My vision glowed white with fury. Mel shushed me sharply, bringing her index finger to her lips, narrowing her eyes.
“Keep your fucking voice down Beck. We’re in a hospital and it’s early in the morning. People are sleeping.”
“Yeah. Sorry. I got a little carried away.” I scuffed the ground with the toe of my shoe.
“Listen, I know this is important to you, and rightfully so, but I need to focus on Sam right now. Can we park this, and I promise you we’ll pick it up later? I just really need to be there for him right now.”
I felt like shit. I’d known I was a parent for only a few moments, and already I’d failed at the first hurdle. Parenting was about putting somebody else first at all times, but my life until this point had always been about me. On the other hand, the irony of the fact that I wasn’t needed to “be there” for my own son wasn’t lost on me. I let out a sharp puff of air, and met Mel’s gaze for the first time since we’d stepped into the elevator.
“Okay, I hear you, but I would like to hang around for a while. It’s not every day you find out you have a child you didn’t know about, but now I do know, I want to be there for him too.”
“Look, Beck, I know where you’re coming from on this, and I get it, really I do. But try to see things from my perspective. And Sam’s. Just as much as you didn’t know that he existed, he doesn’t know about you either. He’s sick in the hospital, having just had a major asthma attack that his mother missed because she was away for work. He’ll be scared and upset, and generally very vulnerable. Now is not the time to be introduced to his long-lost father for the first time.”
After everything that had happened over the past twelve years, and even over the past few weeks, I wasn’t sure I could trust her for one moment. What if I left and never heard from her again? Again. It wasn’t a risk I was prepared to, or could afford to take.
“Jeez, you must think I’m really dumb, huh? I wasn’t asking for you to do the grand introduction right now. I just want to see him, you know? You don’t even have to introduce us at all. Maybe I can just put my head in the room and get a glimpse? I’ve waited twelve years to be part of his life. I won’t wait any more. Period.”
She nodded slowly in agreement, but I could tell it was the last thing she wanted to do. I kind of didn’t care. She owed me this, at the very least.
I’d sat back and left things in the hands of fate the last time and look how that had worked out for me. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. If she disappeared this time, not only would I never forgive myself, but I’d tear the city apart, Christ, I’d tear the world apart to find them, whether it cost me every cent I owned and took me until I breathed my last breath.
Mel
I continued down the hallway to Room 1421. Once through the double swing doors of the room, I hurried inside, spotting Kate next the bed on the left hand side. I quickly, made my way over.
Sam looked so tiny in the large hospital-grade bed, but seemed to be sleeping peacefully. The sight of him in these places always got to me. He just looked so vulnerable. At least on this occasion he wasn’t wired up to an oxygen tank, but when he had been in the past, the sight of the mask over his nose would always make me feel extra terrified.
Having children was nothing if not a reminder of how fragile life could be. So many things could go wrong at any time. Before they were even born there were so many dangers, so many ways in which we could lose them. Then was the process of giving birth, which was naturally fraught with danger, both for mother and baby. For those who managed to navigate all of that successfully, every day was fresh with new potential worries.
Of course, I knew it wasn’t healthy to focus on those things, to listen to the negative voices, and always think about the worst case scenario, but at times, normally late at night when I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t seem to turn those thoughts off.
Having a child with medical complications like asthma is an extra layer of worry. The events of the last four to five hours being a case in point. I went away, and the worst almost did happen. That was an everyday possibility for me.
I rushed to Kate, and she got up from her chair extending her arms toward me. I lunged into her embrace, and before I knew what was happening I was sobbing uncontrollably into her shoulder.
I thought it was more relief than grief, causing the outpouring of emotion. After the panic of the last few hours, I was so glad to be there and to finally see for myself that Sam was okay. Or as okay as he could be after collapsing while struggling to breathe, and needing to be hospitalized as a result.
Kate smoothed my hair, rocking slightly from side to side, muttering reassurances as she swayed. My focus hadn’t left the sleeping Sam the whole time, and I noted the pallor of his normally dark-olive skin, his thick crop of curly hair, and wondrously high cheekbones. Not for the first time, I mentally remarked on his striking physical similarity to his father. It was uncanny.
Speaking of his father, I had almost completely forgotten Beck’s presence until shuffling behind me reminded me that he was there. He cleared his throat awkwardly a number of times, which caused Kate to pull me away from her body, holding me at arm’s-length, and raising an eyebrow in question. I nodded, mouthing “I’m okay.”
She nodded back, indicating she’d understood my intent.
I approached the bed and my beautiful sleeping “baby” boy. Although he was clearly getting some much needed rest, and therefore I didn’t want to wake him; I stroked his head gently relishing the feeling of the soft curls under my fingertips, and planted a feathery light kiss on his ashen cheek.
Today there was no healthy glow. The pale sheen to his skin was testament to the severity of the asthma attack he had suffered. I was comforted by the gentle rise and fall of his chest—at least he seemed to be breathing easy. Kate approached us, squeezing my shoulder.
“He’s okay sweetheart, really he is. They only kept him in because they wanted to monitor him just in case of another attack. But he’s been fine, and they’re probably going to clear him for release in a few hours. He’s been asking for you, but he understands why you couldn’t be here before. He’ll be so happy to see you when he wakes up.”
Her words brought more tears to my eyes. One of the hardest parts of my parenting journey has been the guilt. I felt guilty about everything all the time: guilty about keeping Beck from his son, guilty that Sam was growing up without a father, guilty that I’d had to lie time and time again to Sam about the reason he had no father, guilty about working too much, guilty about not working enough, guilty about the amount of time Sam spent in the company of adults, guilty about the amount of time he got to spend with me. And here I was in the hospital with my sick child, flooded with more guilt. It was endless and exhausting.
Kate glanced to the back of the room and then to me again. I guessed at that point, I owed her an explanation.
“This is Beck. We were together when I got the call, and he kindly offered to drive me here. He knows everything now.”
I could see her trying to read me and the situation between Beck and myself. I gave her a slight, reassuring smile. I hoped she’d see in my eyes that everything was okay, and I had this.