by Hazel Kelly
“We have to go now, Addison. It’s an emergency.”
She sat up, furrowed her brows, and scratched her head.
I grabbed everything in sight and shoved it all in the cooler, realizing only afterwards that I probably should’ve dumped the melted ice out first, but all I could think about was getting on the road as fast as I could.
Meanwhile, Addison wasn’t springing into action quite as quickly as I needed her to.
“I need you to get in the car,” I said. “And buckle your seat belt.”
She rose to her feet and stretched her arms over her head just enough that a patch of skin on her stomach showed above her pants. “What’s going on?” she asked, yawning.
“I’ll explain in the car.”
I shoved the blanket under my arm and headed up the hill with the cooler. By the time I had everything packed in the car, she was climbing in opposite me.
The squeal of me peeling out of the driveway probably woke everything in the forest, but I didn’t care.
Addison gripped the handle on the door. “What’s going on?”
“I have to go to the hospital.”
“What?” She straightened up in her seat. “Why?”
“Cause my daughter’s there.”
She rubbed her eyes with her fingertips and raised her eyebrows as if she were trying to wake her face. “Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry I can’t take you home first,” I said, turning my eyes towards the road. “But it’s in the opposite direction.” I watched the painted white lines disappear past my tires while I tried to estimate how quickly I could get to Durhum if I sped the whole way. “I’ll call you a cab as soon as we get there, and I’ll pay for it, obviously. I’m really sorry for the inconvenience.”
“Did you say your daughter?”
“Yeah.”
“Is she okay?”
I tightened my two handed grip on the steering wheel. “No. She went low.”
“Low?”
“She’s a diabetic.”
“Oh. I see.”
“It’s the kind of thing that can go from bad to worse pretty fast.” I clenched my jaw. I wanted to strangle that woman on the phone. Why didn’t someone catch her going low when a piece of chocolate could’ve fixed the problem? Why did it escalate like this? Cause it was early morning?
But Sophie was so responsible about her diabetes. That’s the only reason I even let her go to camp this summer- because she promised to stay on top of it.
Then again, she was only nine. Maybe I’d done the wrong thing by letting her go. But what was I supposed to do? Not let her be a normal kid?! Keep her inside where she was never more than two feet away from her insulin?! Fuck!
“Where is she?” Addison asked.
“St. Francis Hospital in Durhum.”
She nodded.
“I know it’s far, and I apologize again but-”
“You don’t need to apologize. I understand.”
I turned my focus away from the road just long enough to offer her a grateful smile. The color had yet to return to her face, which made her tangle of dark red hair look even more striking.
“Though when I say I understand,” she said. “I mean I get that you have to go be with your kid, not that I understand you not mentioning her before.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d be interested.”
“Yeah, well, that wouldn’t be the first thing you were wrong about.”
I remembered last night, how she got down on her knees in that little boat, her whole body glowing in the moonlight as she drank me down. “You’re right,” I said, turning onto the highway onramp. “It’s not just that.”
Addison wedged her flat hands in between her knees.
“I don’t usually tell women about her,” I said. “I like to keep any dating I do separate from my life with Sophie.”
“Sophie?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s a pretty name.”
“It suits her.”
“Did you choose it?”
“No,” I said. “Her mother named her.”
“And is her mom already on the way to the hospital or”-
“No. Her mom died when she was little.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “It was a long time ago, and it was probably for the best.”
“What?”
I shook my head. “Sorry. That’s a horrible thing to say. I don’t mean that, okay? Forgive me. It’s just- it’s a long story.”
“You don’t have to tell me about it.”
“It’s not that. I just can’t think about it right now.”
“Of course,” she said. “Focus on your driving.”
I nodded and exhaled, wishing I were already there.
“How old is she?”
“She just turned nine.”
“Nine?”
“Yeah, why?”
“No reason. I’m just still surprised you didn’t mention her.”
“No offense, Addison, but you’re not the only one with secrets.”
“What makes you think I have secrets?”
“Everybody has secrets.”
“Hmmm.”
“Not that I’m ashamed of my daughter.” My eyes started to water. “She’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I just don’t introduce her to people who might not stick around, if that makes sense.”
She nodded. “It does. Kids need stability. There’s no reason to have a parade of people going in and out of her life if you can help it.”
“That’s exactly how I feel,” I said. “Thanks.”
“So where was she? When she went low?”
“At camp. She was hell bent on going, and she was so adamant to prove to me that she could be responsible enough about her diabetes that everything would be okay.”
“I’m sure it was an accident.”
“That doesn’t mean it isn’t serious.”
“I know,” she said. “But I’m sure everything will be okay.”
And even though I knew that’s what people said when they had no idea whether things were going to be okay, I was still glad she was there saying it to me and giving me a reason to hold it together- if only on the outside.
Chapter 4: Addison
He had a fucking kid?! A little girl?! How was that even possible?!
Shouldn’t he have mentioned that? Shouldn’t I have been able to tell he was a dad?
Except I don’t know how I would know. There was nothing at all dad-like about him.
Until now, of course.
I’d never seen him so panicked. There was evidence of cold sweat on his forehead, and the tension he was feeling was palpable, like he was so twisted on the inside it was stunting his ability to express himself.
I sighed, releasing the air slowly from my lungs so he wouldn’t think I was complaining.
On the contrary, I understood. Or I wanted to, even though no one had ever come to my rescue like that. Besides Mrs. Collins. But she didn’t know she was doing it at the time, whereas Wyatt was clearly on a rescue mission.
And it was weird to see him in a different mode. It was the first time since we met that I felt like seducing me wasn’t his number one priority, which was kind of lucky since I really felt like I needed to brush my teeth. And as much as I wanted to flip the visor down and check if I looked a mess, I didn’t think it was appropriate to blatantly worry about my own vanity when his daughter was in the hospital.
I tried to imagine what he was feeling- what it must be like to feel responsible for someone else.
Had I said anything uncharitable in the last two days about children? I couldn’t remember. It was the kind of thing I would do. After all, I didn’t understand them and never felt I was one.
So seeing a father in distress was a new experience for me. And on top of that, I was trying to wrap my head around the fact that Wyatt was clearly more than the conceited womanizer I took him for.
I mean, a r
eal lothario would use their kid as a pawn to meet woman. I saw guys do it with puppies in the park all the time. Nothing like a cute little helpless thing to break the ice and prove to a potential hook up that you’re not a serial killer.
Of course, Wyatt hadn’t done that. He’d kept his whole daughter’s existence to himself. And that intrigued me.
It was a choice I would expect from someone with more maturity than I’d given him credit for, a choice that protected all three of us in a way.
And was his being a father why he made me feel so comfortable last night when I was afraid to get in the boat? Why he didn’t rock it once just to scare me like I was positive he was going to? Why he was so familiar with The Little Mermaid? Why he left the band?
I had so many questions I suddenly wanted to ask him now that I knew I didn’t have him figured out as well as I thought, but his eyes were dark and sharp, and I could tell he was completely preoccupied by the thought of getting to Sophie as fast as he could.
And what was that bit about her mom? That her being dead was for the best? Shit. What a totally fucked up thing to say. I mean, if anything he’d said in the last two days deserved further explanation, that was it. Maybe he didn’t love her?
But that didn’t seem like a good reason to be happy she was dead. And he must’ve seen something redeeming in her or surely Sophie wouldn’t be in his life now.
I hoped he didn’t regret being with me at the lake. I hoped he didn’t wish he’d been somewhere else when the call came through, besides by her side, obviously.
“Is there anything I can do?” I said, raising my eyebrows. “Anyone I can call?”
Wyatt blinked and pursed his lips. Then he checked the clock. It was almost six in the morning. “Yeah,” he said. He picked his phone up off the seat and handed it to me. “Can you call my brother, Austin. Tell him what’s happened.”
I turned the phone on and felt a pain in my heart. The background was a picture of a little girl with stringy blond hair smiling on a wooden swing. “Is that her?” I asked. “In the picture?”
Wyatt stole a glance at the screen. “Yeah.”
“She’s beautiful.”
“I know.” He swallowed. “And not just on the outside.”
“Austin, right?” I said, scrolling through the first few names in his phonebook.
“Yeah.”
I hit the call button and waited. I was staring at Wyatt’s white knuckles on the wheel when his brother picked up.
“This better be good,” he said. “You woke Karen up and everything.”
“I’m sorry to call you so early,” I said. “My name is Addison, and I’m in the car with Wyatt. He asked me to call because he’s driving us to the hospital right now.”
“Jesus. Is everything okay?”
“We don’t know yet. Sophie went low. We’re on our way to St. Francis Hospital.”
“In Durhum,” Wyatt added.
“In Durhum,” I repeated.
“You said your name was Addison?” Austin asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“Will you tell my brother I’ll be there as soon as I can?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Tell him not to tell our parents yet,” Wyatt said, keeping his eyes straight ahead.
“Wyatt doesn’t want you to tell your parents yet,” I said.
“That’s fine,” Austin said. “Can you stay with him until I get there?”
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll stay as long as he wants me to.”
“No,” Austin said. “Stay until I get there.”
“But I-”
“Listen, Addison-”
“I’m listening.”
“I know that’s a lot to ask,” he said. “But Wyatt won’t want to impose so he’ll tell you he doesn’t need you there.”
“Uh-huh.”
“But that little girl is his whole world.”
“I understand.”
“And he’ll hold it together better if you stay.”
“He seems fine now.”
“Just do it, okay?” Austin said. “Please.”
“Okay.”
“I can be there by this afternoon,” he said. “I’ll catch the first flight I can.”
Flight?! “Okay.”
“Thank you in advance for looking out for my baby brother.”
“No problem,” I said, feeling like I should’ve been doing more to help.
Austin hung up, and I ended the call but kept the phone in my hand.
“Thanks,” Wyatt said. “What did he say?”
“He said he’ll be on the first plane he can catch, and he wants me to stay with you until he gets there.”
Wyatt shook his head. “You don’t have to do that. I told you I’d call you a cab first thing. This isn’t your problem. I don’t expect you to stick around.”
“I don’t mind,” I said. “Really.”
“We’ll see how you feel when you get there. Hospitals aren’t exactly the nicest places to hang around.”
“Sounds good,” I said, deciding I didn’t want him to waste his energy arguing with me.
“Thanks for doing that, by the way.”
“No problem.”
“You’re very cool under pressure.”
I shrugged. “I’m always under pressure.”
“Well, I don’t think I could’ve heard Austin’s voice without completely losing it so thanks for doing that for me.”
“It’s alright.”
“He’s not going to say anything to my parents yet, right?”
“I told him not to.”
“Good.” He ran his hand over his head. “The last thing I need is them complaining about the dry air in the hospital room while my daughter struggles for breath.”
The pain in his voice was tangible, and it was uncomfortable to see him so flustered, so helpless, especially when he’d been nothing short of Mr. Confident since I met him.
“My mom thinks I shouldn’t have let her go to camp. She told me if something happened, I’d never forgive myself.”
“Don’t think like that,” I said. “She’ll be fine.”
He shook his head. “She wouldn’t take no for an answer. Every day she had a new pitch for why I would be the best dad ever if I just let her go to camp with her friends.”
“You did the right thing,” I said, surprised at the soft tone of my voice. “You can’t protect her from everything.”
“I didn’t have a choice. She’s so persistent,” he said. “She’s like you that way. She has to get what she wants all the damn time.”
“Daddy’s little girl?”
He smiled. “Yeah, I guess it is all my fault. She’s got me wrapped around her little finger.” He breathed in sharply like the thought of her little finger almost set him off.
“She’s going to be alright,” I said. “Just breathe.”
“God I hope you’re right,” he said. “Cause if she’s not…” He exhaled through his lips but didn’t finish the thought.
Chapter 5: Wyatt
It was the second time I’d ever felt that way and the second time this had happened.
The first time she was only little and we were in New York City for the weekend. The day before she went low, I decided to steal a few hours for myself and left her with my sister while I went to play a gig with the band. At that point, Johnny still had me convinced I could do it all. But my heart wasn’t in it anymore, and I knew it was over.
I had no intention of abandoning music, of course, not when music had always been there for me. But I wasn’t interested in investing in other people the way performers have to in order to be successful. I wanted to save my attention for Sophie. Besides, her voice was more than enough music for me, and I wasn’t going to forgo time with her just to get my ego stroked.
She was my top priority.
I sighed.
It felt good to breathe. I knew I needed to remember to do that. But with every deep breath that soothed me, I thought of the breat
h Sophie was probably struggling for.
The first time it happened, I should’ve known something was wrong. Looking back, I feel like I let her down, but she hadn’t been with me long enough for me to know all her little noises by heart yet. I thought she was just frustrated with the blocks she was playing with as she tried to shove them in the bucket with the holes that matched their shapes.
I thought she was a genius that she could do that. She always seemed brighter than other kids her age. I figured she got that from Hannah, though, cause I was never a good student. But she got her rhythm from me for sure. She used to bang on pots and pans and slam the cabinet doors in the kitchen. I was so proud of my little percussionist. But it was the piano she always favored. From the second she realized she could push down on more than one key at a time, she was hooked… though I missed watching her play with one little finger.
And then the rhythm of the beeps in the emergency room played between my ears.
Oh god oh god oh god. I wish I believed in you. I wish I could use prayer as a security blanket and wrap the shit out of myself right now. I looked out the corner of my eye at Addison. “Do you pray?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
Her lips formed a straight line. “I will if you want me to.”
I shook my head. “That’s not what I mean.”
“What do you mean then?”
“I mean do you pray? When shit goes wrong?”
She narrowed her eyes.
“You don’t have to say,” I said. “It’s none of my business what you-”
“It’s okay.”
I took a deep breath, reminding myself not to hold it in.
“I don’t pray,” she said, shaking her head. “Ever.”
“Cause you don’t believe?”
“I don’t have time for one.”
I smiled. She was crazy. As if having religion or not could be as simple as seeing if faith fit in your schedule.
“Plus,” she said. “I don’t believe in God.”
I nodded.
“Supernatural father figures kind of freak me out.”
I laughed, my chest loosening, and flicked the turn signal on so I could get in the right lane. I knew the exit was coming, and I wasn’t about to miss it just cause I was having an existential crisis. And then Addison’s calm voice broke the silence.
