Myles keeps his mouth shut and I laugh. Myles isn’t interested in calling the shots, but he does like to be a fucker.
“I’ve got to get back to my kid. Call if anything goes down.”
I leave them to work out the finer details and head toward the maternity ward. I could walk this route with my eyes closed at this point.
I open the door to Annie’s room, and she’s sat up in bed. I wait for her to tell me she’s spoken with a doctor about treatment but it’s looking like I’ll be waiting a lifetime.
“How many cigarettes did you smoke? You’ve been gone ages.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. Something came up.”
“Something more important than me and our son?”
To stop this from turning into a shit show, I ask, “Has the doctor been in yet to talk about your treatment?”
Just as I suspected, her anger vanishes, and she swallows hard. “I have to arrange an appointment with the doctor in Oncology. They did say I can go home tomorrow but I don’t know how I’m going to leave our son.”
I go to see how she would react if I keep pushing but a part of me wants to see how far she takes this if I don’t mention it again.
Instead, I say, “I thought of his name.”
Her smile grows. “Yeah?”
“Wolf.”
“Wolf? Like, a wolf?”
I nod. “Wolf,” I repeat. “It’s a strong name for a strong kid.”
“I like it.”
I couldn’t care less if she didn’t. I’ll be the one to name my son and I’ll be damned if I give a shit what anyone else, even his mother, thinks.
“Can we go see him?”
Pushing out the building anger, I nod and help her out of bed and into a wheelchair. She smiles up at me.
“We’re going to be the perfect family.”
Playing the oblivious part, I say, “I’m glad you’ve changed your mind about hanging around.”
“I was crazy to think I could ever walk away from you.”
Sweeping her hair out of her face, lie after lie rolls from the tip of my tongue, “You don’t need to think about that again. We’re together now.”
Now would be the perfect time for her to mention her plan moving forward with her cancer but still, nothing. Not a fucking word. There’s not even a hint of fear on her face.
Before I give myself away unable to keep my face straight, I wheel her out of her private room. She’s quiet as we make our way through the corridors and into NICU.
I wheel her in front of his cot and again, there’s no fear of her dying and leaving him behind. She’s excited and happy. I watch her while the nurse helps her hold him and the way she strokes his head and cheeks and kisses him so softly her lips barely make contact with him.
It dawns on me that there was no way she ever planned on leaving him in my custody and now I’m left replaying the last seven months with her.
“Can you take another picture of him?” she asks.
I take out my phone and snap a few photos. It riles me that she’s in them. I still haven’t got her figured out but I know she’s playing me in some way.
“Your turn.”
