Infinity.

by Layne Harper

  I have to pause for a moment and collect myself. I will not cry. I will not cry. It’s my mantra for today. “When I was five, I proudly told my dad that I wanted to be a doctor, to follow in his footsteps. In typical Jack fashion, he asked me what it meant to be a doctor. I told him that I wanted to be just like him, and make people feel better. My dad decided that if I wanted to go into medicine, he’d do everything in his power to help me, but I got no pass for being the daughter of a doctor. Dad made sure he loved us enough every day so us girls would have successes and failures. He never propped us up using his money or influence. Instead, he gave us opportunities to help ourselves.

  “Yes, he gave me a job in his practice. However, it was made clear to everyone who worked for him that just because I shared his last name didn’t mean that I should be granted any special privileges. It was through my first job in his practice that I met my husband. So, even when I was a bratty teenager, annoyed at the crummy car he gave me, and the minimum-wage job I had to drive two unpaid-hours to work at each way, I can say that I learned work ethic from him. I learned medicine. I found my husband, and I hope to take the life lessons he tried to instill in us girls, and pass them on to my daughter.”

  Yes. I think that’s about as politically correct as I can say it. I take a deep breath and deliver my finishing remarks. “My trim, fit, healthy father was taken from us too soon. He was always too busy to get the heart scan that Carmen bugged him about. He felt that because he was a doctor, he was immune to such things as heart attacks. If I could turn back time, we’d all badger him until he had the quick procedure done. Who knows? We might have avoided this gathering today. Unfortunately, I can’t, so as a doctor, I tell you all to get your heart checked yearly.” I add a bit of humor by shaking my finger at the crowd.

  “In conclusion, I’m going to share with you what I’ve written to my daughter about how I want her to remember her grandfather.” I pull out the sheet of notebook paper that I scratched some words to Ainsley on. Memories will fade, so I wanted to do this while they were still fresh. I plan to put the letter in an envelope, and place it in her baby book. One day, she’ll ask me about her grandfather, and I’ll share the words that I’ve written with her.

  Unfolding the paper, I don’t dare look at the crowd. I know that I’ll not make it through this if I see my sisters crying.

  “Dear Ainsley.” I pause, swallowing my tears one more time. “Today, your grandfather and my dad, Doctor Jack Collins, passed away. He died doing what he loved—playing golf. He wanted you to call him Poppy, which is about the craziest name that I could imagine for him. He wasn’t a Poppy. Maybe Doc would have suited him? Grandfather? But not Poppy. I’m sure that you would have chosen the perfect name to call him.

  “He loved you so much, baby girl. The first time he held you, he got tears in his eyes. I asked him if he was disappointed that he didn’t get a grandson. You know what he said? Absolutely not. With a twinkle in his eye, he said, ‘I was made to be the dad and poppy of little girls.’

  “You’ll miss out on visiting him at his doctor’s office. When I was little, he kept jellybeans in his desk. For you, it probably would have been unicorns and rainbows. You’ll miss out on him teaching you to play golf. Your grandfather was an excellent golfer, but an even better teacher.

  “Most of all, you’ll miss out on his wise advice. He always knew what to say, even if it was hard, and it would make you cry. Your poppy, or whatever you would have named him, loved you. He was silly and fun when he visited you. He smothered you in kisses, and told you how much he loved every little hair on your precious head. He carried pictures of you in his wallet. I know he showed them to any poor soul who dared to ask about his first granddaughter.

  “Never doubt that Doctor Jack Collins loved you like he loved nobody else. I’m sorry that you will not remember him, but don’t you worry. Your crazy aunts will make sure that you hear all the great stories.”

  I fold up the letter, and whisper through my choked-up voice. “I love you, Daddy.”

  I all but run back to my husband and his open arms. As soon as I’m seated, Colin pulls me to him, kissing my hair. “You’re my MVP, Doctor Collins. Well done.” I collapse into his side, feeling the air being sucked from my lungs. My shoulders fold into my chest. It’s over. Finally, I can grieve for my father.

  Chapter Nine

  Colin

  It’s been five days since I kissed my daughter goodnight and made love to my wife. I had originally planned to leave Wednesday night after the funeral, but dammit if I could bring myself to call a town car to take me to the airport. One more night with Charlie. One more morning to give my sweet baby girl some tummy kisses.

  Brad had fed Ainsley breakfast while I made love to my wife. In the shower… in the closet… on her too small bed… If it’s possible to store up sex like camels do water, then that’s what we were doing. Telling her goodbye when I saw the black town car arrive out front gutted me, because I didn’t know when I’d see her or Ainsley again. I still don’t.

  Charlie is staying in Houston and working at her dad’s office until they can either hire more doctors, or they sell the practice. Apparently, Jack had not been as great with his money as Carmen had thought. He’d just taken out a second mortgage on the monstrosity house to fund the new rehabilitation equipment. That’s the equivalent to a financial ouch.

  Miguel stayed in Houston to watch over my girls. There’s no room in her townhome, so I got him a hotel room near her place. He reports to me every day how they’re doing, and briefs me on any threats. The level of comfort this brings me is minimal, but it’s better than nothing. And the facts are clear, I’m far from over the almost kidnapping attempt when Ainsley was two-weeks-old.

  Today was Charlie’s first day in the office. I sent her a dozen red roses with a note that says, Keep your chin up, Infinity. Colin. She knows that she’s lost the professional athlete patients. Her goal is to keep the active patients, and the practice going. I’m hoping that she finds another doctor soon, because this coming-home-to-an-empty-house is bullshit.

  I roam through this place like the damn ghost of Christmases past. I feel like I’ve got a chain wrapped around me, making it hard to breathe. I’d thought coming home to a sleeping Charlie was miserable after my games, but coming home to an empty house is a million times worse. It’s just Pancho and me. He at least keeps me company by lying next to the bathtub while I soak. I flipped on the TV in the bathroom, and lay there watching Sports Center. I’d much rather be staring at my hot wife.

  Jenny’s tried to cheer me up in her Jenny-like ways. She offered to take me to dinner. Who wants to eat? She rented a movie that we watched in the movie room. I couldn’t tell you what it was about. I felt like throwing a temper tantrum. “I. WANT. MY. WIFE. AND. KID. BACK!”

  I check the clock on the oven in the kitchen. It’s almost seven o’clock. I have a computer date with my girls. It’s pathetic how excited this makes me. I let Pancho out fifteen minutes ago so he could do his business, ensuring that nothing interrupts my time with my loves.

  This is the plan that Charlie came up with last night on the phone so I’m not so miserable. I’ll get to visit with Ainsley while Charlie gives her a bath, and gets her ready for bed. Then I’ll read her a bedtime story, before Charlie tucks her in. At least my daughter will be able to see me, and I’ll get to feel like I’m with my family. Or so Charlie says. Nothing replaces actually holding, touching, and kissing my girls.

  At 6:59, Pancho and I are in the kitchen at the counter with my iPad, waiting to get the Facetime request. At thirty seconds to go, I grab a bottled-water out of the refrigerator. At 7:00 on the nose, I’m sliding on to the bar stool, drumming my fingers against the counter, waiting for the request ding. Inpatient? Yes. FIVE DAYS WITHOUT MY GIRLS!

  At 7:10, I can’t wait any longer. I call Charlie. Brad answers, sounding slightly annoyed. “Hey, Brad. I’d like to talk to my ladies this evening.” See, I’m being polite.

&nb
sp; “Sorry about that. Ainsley made such a mess at dinnertime out of herself and Caroline that she just decided that the two of them would take a bath together. I’d bring her the phone, but well… you know.”

  “Yeah… Yeah… I know. Please don’t bring her the phone,” I say, with a little too much angst in my voice. “Just tell her that I called.”

  “Will do,” he says before the phone goes dead.

  I drop my phone on the counter and rest my forehead against the granite, banging it a few times for good measure. This sucks. I’m not an asshole. I know that Charlie needs to be in Houston with her family. They all need her right now. Ainsley needs to be with her mom, but at this moment I don’t care about any of that. I didn’t get married and have a child to not be a part of their lives.

  The silence of our home is deafening. There should be laughter, and baby giggles. Toys should be squeaked and rattled. Hell, at this point, I’m even willing to hear Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star on repeat. I miss the day-to-day routine that we’d fallen into. I’d even take tears as opposed to this silence.

  Standing up, I turn around in a circle, looking at how pristinely clean everything is. There aren’t any baby bottles in the sink. No toys on the floor for me to trip over. Charlie’s medical journals aren’t littering the kitchen table. Our home feels like a show house, one of those places that my real estate agent took me to view already-built homes. I half-expect to see images of some random family in the picture frames that are lining the bookcase in the kitchen.

  Picking up my water bottle, I throw it against the cabinet, feeling a little better as I watch the water race down the slick wood surface. Model homes don’t have water-stained cabinets.

  I grab Pancho’s leash, slip on my running shoes, and take us for a light jog around the neighborhood. Purposely, I leave my phone at home, hoping that Charlie will call—a bunch of times—and I will not answer. She needs to feel some of the misery, loneliness, and angst that I’m feeling right now.

  Petty.

  Yes.

  Bratty.

  Yes.

  Don’t care.

  Pancho and I complete about three miles. I know that he’s missing his morning runs with Charlie, and he makes me stop two houses from ours and remove his leash so he can run to the house, just as she’s taught him. He waits by the back gate for me to let him in. I get a twinge in my heart when he checks the cars in the garage, and runs in the house. “There’s no one for you to find, boy. It’s just us,” I say to him.

  The first thing I do when I walk into the kitchen is check my phone. There are no missed calls, but I did get a text from Charlie.

  Charlie: It’s been a hell of a day. Thanks for the flowers. I’ll call you in the morning.

  Fuck my life.

  Chapter Ten

  Charlie

  Wake up.

  Quick run with Miguel trailing me.

  Brad feeds Ainsley, while I take a shower.

  Get Ainsley clean from breakfast.

  Get Ainsley dressed.

  Get me dressed while I have my first cup of coffee.

  Drop Ainsley off at my mom’s house for Amy to watch her.

  Try to keep my father’s failing medical practice in the black.

  Deal with patients who are upset that my father is dead. Not my fault!

  Fight insurance companies.

  Calm a panicking Carmen that she’s not going to lose her home.

  Pick up Ainsley from my mom’s house.

  Feed Ainsley, Brad, and myself.

  Bathe Ainsley.

  Put Ainsley to bed.

  Collapse on the couch with Brad, and drink wine until my heart rate returns to normal.

  Give Colin thirty minutes of my night, even if sometimes I find it difficult to speak because I’m so mentally drained.

  Crawl into bed.

  Repeat again tomorrow.

  And the next day.

  And the day after that.

  Chapter Eleven

  Colin

  Charlie and Ainsley have been back to Dallas once since her father passed away, and that was for only two nights. I’m counting down the days until Thanksgiving. She’s closing the office for the week. I get my girls for eight days. Of course, I have two football games in those eight days, but I’ll get to fall asleep and wake up with the two most important ladies in my life—thrilled is an understatement. The word ecstatic comes to mind.

  Pancho and I’ve been spinning like the Tasmanian Devil through the house, trying to spruce it up. Alice is right alongside me, shooing me out of the way, but I can’t stop. It’s nervous energy.

  I keep reminding Pancho that today’s the day Charlie and Ainsley are coming home. By the time that practice is over, they should be here. Chef is preparing one of our favorite meals. Alice has brought a few of Ainsley’s most treasured toys downstairs so we can all hang out in the family room after supper. Jenny offered to keep Ainsley for us so Charlie could come to my game tomorrow. I’m hoping that we can decorate the house for Christmas while she’s here. This will be Ainsley’s first Christmas, and I want it to be perfect. Only Charlie can put those special Griswold touches to our house that makes it feel like home around the holidays.

  I make our bed, and tighten the sheets. Charlie likes the sheets tight. Pancho and I’ve been living a bit like bachelors, so I check under the bed to make sure that there aren’t any socks or dirty underwear that have accidentally wandered there instead of the dirty-clothes hamper. I discover one of Pancho’s rawhides. Charlie makes Pancho enjoy those delights only in the laundry room or outside. I pull it out, showing him the evidence of our bachelor ways. “Dude, these have to stay in the laundry room, or your mom is going to kill us.”

  Pancho hangs his brown-and-black spotted head as if he understands every word that I’m saying. He knows that he’s being chastised. He could be in Mensa for dogs.

  I go back under the bed skirt, looking for incriminating evidence, and find two random socks, and a pair of skin-colored G-string lace panties. They make a huge shit-eating grin spread across my face as my dick reminds me how they got there. Just as I’m bringing out the proof of my last tryst with my wife, Jenny clears her throat.

  I belly crawl out from under the bed before I sit up on my knees to see what she wants. Her hair is a very normal shade of platinum blonde today. I have to say, I miss the colors when she decides to go conservative.

  “You’re going to be late for practice,” she scolds. Her arms are crossed, and she’s leaning against the wall with a smirk on her face as she plays some stupid game on her phone.

  “Yes, Mommy dearest,” I reply as I hurl one of my dirty socks at her. I’m in such a good mood today that nobody can piss on my party.

  She lets out a surprisingly girly squeal, and ducks before my sock can contaminate her. “Colin, that’s disgusting, and you’re an asshole. Seriously. Are you sixteen? And now you made me lose my game,” she says in a huff as she turns to walk away, shaking her head. Then, she pauses. “Oh. By the way, Aiden called, and asked who’s coming to Thanksgiving,” she states without an ounce of concern in her voice. Before I can reply, she continues, “I told him that if he meant was Rachael going to be here, then the answer is yes. Not sure if he’s still coming. You might want to call him”

  I sit back on my heels and sigh. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  It’s been a year and half since Rachael told Aiden that she wasn’t going to marry him. They’ve seen each other twice. Once, when Ainsley was born at our two-week Meet Our Kid party, and at Charlie’s dad’s funeral. Both times Rachael was fine, but Aiden looked like he had a bad hangover. I don’t know what else to say. I’ve spelled it out for him: the girl you love doesn’t love you back. Move on.

  Even I know that’s much easier said than done. Exhibit A: My first marriage. Exhibit B: My overdose. Exhibit C: Sleeping with random women and Jenna.

  Just the thought makes me shudder.

  Jenny checks her watch, and from the safety of our
living room says, “Seriously Colin. Get your ass in gear. You’re bordering on tardy, and I’d hate to see you have to stay late today of all days.”

  She’s right. I’ll just have to trust Alice to debachelor my pad.

  ****

  The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results. That’s what I feel like I’m doing at practice.

  “Quit checking your watch, asshole. I’m going to think that you have a hot date,” the quarterback coach teases me as he hands me another ball to throw.

  I drop back and toss it as far as I can, hitting the upright. That was a long fucking throw. I even surprised myself. “I do. I’ve got not one, but two beautiful blondes waiting to welcome me home.”

  He laughs, and lobs me another ball. “Twenty bucks says that you can’t hit the upright twice.”

  Is he kidding me? I smirk, drop back, and throw the football. I watch it rotate through the air and hit in the exact same spot the last ball did. I’m on fire today.

  I lean toward him, making the money sign in his face while I do a bragging victory dance. “Pay up, motherfucker,” I taunt him.

  He laughs. “How about if I keep my twenty, and you can cut outta here a little early?”

  He doesn’t have to offer me that deal twice. I don’t even bother showering, just grab my stuff out of my locker, slip my wedding ring on, and head for Bertha. I say to myself, “Watch out ladies. Daddy’s on his way home.”