Tina
I won’t say it was an awkward first date, but it wasn’t really what I expected. Then again, I’m not totally sure what I expected. I haven’t been on a date since the divorce, haven’t been on a date in years at all.
At 26, I’m not exactly young, but I’m not old, either. I just happen to be divorced already and have a kid. You might say I’m ahead of the game, in some ways. Maybe.
The thing about Landon is that he doesn’t make me feel lame for being divorced. He doesn’t make me feel like there’s anything wrong with me. Obviously, my marriage wasn’t perfect. We were pretty much doomed from the start, if I’m honest. Sometimes, I question whether I’ll ever be able to find love again. I wonder whether anyone will find me valuable and whether they’ll find me worth loving.
I wonder whether my son is going to have a male role model in his life.
I wonder whether my son is going to have a father – a real father – who loves him.
I wonder so many things, but when I’m with Landon, those questions just disappear. How does he do that?
Somehow, the two of us manage to completely devour two entire pizzas. We watch a movie, but we spend the entire film talking and getting to know each other, and it’s just so comfortable and wonderful.
Landon kisses me goodnight, but doesn’t ask for more. Part of me wants to invite him to stay the night, but I know I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t rush into things. I know I should be patient. Still, a little part of my heart breaks when I tell him goodbye, but he promises to call me tomorrow.
And then he’s gone.
And I’m alone in my house with my son.
I close the door and lean against it for a long moment, and then I just smile and smile and smile. Something tells me that everything is going to be just fine.
Everything is going to be okay.
*
Over the next two weeks, Landon and I start officially dating. We spend almost every night together, save for the evenings he’s tutoring. On those nights, we talk on the phone when he gets home. Landon and I talk about anything and everything: our childhoods, my job, his family, my family.
I return to work and my colleagues welcome me back with a surprise cake and a ton of balloons, which makes me feel special. It takes my mind off the fact that Blake is in daycare now, and it takes my mind off the fact that I feel like I’m missing part of myself while he’s gone.
Somehow, I find a new sort of “normal.”
I’m still tired a lot. Blake still doesn’t sleep through the night. I still feel overwhelmed sometimes. I still wonder whether I’m going to be a good mother.
But I’m not alone anymore.
And that’s kind of an incredible feeling.
Two days before the custody hearing, I go to work as usual. Time passes quickly. Landon and I text a little bit throughout the day and all of my patients are really kind and calm.
I work at a family practice clinic, which sounds like it would be boring, but it’s actually really interesting. Most of what I do is scheduling patient appointments, pulling charts, and handling billing issues, but sometimes I get to deal with insurance companies and patient questions, as well.
I don’t mind my job.
I love helping people. I like being around people. My bosses gave me a full three months of maternity leave. I used some of that leave during my pregnancy when I was on bed rest in the hospital, but having a full two months with my baby, Blake, was amazing.
Not all mothers have the chance to truly bond with their kiddos before it’s time to go back to work. Financially, rushing back to work is essential for most people. I feel blessed and lucky that I didn’t have to do that. I feel thrilled I had the extra time with Blake.
“Good afternoon, Miss Tina,” a little girl with brown pigtails comes up to my desk. It’s the last appointment of the day.
“Why, hello, Miss Polly,” I say. “How are you doing today?”
“Just fine, thank you very much. I’m here to check in for my appointment.” Polly’s mother stands behind her and smiles, petting her hair softly.
“All right. I’ve got you right here. 4:30 with Doctor Mortimer. Would you like a sticker today?”
“Yes, of course!” Polly jumps up and down and I hand her a fairy princess sticker. She places it on the front of her shirt and goes to the children’s play area to wait for the nurse to call her. Polly’s mother steps forward.
“How are you doing today, Bernadette?”
“Hanging in there,” she says. Polly has a series of chronic health problems, including severe asthma and allergies. Her mom has been through the ringer for the last six months trying to get her daughter’s problems under control. “But I wanted to ask how your baby is. I haven’t seen you since you had him.”
“He’s good!” I tell her. “Growing like a weed, as I’m sure you know.”
She casts a wistful glance at Polly, who is jumping up and down in the center of the play area with another little boy.
“I do,” she says. “It really is incredible.”
“I have a picture, if you want to see.”
“Of course.”
I pull out my phone and show Bernadette a picture of Blake I took just that morning. He’s in a blue onesie with matching pants and he’s got the cutest, tiniest little socks on.
“Isn’t he just the sweetest thing?” Bernadette smiles as she takes the phone from me and looks at my son.
“He really is. Actually,” I tell her. “Since you’re all checked in, I need to get going. It’s time for me to pick him up.”
“Thank you for taking the time to show me the picture,” Bernadette hands the phone back. “He really is beautiful, honey.”
I wave goodbye to Polly and clock out. Then I say goodbye to Dr. Mortimer and let him know I’m heading off for the day.
Blake’s daycare is only a five-minute drive from my office, so I don’t even bother turning on the radio while I drive over. I need to get there before 5:00 to pick him up, which isn’t difficult because my office is so close. When I pull into the parking lot and head inside, though, I immediately know something is wrong.
Something isn’t right.
“Tina?” Fawn, the front desk clerk, looks up at me. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m just here to pick up Blake,” I say. I hold up my little key-card to the sensor that lets me into the back of the daycare where the classrooms are, but before I can swipe it, Fawn stops me. She looks confused.
“But Tina,” she says. “Blake’s daddy just picked him up twenty minutes ago. He said you weren’t going to make it today.”
“Blake’s daddy?” I ask, my mouth going dry.
“He had a copy of the birth certificate and proper ID,” Fawn says. “You didn’t list him as an emergency contact, but he had the note from you, as well.”
I think I’m going to be sick.
Chester was here and he took my baby.