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"James, I don't need an expensive vacation or pretty things."
She showed me a full smile and cupped my cheek. Her hand was warm and comforting, and my first thought was 'just like a mother'. This woman was created to be a mother, and my heart burst with pleasure thinking about how my daughter would be the center of her love. Maybe I didn’t deserve anything from her, but Chelsea did.
"Baby, I don't want your money or work time, although if I was a gold digger before, I did pretty well. All I want from you is a family. Our family and our baby girl. Take me home, Doctor Sullivan."
With pleasure. I nodded and kissed her palm and all my fear and doubts went away. Me and my replacement wife wanted the same thing.
If you could take a leap into your future, would you? This was how our cab ride felt, like I was time traveling through my twenties, walking to...where I was supposed to be. We didn't talk, but James held my hand every second and let me lean into him - on him.
I was watching the streets rolling past us, and with every inch that passed, my agitation grew. I felt like I was cheating life and somehow only getting the good parts: the perfect husband, the baby; but I never was a lucky person. I was never given something that was not earned, by fate or anyone I knew. My only fear was that God would have me pay for cheating and somehow taking the shortcut to this point, because this was how I felt.
"Hey, are you still with me, love?" James' deep voice pulled me out of my daydreaming just in time. I was very close to spiraling into another crying fit.
"Hm? Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking."
"Please, Rita, don't think too much. It's the doctor's advice."
"I just don't know what to do once we get there. Should I go to the baby, go to the bathroom to wash my hands? Oh, James, I don't even know where the bathroom in our house is."
With the corner of my eye, I caught the cab driver giving me a weird look in the rearview mirror, and I was ashamed of myself even though he had no idea what the hell was going on. Truth be told, I didn’t know much about what the fuck was going on with my life either.
James took my hand and placed a kiss on my palm. He always did things like this: a simple, loving gesture that threw all may fears and doubts in the trash bin. How the fuck did a walking mess like me trick a doctor - a doctor...of brains - to marry my ass? Did I have hypnotic sex moves or something?
I looked up at him and found the same calming smile, like nothing in the last three days turned his universe upside down. He had a child, a clueless wife, and somehow, he kept acting like I was the center of his world. I couldn’t stop wondering if this wasn’t harder for him than it was for me?
"Rita..."
"What?"
"You're thinking again. Relax, you said you liked kids, so just think about it as a friendly visit. What would be different if you saw a child in the park?"
"Umm, this is mine?" I said nervously, and he chuckled under his breath.
"You're cute. Just say the word, and we turn back to the hotel."
"No, absolutely not. I want this. I'm just scared I'll do something stupid, like give her the wrong milk or fuck up her sleeping hours." I paused and when I met his eyes, mine grew wider. "Or say fuck in front of our baby daughter."
"I'm lactose intolerant, so Chelsea's formula is the only one around in the house; the sleeping, eating and walking schedule is pinned on a wall in her room, and she's nine months. You have some time of unpunished profanity until she starts to pick it up."
And what about the other million things involved in raising a baby? I kept this question to myself so I didn’t add more to his plate.
I just had to hold on for a little while until my memory came back. He said it would come back.
The car stopped, and my soul dropped to the ground. James paid the driver, got out and held the door open, but it seemed like my emotions had crippled me.
"Love, come on." A big, warm hand wrapped around mine, and he guided me out on the pavement in front of a city house. We were on a street with many oak trees and flowers in front of the buildings...a family street.
"We live here?" I asked and gaped around me. This was very different from the poverty I used to see in Cuba. This street was cleaner than my father's garage.
"This house right here." He pointed to the huge building in front of us. It was beautiful, made out of red brick and covered in ivy, like one of the fancy old universities where they would never let me in.
"So, we have like an apartment...?"
"The whole building, love. Four bedrooms, but one is now a nursery, three full bathrooms and a lot of space. It has nine rooms in total with my office and the library, a fireplace in the living room and a lot of open space. It's good for a family, you'll see."
The scene around us was perfect; it was like we were on the set of one of those gum commercials where you see a perfect family, living their perfect moments...
"Wow, but James, this looks like a lot."
