With my phone empty of notifications, I settle in, putting on a movie I haven’t seen in a long time. I’m finishing the glass of wine when my phone rings. Jason’s name is on the screen, and I panic, thinking something is wrong with Lennie.
“Jason?” I answer.
“Hey,” he says, his voice low and tired.
“Is everything okay?”
I can hear his heavy sigh. “Yeah. She's fine. The fever went down to ninety-nine, and she’s asleep now. Her cough is ramping up, though. I might take her in in the morning, depending on how tonight goes.”
My heart twists when I hear Lennie let out a cough in the background. Poor girl. I nod to myself before speaking. “Good. I’m glad she’s doing okay.”
“Me too,” he replies, his voice turning gruff. “I wanted to apologize.”
I pause before responding. What could he have to apologize for? “Apologize?” I ask.
“Yeah.” He briefly pauses. “I shouldn’t have bothered you earlier with my frantic messages.”
“Jase—” I blurt the shortened version of his name before I can second guess it. I used to call him that all the time in college, and now, things are different. We’re different. “Jason. You have nothing to apologize for. I get it. Sick kids are stressful.”
I can practically hear him shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have texted you though. I could have called my mom or something. I took your attention away from your own daughter.”
I stop him before he can say anything more. “Jason, please. Don’t apologize. That’s what friends are for. Andtrust me, I get not wanting to call your mom. Plus, I texted you first, remember?”
He lets out a heavy, soul-weary sigh. “I don’t want to be a burden to anyone.”
“Being a single parent is hard work on a good day. Just because you’re a single parent doesn’t mean you have to do it alone.” I repeat the words my mom tells me all the time.
The line is silent. “Do you feel guilty?” Jason asks after a long moment. “Like when your mom watches Presley, or you have to work and miss dropping her off at a birthday party or something? Do you ever feel guilty?”
I pause. Because yeah, I do. Every day. My mind automatically replays the conversation I had with Megan about this.
“Shit—” he mutters. “I overstepped.”
“No,” I interrupt him. “I was trying to come up with the words. I feel guilty all the time. It’s exhausting. Every bedtime I miss, or when she has a bad night because she misses her dad, and doesn’t understand why he’s not there anymore, I have so much guilt I swear it’s going to eat me alive.”
“God, you have no idea how good it is to know I’m not the only one.”
“Not by a long shot,” I reply with a laugh.
“None of my siblings or friends understand. I can’t talk to my parents about it, because they’d tell me they don’t mind watching Lennie, that they love her so much and are happy to help.”
“That’s how my mom is too. Megan tries to help and understand, but she has such a busy schedule, that I feel bad venting about how tired I am, when she’s literally saving lives.”
The conversation hits a lull, and for a moment, I’mreminded of our college days again. He’s talking so freely, something he hasn't done with me since we’ve reunited.
“We should probably set the girls up on another playdate,” he says, surprising me. I’ve been the one to reach out every time to set up a playdate. Never once in any of the time we’ve been going on playdates, has he initiated one.
“Yeah,” I agree. “Presley has been wanting to go to the splash pad now that it’s open. Maybe we could take them there?”
“Lennie would love that. She’s a waterbug.”
“So’s Pres.”
“My mom was thinking about taking Lennie to the Children’s Museum in a few weeks. Would you want her to take Presley too? Maybe your mom could tag along. I’m sure our moms would get along no problem.”
“That sounds perfect. I bet they’d love it.”
“Do you remember the night of the Christmas party?” Jason asks, abruptly changing the subject.
