with Reed is more important, and I still like to sneak in my photography.”
Reed turns to me and smiles as if he’s surprised to still find me here. Did he already forget or—“When you have your next playdate with Mommy, can I come?”
I glance at Story over his head. It’s the slightest of nods, but there was no hesitation. “Sure, buddy. What should we do?”
“The zoo.”
“The zoo?” I ask, astonished by how fast he answered. “What’s your favorite animal?”
His claws come out, and he scrunches his face. “The tigers. Roar!”
I jump, pretending to be startled. “Dude, you scared me.”
“Mom jumps. Jake says grownups fake that stuff to placate little kids like me. What does placate mean?”
This took a turn.
Story’s arm flies into the air, and she points. “Is that a shooting star?” Lying back down, she slips her arm under Reed’s head, and she holds him, rubbing his shoulder. “Those stars move fast.”
Story says, “I don’t think I’ve ever laid outside and stared up at the stars before.”
I let that sink in. She basically raised herself but look how amazing she’s doing with him. “It’s rare to be able to see stars with all the buildings and lights in the city. This neighborhood is nice that it’s not been torn down and replaced with condos.”
Reed asks, “What’s a condo?”
Softly laughing, Story says, “A tall building of apartments.”
She stretches her arm out to me, and I take her hand. We lie there together for a while, me wishing this would last forever, again.
She looks at me over Reed’s head, and whispers, “Today was a great day.”
The woman knows how to be charming. “The best,” I reply.
Glancing down at the sleeping five-year-old, she shifts just a little and then smiles at me. “Want to help me out?”
I get up and scoop him into my arms. “Where are we going?”
“Third floor. Think you can handle it?” She winks.
Shifting his weight, I maneuver his head onto my shoulder before I reach the patio. Through the window, I see the game’s still on with Lila, Lou, and Jake sitting on the couch together watching it, and though I’m still not sure what the relationship is between Lou and Lila, I know Lou’s not here for Story.
She stops just before going inside. She straightens Reed’s shirt, but I have a feeling something else is on her mind than how this kid is dressed before bed. Looking up at me, she says, “He’s so big in my arms yet so small in yours.”
I’m not sure what’s happening, but her eyes start to glisten. “I’m so sorry for keeping him from you.”
I could hold a world of anger inside for missing so many milestones that I keep track of for other families in my line of work. But that would only leave us both feeling empty. “We made the best decisions at the time. There’s no going back, babe—Story,” I correct myself. “So let’s just try to stay in the present and move forward.”
She nods and leads me upstairs. By the time I reach the third floor, I’m huffing, and I’m a runner who works out. “How do you carry him up here?”
“Very slowly and with lots of breaks.” She laughs. “He needs to use the bathroom before he gets in bed, or he could have an accident.”
I’m capable as a doctor and a man to teach this kid to use the bathroom, but I set his feet on the ground because I don’t want to make any assumption that will have her pulling back.
When they’re done, he climbs into the bottom bunk bed, and she tucks him in. After a kiss to Story, he holds his arms out for me. I kneel and lean over into the cave of his bed. When he wraps his arms around my neck, I drop my head to the pillow beside him. I rub his arm, wishing I could hug back, but he’s tucked snug as a bug, and I don’t want to mess with Story’s routine.
His hair smells like a mixture of the outdoors and cotton candy. Something on his fingers is definitely sticky against my neck. He hugs me like he wants to choke me to death, and I wouldn’t change anything about him. I love him. “Good night, Reed.”
“Good night, Cooper.” It guts me just a little to hear that name instead of another. But I’ll take what I can get to be in his life.
41
Cooper
“When can we schedule our next playdate?” I ask, sending her a little wink as we stand awkwardly on the front stoop. “I haven’t been to the zoo since I was little. Patrice would take me with her kids at least once a year.”