I think about how to frame my words so I don’t sound completely selfish. ‘You’re going to miss out on parts of our child’s life.’ I hesitate. ‘Your work… the long hours, being on call and needing to leave at a moment’s notice whether we’re in the middle of a birthday party or at a sports game. You’re going to miss out on things. And I know it sounds selfish, but I really want you to be around. When I was growing up and Dad worked for the airline, he was always away. And you know yourself how hard it was for your mum to raise you on her own. Up until now I’ve been the one missing out on you – waking up in an empty bed, attending weddings and functions on my own, eating meals by myself when you’re home late or on call – and I’ve been okay with it because it only concerned me. But soon it’ll affect our baby too.’
Nick sucks in a breath. ‘I’m hearing you. I guess I didn’t think it was going to be too much of an issue.’
‘My dad used to be away for twenty-one days out of a month when he worked for the airline. I missed him, Nick,’ I say, handing him a stack of folded towels. ‘I know he loved us but he missed out on all the things – birthdays, his twenty-fifth wedding anniversary with Mum, Ryan’s graduation, Caitlin’s “epic piano recital of 1999”, my stage debut in the high school musical.’
A brief smile crosses Nick’s face. ‘Thought you said you hated performing in that musical.’
‘I did. But that’s beside the point. Tell me something. In all seriousness, have you thought about what our life is going to look like once we have a baby?’
Nick picks a towel up from the basket and folds it. ‘I think about it all the time. Sure, there will be some things that I’m going to miss out on, and I understand that it won’t always be easy for you. But you know what? No family is perfect. I never had a dad around, and my mum worked two jobs most of my childhood. She was hardly ever around and I turned out fine.’
‘What, so because I’m a woman, I can automatically do this?’
Nick tries to reach for my hand, but I scoop up the pile of folded towels and walk towards the linen closet.
‘That’s not what I mean. But it would be helpful if you could suggest how you’d like me to fix this,’ says Nick, trailing behind me down the hallway.
I squeeze the towels onto one of the shelves and turn around. ‘So, you’re saying it’s up to me to come up with a solution?’
Nick takes his time in responding. ‘Well, what do you want me to say? I could look at reducing my hours and taking on a teaching load. Is that what you want?’
Nick sounds sincere, but I know this isn’t what he seriously wants. He hasn’t worked this hard to move away from surgery and into teaching. Our marriage has to work around it, and soon, like it or not, so will our family.
‘No. Because I know you don’t want it. But I don’t know what we can do to fix this.’ I lean my back against the linen closet door to shut it and meet Nick’s gaze. ‘What I do know is that babies don’t like it when their fathers work seventy-hour weeks.’ Neither do their wives, is what I want to add, but I hold my tongue.
Nick steps forward and takes my hand in his. He kisses it and pulls me closer to him. ‘I might work crazy hours and occasionally forget dinner reservations, but I’m committed to our family. When I’m with you, I’m with you 100 per cent. I promise you I’m going to be the best dad I can be, Paige.’ He holds my eyes with his and lifts my T-shirt. He bends forward, pressing his lips against the bulge. ‘Did you hear that, baby?’
I run my hands through his hair. ‘Yes, we heard you. And you need to go check on that little guy at the hospital.’ I let out a small sigh. As clear as Nick’s words are, they aren’t exactly ones I want to hear.
Six
Nick
She looks different today, Will’s mum. For starters, her hair is styled, and she’s wearing make-up – lipstick, a pinkish-red shade similar to what Paige wears. She seems taller, not only because of the heels but the navy pantsuit.
We’re both standing in the hospital cafeteria queue. At this time of morning, staff flow in and out for their takeaway breakfast bowls, coffees and teas. I’m on rounds today, and then officially free until I fly to Singapore on Sunday.
A young guy wearing AirPods, even though he’s standing behind a coffee counter, calls out, ‘Next!’
Will’s mother seems unsure whether she should step forward first.
I take a step back. ‘Go ahead.’
‘Oh, no, it’s fine, I can wait.’ A pause while she maintains eye contact and recognition dawns. ‘Oh, you’re the doctor – Will’s surgeon.’
‘Yes. Nick, Nick Bellbrae.’
‘What can I get you?’ asks the barista.
Will’s mum steps forward, orders a coffee and then turns to me. ‘Let me shout you.’
‘Oh, not necessary, but thank you.’
‘Please, it’s the least I can do.’
‘Sure. Well, a flat white. No sugar. Thanks.’
We step aside to allow other customers to step forward, and she introduces herself as Miranda.
‘Miranda Addison?’
‘It’s Summers now.’
Of course. Miranda Addison. Minus the braces. And the weird bob.
‘My God, I think I know – knew – you,’ I say. ‘University – you went to Melbourne Uni.’
‘Yes! We took a couple of classes together. I think we had some mutual friends at the time – Lisa and Derek. I didn’t think you’d remember so I didn’t mention anything during Will’s hospital stay.’
‘I remember now. So, you’re a doctor? Do you work here?’
‘I transferred to psychology, actually. I think I’m better for it. I’m here for a job interview in the psychology clinic. I think it went well.’ She crosses her fingers.
‘Well, good for you. Hopefully you get some good news soon.’
‘Thanks. I’ve been a single, stay-at-home mum for the past year, but now that Will’s at school, it’s time to get back into the workforce.’
‘So how is Will?’
‘He’s great. Really great. I still can’t believe he got so sick that he ended up in your operating room though.’ Her voice goes quiet, like someone’s turned down the volume. ‘I should have listened to my instincts earlier. I felt so guilty about it having progressed so far, like I failed as a parent. Like I failed him.’
Unlike me, Miranda has nothing to feel guilty about. I wonder if I should tell her about Zac but then I think better of it. Some things are better left unsaid. Especially this.
‘You didn’t fail him.’
‘The main thing is he’s okay, I suppose.’
‘Well, let him know I said hello.’
The barista calls out our coffees and Miranda hands me my cup. ‘I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost him. We came so close to losing him, didn’t we? I owe you so much more than a flat white.’
‘Not necessary, really. It’s my job.’
What she doesn’t know is that patients like her son are the reason I’m here.