Look the Part

by Jewel E. Ann

  “Your wife is out of recovery and in her room. In another hour they’re going to try and bring her down here to see Aria.”

  I nod at the nurse without taking my eyes off my tiny daughter in the incubator. Thankfully, she’s not as tiny as some of the other babies in here. And she’s breathing on her own with just a little bit of oxygen. Aria is already kicking ass in the NICU. I can tell she’s going to be beautiful like her mom and no-nonsense like her dad.

  The hour disappears before I realize it, probably because I could stare at her all day. I remember this same sentiment when Harrison was born; it’s feeling drugged with disbelief that this tiny human came to life because one night I physically lost myself in the body of a woman.

  And there she is … that woman. I smile.

  “Hey,” Ellen whispers as the nurse wheels her into the NICU.

  I stand and go to her, my fingers finding their way through her hair to hold her head while I kiss her. “She’s so perfect,” I murmur over her lips. “Just like you. Thank you for being so strong and amazing.”

  Ellen smiles, pale and tired, eyes red with tears, a Band-Aid where she has a small cut from the accident. Thankfully no concussion. “They said I can try to feed her.”

  I nod, moving out of the way to make room for the wheelchair. The nurse helps Ellen get Aria situated. Elle grimaces a little, I assume from the pain she’s probably still in from the C-section. After several attempts, Aria latches on for a few suckles before drifting off to sleep. The nurse assures her it will get better, but Aria will probably take most of her milk from a bottle until she can stay awake long enough to nurse longer. She praises our little girl for already having the suck-swallow-breathe reflex.

  Ellen pumps her breasts and gives her a bottle, Aria’s tiny diaper clad body pressed to Elle’s bare chest. She’s going to be a great mom, and I think I knew it the first time I watched her interact with Harrison.

  While the nurse helps Ellen and Aria, I step out of the NICU and turn on my phone. A message from my friend pops up on my screen.

  Male – 27 – DOA – thrown from car. BAC .17 – Hope Ellen and the baby are okay. Let me know if there is anything else you need.

  I stumble back until my back hits the wall. My lungs can’t find any oxygen. My phone falls from my hand.

  “Flint?”

  “Dad?”

  I blink several times until Jon and Harrison come into view.

  Harrison picks up my phone. “‘Male – 27 – DOA – thrown from car. BAC .17 – Hope Ellen and the baby are okay. Let me know if there is anything else you need.’ Who’s Ben? What’s DOA and BAC?”

  Jon takes the phone from Harrison. I can’t fucking move. This can’t be happening.

  “Dead on arrival.” Jon gives me a sympathetic look, but not the kind that says he knows about Heidi—the kind that says how lucky his daughter and granddaughter are to be alive. “Ellen was hit by a drunk driver. The driver died.”

  I lived. Heidi died.

  “If he was drinking and driving then he deserved to die,” Harrison says.

  Jon nods. Holding out my phone to me. “I don’t know if he deserved to die, but if someone had to die tonight, I’m just glad it was him and not my girls. Right?” He rests his fatherly hand on my shoulder, just like my dad would do.

  I nod.

  I lived. Heidi died. The wrong person died. The wrong person lived.

  “How’s Aria?”

  Heidi died. She died on the night I was supposed to give her another baby.

  “Flint?”

  I shake my head. “Yeah?”

  Jon narrows his eyes. “Are you okay?”

  I nod on impulse. I’m so fucking not okay.

  “How’s Aria?”

  “Sh-she’s perfect.”

  “Do you need me? Or would you rather I take Harrison home? It’s almost midnight.”

  “Take me home,” Harrison says.

  Jon laughs. “Okay, buddy. Flint, sure you’re okay?”

  I nod again.

  “Call if anything changes. We’ll be back in the morning.”

  Another nod.

  *

  Ellen

  I STAY WITH Aria until I just can’t keep my eyes open any longer. The nurse takes me back to my room, but I can’t find Flint. He said he’d stay with our baby girl. Where is he? The nurse promises to message him and have him come see me, but I fall asleep before he comes to my room.

  Several times during the night I wake when they come to check on me. Flint never shows up. I wake early in the morning feeling like death. Every part of my body aches, but nothing more than my arms that ache to hold Aria. After they check my incision and my bleeding and I eat something, they take me to the NICU.

  No Flint.

  Why did he leave our baby? Where is he?

  “Good morning,” the NICU nurse whispers. “Ready to work some more on breastfeeding?”

  I nod and smile at my little girl in spite of the pain in my chest for her missing daddy. I work on feeding her, pumping, and giving her a bottle until they drag me out to go back to my room for the doctor to do his exam. Everything looks good. They want me to try to walk around today. The thought alone exhausts me.

  “The more blood we can get flowing to all parts of your body, the faster you will recover, and Aria needs you strong and healthy for her.” The nurse gives me an encouraging smile.

  I sigh and ease my feet over the side of the bed. “You don’t play fair.” I smirk at her efforts to use Aria to motivate me.

  “No marathons or heavy lifting, but gentle movements are good for you.”

  I walk to the bathroom, pee, and walk back without passing out, but by the time I reach the bed, I’m exhausted.

  “Knock knock.”

  “Dad.” I smile. “And Mr. Harrison.” I wait, leaning my head to the side to see the door. “Where’s your dad?”

  Harry shrugs.

  “I took Harry home last night. Flint stayed. Maybe we crossed paths this morning. He probably needed a shower.” My dad looks down at his phone. “I’ll message him.”

  “I haven’t seen him. I don’t think he was here last night.”

  “He was distracted when we saw him. It was late. Long day.” My dad slides his phone back into his pocket and sits next to me on the bed, squeezing my hand. “I’m so glad you and Aria are okay.”

  “The driver died,” Harry says.

  “What?”

  My dad frowns. “The guy who hit you. He died at the scene.”

  “Drunk driver.” Harry looks at the monitors above my bed.

  “What?” I whisper.

  “He deserved to die,” Harry adds without a shred of emotion.

  My heart feels like it’s being squeezed to death. “Does Flint know?”

  Dad nods.

  “I …” I shake my head. “I have to get back to the NICU. I need you to find Flint for me as soon as possible.”

  “Maybe he’s at the airport. His parents were flying in this morning.”

  I nod. “Maybe. But please keep trying to get hold of him for me, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  I reach over and tug at Harry’s arm. He jumps like usual then settles into my touch. “Do you want to meet your baby sister?”

  He shrugs. I’ll take the lack of a solid no as a yes or at least a maybe. I’ll take anything anyone will give me to keep my mind off the fact that Flint is missing. I know it has everything to do with the cause of my accident.

  Past colliding with present. His son showing no empathy—no forgiveness. It’s been the nightmare that Flint’s been running from for over ten years.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  IT’S BEEN FOUR days. No Flint, in spite of his dad looking everywhere.

  The doctor discharged me this morning, but I won’t leave Aria. Then there’s Harry … he breaks my heart. I can tell he’s starting to worry about his dad. What will he do when he finds out that Flint’s running from him? From the truth. From ten years of pac
ing the gates of Hell.

  “She likes that,” the nurse whispers as I hum one of the many lullabies I sang to Aria in the womb.

  With a smile, I nod while feeding Aria. I sing and hum to her all the time, watching the monitors to make sure she’s never overstimulated.

  After she’s done feeding, I let the nurse examine her while I use the bathroom. When I come out, another nurse stops me.

  “Is your husband feeling better?” the nurse asks.

  I bite my tongue from saying that he’s not my husband. “Feeling better?”

  “It’s heartbreaking to see him at night watching you and Aria from the window.” She nods to the window opposite of where I hold Aria. “I told him to go in, but he said he’s fighting a cold.”

  “When’s the last time you saw him?”

  She shrugs. “Last night. He’s been here every night. Just … standing there for hours.”

  I nod slowly, biting my lips together. Tears burn my eyes. Of course he’s watching over us. He’s always there watching … protecting. He’s my superhero fighting his mortality.

  “Elle.”

  I turn. “Camilla.” I smile.

  She holds up her phone.

  FLINT: I’m safe. Don’t worry. Tell Elle I’m sorry.

  More tears sting my eyes. “Where’s Harry?”

  “Gene needed coffee. They’ll be here soon.”

  “We’re here.” Gene holds up his coffee as they walk down the hall toward us.

  I blink back my tears and find the perfect smile for Harry. “Are you ready to be Aria’s music therapist today?”

  “I’m not a music therapist. You just told me to bring my guitar.” He holds up the case.

  I nod toward the entrance. “Let’s play her a lullaby. You’re going to let your fingers whisper to the strings.”

  He stares at me expressionless. “O … K.”

  I bring her to my chest, letting my heart start the rhythm of the song. “What’s your favorite lullaby, Harry?” I whisper. “Play it.”

  He shakes his head. “I can’t.”

  “You can. Let your fingers translate what’s in your head.” He can do this. He’s just that gifted. And the wonder of it all is that he doesn’t see it yet.

  His brow tenses; a few seconds later his fingers do exactly what I told them to do … they whisper to the strings. He plays “You Are My Sunshine.”

  It’s my turn to save Flint. I’m going to piece his world back together. He just needs to hold on. He needs to give me a chance, the one thing Alex never did.

  *

  AFTER ARIA’S NEXT feeding, I ask Camilla to sit with her while I take Harry to the cafeteria for lunch.

  “You walk really slow.”

  I laugh as we step onto the elevator. “I’m still sore from the accident, and I have an incision on my abdomen from the C-section. Everything’s a little sore when I move, so I move slowly.”

  “They cut her out of you?”

  “Yes.”

  “My mom pushed me out. My dad has a video of it. He had me watch it once. It’s pretty gross.”

  We get some food. Harry sticks with a bowl of fruit. He seems lost when Flint’s not around to tell him what’s safe to eat.

  “After your mom died, you lived with your grandma. Did you ever wonder about your dad?”

  Harry chews a piece of cantaloupe and shrugs. “He was sick.”

  “Is that what she told you?”

  He nods.

  “But then you ended up living with your dad again.”

  “He got better.”

  “Did anyone ever tell you what kind of sickness he had?” I blow on my hot soup.

  “What do you mean?”

  “There are a lot of different illnesses: cancer, heart disease, diabetes.”

  “No. My grandma just said he was sick, and maybe I could see him if he got better.”

  I stare at my soup. It must have been difficult to explain this to a young child. “Well, here’s the truth about illnesses or diseases, most of them are preventable through better choices. Diet, exercise, abstaining from drug and alcohol use. But a lot of these things are addictive. You probably know that tobacco, like cigarettes, are addictive, but so are unhealthy foods. Too much fat can lead to heart disease. Too much sugar can lead to obesity and diabetes. And the more we eat these foods, the more our bodies crave them. Food can be just as addictive and harmful as any drug.”

  “My dad thinks I’m addicted to sugar. That’s why he limits it.”

  I smile. “But you like sugar, right?”

  He nods.

  “When there’s a plate of cookies in front of you, is it hard to resist eating them?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s because the feeling you get when you’re eating them is a drug. Just like someone who inhales the nicotine of a cigarette, they get this good feeling in their body. But these feelings are temporary, so to keep the feeling alive, we need more and more. More sugar. More nicotine. More fat. More salty chips.”

  “You’re not making cookies anymore, are you?”

  I laugh a little. “I’ll make you cookies as long as you can control how many you eat. But if you start to get shaky and moody, or you start to gain an unhealthy amount of weight, then I’ll have to stop baking cookies.”

  Taking a deep breath, I move forward. “You know your dad doesn’t drink alcohol, right?”

  “Yeah. He says it’s not healthy. He’s a health freak.”

  “Well, a lot of health freaks are recovering addicts. Maybe they almost died of a heart attack. Maybe they got diabetes after gaining lots of weight. And they had to choose between living or letting their addiction kill them. And your dad many years ago was addicted to alcohol.”

  “What?”

  “That illness he had, the one that kept him away from you when you lived with your grandma? It’s called alcoholism. He couldn’t just have one drink. He lost control with alcohol.”

  “It’s not a real illness.”

  “It is, Harry. And there are a lot of people with this illness. There are a lot of people who die from this.”

  “But my dad didn’t die. He quit.”

  “Correct. But most people don’t quit their addiction until they die or something life-changing happens to them. Usually a near-death experience, like someone who changes their diet after they survive a heart attack that could have killed them. Some people call this a coming to Jesus moment.”

  “I don’t believe in God. There’s no real proof.”

  I grin. “It’s a saying. It’s something bad that happens and then everything in your life changes forever. Your dad had one of these moments, and that’s what made him stop drinking.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Your dad didn’t believe he was an alcoholic until something bad happened because he drank too much.”

  “What happened?”

  I’m here. I’ve walked him this far. Maybe Flint’s walked him this far before too. Right to the edge. The moment of truth. But it’s stuck in my throat, strangling me because I know if I say the words everything will change. I don’t want Harry to hate his father. I don’t want Flint to hate me. But this family of ours is cracked and vulnerable because of this secret.

  Maybe everything has to break before it can truly be fixed.

  “The night your mom died in the car accident, your dad was driving.”

  “It was raining. The roads were slick. They’ve told me this story before.”

  I don’t know. I never asked if it really was raining. Maybe it was. It doesn’t matter.

  “But no one told you that your dad had been drinking that night. No one told you that he was intoxicated, and that’s what caused the accident. Because it’s hard for an adult to understand and accept something so tragic, but it’s unimaginable to expect a child to understand.”

  “I hate when they serve watermelon that’s basically rind. Look, it’s clear. No color. No flavor.”

  Oh, Harry …

>   “Your dad hasn’t been around because he knows you think the guy who caused my accident deserved to die—because he’d been drinking. I’m telling you this so you know. He needs for you to know. But I don’t think he expects you to forgive him. It wouldn’t be fair to ask that of you.”

  “Grandpa found this donut place that has gluten-free donuts without dairy, but I’m not supposed to tell my dad.”

  I slide my soup aside and fold my hands on the table. “Remember that photo I had of the guy, Alex, jumping out of a plane? The one I told you climbed Mt. Everest?”

  Harry glances up. “Yeah.”

  “He got stuck in an avalanche, and by the time they rescued him, his hands had severe frostbite. They had to remove his hands. Alex was my husband. But after he lost his hands, he treated me badly. The things he did and said to me were, in many ways, unforgivable. We divorced. But I kept telling myself I forgave him. I thought if you truly love someone, nothing should be unforgivable.”

  I blink several times to keep the tears in check. “But if I’m honest, I don’t know if I’ll ever completely forgive him. I will love him forever. Emotions are ours. They are intimate and personal. And they shouldn’t be right or wrong. No one should tell you what to feel, who to love, or how to live.” I reach across the table and cover his hand with mine.

  He curls it into a fist, but he doesn’t pull away.

  “Your dad just needs you to know. That’s all. And now you do.” I ease out of the chair and grab my tray.

  “If Aria died, would you forgive the driver that hit your car?” Harrison’s gaze meets mine.

  I hurt for him so damn bad right now. Of course Flint hasn’t told him. Who turns their child’s world upside down on purpose?

  “No,” I whisper. “But that man wasn’t my father.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Flint

  “YOU’RE A HARD man to find.”

  I look up from the table as the sax player narrates my grief in song. “Who helped you?”

  My dad inspects the tumbler of whisky next to my half-empty glass of water. Concern etches his already wrinkled forehead. “Cage.”