Chapter 7
I can't take my eyes off the girl with the perfect blonde hair who has been wandering around the store alongside Mr. Blunt for the last ten minutes, examining every crack in the floor. Henry stands beside me with a humiliated look, occasionally glancing at her. She catches his glances even when she is turned away, as if she has eyes in the back of her head, turning to smile and making him blush. Why is she doing this? Why does she embarrass him, when it’s obvious she has no interest in him?
"Do you think she'll fire us?" Henry whispers, after receiving another look and, if I'm not mistaken, even a wink from the blonde.
"How should I know?" I grumble nervously.
"I hope she fires me." He leaves me stunned by his statement.
"What are you talking about?"
"It's probably better than her smiles," he murmurs in frustration.
"You'll get into college and it'll be really good," I try to cheer him up.
"It'll be really good, Liz? Like it was really good in high school?" The pain in his voice strikes me like a knife.
"We're not in high school anymore."
"I'll go to college and I'll be the oldest one there."
"And the smartest. They'll beg for your help."
"Like Colin begged for your help?"
"He stood by you more than once," I remind him. Not that I think he has forgotten. Colin defended Henry, and when he did I just fell in love with him even more.
"He was a really good guy, you know, before he . . ."
"Left," I complete the sentence for him. "He was a really good guy, before he left me pregnant."
"I would never do that," he looks down again, "if someone was crazy enough to want to . . ."
"Stop it." I ache at his pain. "One day someone will show interest and you'll have smart, beautiful children, and you won't leave her."
"You know as well as I do that won't happen." He chews his lip again.
"She'll come, you'll see, one day you'll come across her, and she'll be perfect."
"Danielle is perfect," he gestures awkwardly at the girl who today wears a white flapping dress that exposes a lot of thin legs.
"She's a monster," I laugh quietly.
“God, I hope she'll fire me. I hope you won't let me stay and make a fool of myself."
"You're not making a fool of yourself."
"You're nice," he whispers, "but I am making a fool of myself.”
"Someone like her should wish for you to want her."
"She must be eating men for breakfast." He laughs quietly.
"Spreads them like butter on toast," I happily agree.
"I'd love to be spreaded—” his hand leaps to his mouth as he open his eyes.
"Henry?" I don't know how to react to his burst of enthusiasm.
"I'm twenty-six, Liz, we both know I’ve never—”
"You don't want to be spread with Danielle," I insist.
"Easy for you to say. Colin and you must have been spreading everywhere. I remember how you used to look at him."
"And look where it got me," I point out.
"I'm willing to let her throw me away when we're finished." He laughs quietly again.
"No you're not." I shut up as the blonde and Mr. Blunt approach us.
"Elizabeth," Mr. Blunt turns to me, making my body tense. "Henry, I believe you've met Mrs. Cole."
"Yes," I reply coldly.
"Elizabeth." She hands me her hand again. Reluctantly, I shake it quickly.
"Mrs. Cole," I emphasize her name formally.
"Danielle," she corrects me. "Hello, Henry."
"Hello." He blushes beside me.
"Mrs. Cole and I are just summarizing the final details." Mr. Blunt takes the trouble to let us know.
"I promise we'll update you as soon as we can." She smiles at the two of us, her phone ringing. "If you'll excuse me."
"Of course," Mr. Blunt puts on the widest smile I have ever seen. Danielle takes the phone out of her bag and sends Henry another look, the only purpose of which is to make him blush. I stop myself from rolling my eyes as she walks to the door, the phone at her ear.
"Danielle Cole," I can hear her say, closing the door behind her.
"I assume the deal will close in the next few days," Mr. Blunt returns to the main issue.
"What about us?" I ask hesitantly. "She's going to fire us, right?"
"I'm sorry," he sounds sincere, "I don't know what the plans are."
"Wonderful," I sigh.
"I'll be in my office." Mr. Blunt leaves Henry and me standing in the empty shop like two fools who don't know what to do.
"She’s so out of my league." Henry finds it difficult to take his eyes off the door. As though if he looks at it long enough, Danielle Cole will come back inside.
"She would be lucky to be in your league."
"We have to go out."
"Danielle and you?" I'm horrified by the thought.
"You and I," he laughs," go out for dinner and pretend we're not the poor ones nobody wants."
And so, without warning, he sticks another knife in my heart. The poor one nobody wants. When was the last time someone asked me out? Probably a year ago. There was that guy, Jonathan. We went out to dinner, after my mother insisted and took Vivian over to her house. He was nice and polite, the kind who opens doors and pays for everything. The kind that laughs even when you're not really funny. But he had nothing interesting to say. We talked about my work and then about his. He was thirty-eight, his parents had died years ago, and for a moment I felt old. I felt like that was what I deserved, a guy in a suit who kissed me every morning, walked out the door with his leather briefcase, but never stirred my heart. The same heart that had trembled before. At that moment I remembered how it felt. How those butterflies floated in my stomach every night before I fell asleep. I remembered how another man's hand held me to his chest just after he was inside me, I remembered his kisses. And I hated him at that moment, hated him for not being forgotten, for disappearing and leaving behind a memory that my scarred body remembers. I hated my love and his lies and his breath on my skin, and I couldn't let a man whom I'll never love like that take his place. I left my broken heart locked in a box, protected from harm, faithful to the boy I loved and hated and thought I'd lost. And now the boy is back, but the lock has rusted and the key I threw away. The boy is back, and I am terrified he'll break my daughter's heart.
The door to the store opens and my mother stands in the doorway, panting and with disheveled hair, as if she's been running from the car.
"Where's your phone?" she manages to ask. "Get in the car!"
"What happened?" Pure panic overwhelms me.
"Viv fell, she's in the ambulance." I can't breathe. I quickly bend under the counter and pull my bag hysterically, throwing glances at Henry.
"Go!" he hurries me. I run after my mom to the car, fasten my seatbelt and open my bag in search of my phone.
"It was on mute?" I mutter, confused. "It's never . . ." How could I be so irresponsible?
"It doesn't matter now, Mrs. Robbins is with Viv."
"What happened?"
"She fell. That's all I know."
I stare out the window and try not to think the worst. If something happens to her . . . no, she has to be all right. She must be fine, because if she isn't, what would I do? The loneliness of the thought overwhelms me. Again I'm dealing with everything by myself, like the day she was born and all the days since then. She is my world, morning and night and everything in between. The best thing that has ever happened to me, and now something has happened to her, and I'm not by her side. She must be frightened and crying, and I'm not there to hug her. She needs me, and if my mother doesn't press the gas, I'll go crazy.
The ride doesn't take more than ten minutes. My nausea increases, my hands tremble. I focus on my breathing. In. Out. In. The car screeches in front of the emergency room and I burst through the doors, running to the front desk.
"Vivian Hart," I pant in front of the receptionist. "I'm her mother."
"The doctor is with her now. The nurse will take you to see them."
She gestures to a nurse in a white uniform and asks her to accompany me to the examination room. Inside, I find Vivian sitting on Mrs. Robbins' knee, crying. Her teacher holds a bandage on her forehead, from which a bloodstain emerges.
"Mama," she holds out her arms to me and I gather her up and hug her tightly. The bandage stays in Mrs. Robbins' hand, and now I can see the cut, right at her hair line.
"Oh, God, what happened?" I hurry to take the gauze and hold it tight against the cut.
"She fell and hit the corner of the table." Mrs. Robbins looks shaken.
"Are you in pain?" I put some pressure on the wound that is still bleeding.
"Yes," Vivian sobs.
"I know. You're so brave." I kiss her head gently.
"Mrs. Heart?" A young doctor appears in the doorway, a stethoscope hanging around his neck. His face is much calmer than mine, I can safely say.
"Yes," I reply. He walks in, and Mrs. Robbins vacates her chair, gesturing for me to take a seat.
"I have to go back to work," she apologizes. "I'll call you."
"I'll keep you posted," I promise. She closes the door behind her and leaves me with the doctor and the four-and-a-half-year-old girl who is relaxing in my arms.
"I'm Dr. Diaz. Please, have a seat," he gestures to the empty chair. I don't hesitate and sit down opposite him. His doctor's robe looks especially white against the background of his olive skin. "I checked Vivian." He smiles at her warmly, his dark eyes shining as he speaks in a calm, confident voice. "She was a true heroine, but I'm afraid she will need stitches. We will numb the area first so she won’t feel a thing.."
He wants to stitch her? I must be paling because the young doctor is quick to reassure me by putting his hand on my knee.
"Vivian is in good hands. Is there anyone you want to call?"
"No," I answer automatically. My heart drops, and I hurry to regain my composure. "My mother is here."
"We'll give Vivian something that will numb her a bit and we'll go from there."
I nod without being able to speak.
"Are you sure you're all right?" He pushes back a strand of brown hair that falls on his forehead. I nod again.
"My head hurts . . ." Viv mumbles into my shoulder.
"I know, I know, sweetheart, the doctor will take care of you," I promise and kiss her hair. She's all I've got, and when she's hurting, I feel like I'm hurting too. I'm not even sure there's room for anyone else, not at all sure that a stranger will understand the connection between us. Maybe that's why I chose to stay alone?
Our doctor leaves the room and my arms wrap my child into a hug. If only I could protect her better. If only I could lock her out of the world that is about to change forever…
Vivian sleeps. Her body looks tiny on the hospital bed. I stroke her hair, four stitches on her forehead. I allow myself to cry silently, allowing tears to flow. My mother went to fetch coffee, and the tension of the last hour finds his way out in the quiet room. I pull my phone out of my bag and dial.
"Elizabeth?" Colin sounds surprised.
"That's why I hate you," I whimper. "That's what I've been through in the past five years, when you were gone."
"What happened?" His voice sounds panicked.
"Vivian's in the hospital. Do you feel your heart accelerating?" It must be the meanest thing I could say to him.
"What happened to her?"
"Do you feel helpless, Colin?"
"What happened to her?" he shouts.
"She fell and they stitched her forehead." He can shout all he wants.
"Why didn't you call me?"
"Because you're not her father, you're nobody to her." I look at the girl lying on the bed. "You were supposed to be the one who protects her, but you couldn't even comfort her, you wouldn’t know how."
"Then let me change that," he bursts out, but he can't penetrate my armor. I hear him, but push him away.
"What for? So you'll hurt her like you hurt me?"
"Elizabeth, please."
"I was sitting in the examination room and the doctor asked if I wanted to call someone and without thinking I said no. We got used to being alone, only she and me. My mother brought me here and we didn't miss you." I turn the knife in his heart.
"Don't do that," he whispers.
"I hate you!" I cry loudly. "And I'm hurting. I've been hurting for years. I'm tired, I'm twenty-six, and I'm tired, it's not fair."
"Let me in, let me be in her life. Don't take it away from her, she needs a father."
"I needed a husband," I whisper.
"Elizabeth . . ." He seemed about to say something, but cut himself off. My eyes burn and I wipe the tears with my palm as Vivian moves in the bed, sighing quietly.
"I have to go. Good bye, Colin." I hang up without letting him add a word, put the phone back in my bag and lay my head on the bed beside Viv. Please don’t let her hurt her when she wakes. I'll solve the rest, one way or another.
"Elizabeth!" The scream coming from the hallway makes my body hysterical and I glance at Vivian who is still asleep. "Elizabeth Heart!"
My mother, sitting on the chair next to me, tries to stop me, but I shake her off and jump to the door.
"Elizabeth!" Colin roars, and I hear the commotion growing around him.
"What are you doing here?" I glare at the puffed-up guy standing panting in a tailored white button-down shirt and black trousers, giving him a threatening look. The two nurses standing behind him seem helpless against his size, especially with his sleeves folded in a way that exposes his tattooed, enormous arms.
"Are you kidding me?" he fires back. "Did you really think I'd sit at home with my daughter in the hospital?"
"Lower your voice," I strain between clenched teeth, staring at him with a look that could kill. "She doesn't know about you."
"And if you want it to stay that way, over the next few minutes you'll update me on her condition. Starting now." He dares to throw an unspoken threat into the air.
"Do you think that's what I need right now, to deal with you?" I turn my hand to him with contempt. My mother comes out of the room and puts her hand on my shoulder, but I shake her off again. He thinks I'll let him get close to Vivian? I glance over my shoulder at my mother, who is staring wide-eyed at the new Colin standing in front of her.
Yes, Mom, he's changed.
"Don't mind him," I respond scornfully to her catatonic state, "he has time to spend in the gym. Money too, don't you, Colin?"
"Elizabeth," Colin's jaw locks, his nostrils flaring. "Start talking."
"Remind me who you are?" I clasp my hands on my chest. Now I'll give him a taste, the power is mine.
"Mrs. Heart," Dr. Diaz comes out of the room next to ours, quickly realizing that he has a problem in the middle of the emergency room. He glances between Colin and me.
"Don't interfere." Colin stands his ground.
"And who are you?" Our doctor doesn't retreat, he doesn't seem alarmed by the size of my ex.
"He's nobody," I shoot an arrow straight into Colin's gut, which must be turning over now.
"I'm Vivian's father."
"And where exactly is that written?" I don't stop myself. He is about to find out there's a heavy price for his disappearance.
"Elizabeth," his voice sounds more and more threatening.
"I'm sorry, were you going to say something?" Our eyes lock, and his blue eyes are burning.
"Excuse me, Mr . . ." Dr. Diaz steps in my direction and stands beside me in a protective posture.
"Young." The doctor's movement in my direction seemed to raise Colin's nerve threshold to a new level.
"Mr. Young, are you the legal guardian of Vivian?" The wonderful Dr. Diaz isn't stupid, and he knows his work, thank God.
"He's not," I reply confidently.
"You're playing with fire." Colin gives me a warning finger.
"I don't think so," I shrug. "Are you leaving alone or should we call for security?"
"Lizzie!" my mother cries out. I guess the beefed up guy has more influence on her than me. She doesn't want to find out what will happen if he decides to use his muscles. I, on the other hand, am not afraid at all.
"Don't interfere!" I don't take my gaze off Colin.
"Maybe you should listen to your mother," Colin makes another futile attempt to get something from me.
"The days when you tell me what to do are gone," I sneer at him. "Are you leaving or should the good doctor call for someone to escort you out?"
"Mr. Young," Dr. Diaz interjects again, "I suggest you two solve this later. I have patients to take care of. Vivian is one of them and I'm sure you want her to get my full attention."
"This is far from over." Colin turns his finger again.
"Whatever," I wave him off. He gives me one last look, turns his massive back on us and walks agitatedly down the hall, slamming the wall hard on his way out.
Suddenly I can't breathe. The adrenaline evaporates at once. I fall to my knees, my strength gone. Dr. Diaz quickly puts his hand on my shoulder, presses his fingers on it, while I'm struggling for the next breath. What will Colin do now?
Later, in the house, I leave the bedroom door open a little so I can hear Vivian and sit down at the dining table in front of the cup of coffee Mom made me. Completely shaken by everything that happened, I sip and confess. "I called him when she was out."
"That's how he knew where you were."
"Yes," I lower my head. "And I hate who I've become. I called him to hurt him." You were upset.
"Don't make excuses for me." I know I was upset, and still I loathe what's been coming out of me in recent weeks. It's not me, that's not how I was raised and not who I want to be. What happened today, the way I responded and the terrible phone call I made, reveal aspects of me I don't like.
My daughter has a father. I can hate him 'till tomorrow, and that fact won't change. I have to start internalizing it, before I become a bitter monster and lose whoever I am in this storm.
"Elizabeth," my mother puts her hand on my forearm. "What do you want?"
"I have no idea," I shake my head.
"To punish him?"
"Sometimes. Does it make me a terrible person that I want to punish him for what he did to me?"
"Even if Viv will be the one to pay the price?" she challenges me.
"I want the life he promised me," my voice cracks."
"You can't have it. What you can have is a chance, a chance that your child will have a father, a chance that he will stay, a chance that he will be a good dad."
"A risk," I correct her.
"Take it. You won't forgive yourself if you chase him away."
"If he hurts her he's dead," I counter. "He won't hurt you unless you let him."
"I was talking about Viv." I raise my head and stare at my mom.
"And I was talking about you." She doesn't fold in front of my penetrating gaze. "I may be old, but I'm not stupid. I'm your mother, and I know you. You're afraid to let him get close."
"Don't be ridiculous," I snort. "I hate him."
"There's a thin line . . . your history haunts you."
"Bullshit." She won't sell me that cliché about the thin line between love and hate. I know what I feel.
"Give me the name of one guy who took his place in the last four years, and I'll leave the subject." She insists on proving her stupid point.
I raise my hand in a dismissive gesture, "Who had time? I wasn't free to have a relationship, and you know it."
"I was talking about your bed."
"I have a four year old in my bedroom." What does she think I can do there?
"Ever heard of a babysitter?" she rolls her eyes. "You had one man. One. Deep down you waited for him."
"You should see a doctor," I dismiss her. I didn't wait for anyone. At first, maybe. In the months after Vivian was born, sure. I thought he'd come back, but it was a long time ago, and I've learned not to wait any longer and live my life. If I had no one else, it's because…
"When you stop lying to yourself, you can let him come closer." My mother stands up and then leans over and kisses my head. "Call if you need me."
I put my hands on the table and lower my head on them, closing my eyes. It's so much easier to look in from the outside and judge. Easier to give advice when it's not your life that's about to change.
Colin Young: I hope you have a good lawyer.
An incoming message beeps at ten-thirty, as I sit next to Vivian and watch her sleep. I walk quietly out of the bedroom, pour myself a glass of wine and fiddle with the phone between my fingers.
I didn't really believe I’d startled him, but now I'm about to find out the price of the war.I sit down on the couch and dial in an attempt to soothe my heartbeat.
"Colin?" I ask, when I think he answers the call without saying a word.
"How can I help you?" His voice is cold and distant.
"Listen—”
"You listen now," he says angrily. "You can be as angry as you want, but once you say she ain't my daughter—”
"That's not what I said," I defend myself without success.
"That's exactly what you said!" he raises his voice in a roar.
"You surprised me, from the moment you came back, all you do is surprise me. You sat in your car, in front of my parent's house…do you know what would have happened if my dad had seen you?"
"I don't give a shit about your father," he replies angrily.
"I do. He's Vivian's grandfather, you can't just show up everywhere."
"If you'd meet me, I wouldn't have to show up," he emphasizes the words.
"Colin, please," I sigh in frustration.
"Do you want to give me your lawyer's phone number or make the effort and meet me?"
His request makes my heart drop and find a place somewhere at my feet. Can I even sit down and talk to him? How terrible would it be? How painful? Sitting in front of the guy who abandoned me and didn't even bother to apologize?
"Are you there?"
"I'm here," I whisper.
"How's Vivian doing?" His voice loses some of the toughness he shows me. I can tell him, it's probably better than a letter from his lawyer. If we get into a legal battle, all the money he gave me will be lost. Viv's future will go to hell, and I want to keep the money. God only knows when I'll need it. "She slept for most of the afternoon," I update him quietly. "I guess she'll be okay tomorrow."
"What did the doctor say?"
"The usual instructions, not to wet the seams in the first twenty-four hours, to keep her from going wild. That's not a problem."
"She's four and a half." He doubts my words.
"She's not too naughty, she's a good girl." And if you'd stayed, you'd know that. You would know how wonderful she is, smart, stubborn, and how loved she is.
"She's your daughter." He knows the stories about my childhood. I was a geek from the day I was born.
"She looks like you. A small, accurate copy of yours." He already knows that. He discovered it alone when he sat in the car and watched us. What if that wasn't the first time? What if he's been following us for weeks, months? Maybe he's even been photographing me, collecting information for the law-suit he's going to bring down on me. If he tries to portray me as an incompetent mother, I'll kill him.
"Does that make you angry?" Colin's hesitant voice forces me to put aside for a moment the growing anxiety in my heart. "When you look at her?"
"No. She's not at fault." It's just hard on things, that's all.
"Do you think you can send me a picture of her?" His request makes me miss another beat.
If he's serious, he'll find a way, and that won't be your way. My mother's words echo in my head. If he wants to see her picture, he will find the way to get one. At least this way I'll have some control over the matter.
"Hold on," I move the phone from my ear, go into the pictures gallery and choose one: Vivian playing in the sandbox, looking at the camera and smiling broadly. Her hair shines in the sun and her blue eyes fill the screen. I send the picture and return to the conversation.
"Colin?" I ask after a few seconds of silence.
"I'm here," he answers. I think he put the conversation on speaker, probably staring at the picture.
"She's stunning, isn't she?"
"Yes," he mumbles hoarsely.
"You killed me, Colin. Piece by piece. If I had not been pregnant I wouldn't have survived it."
"I am asking again, meet me." Again his voice stabilizes, increasing the distance between us.
"I need to stay with Vivian at home tomorrow. I can meet you Thursday at four. I can ask my mother to pick up Viv so we’ll have time."
"Where?" he asks immediately.
"There's a place, not far from my work, a small café. We can sit there quietly."
"I'll be there, send me the address."
"I need to check on Vivian."
"I'll see you on Thursday."
"Good night, Colin."
"Good night, Elizabeth." He hangs up the call, I lean back and sip my wine. Did I just make the biggest mistake of my life?