Abruption (4 page)

Even with my baby girl in my arms, my pants got a little tight. Couldn’t help myself, a C-section recovery didn’t stop my wife from slipping on her designer skinny jeans two weeks postpartum. How could I be annoyed? My eyes locked on hers for a couple of beats before I gripped her chin and kissed her hard. Sighing into her mouth, I finally felt like things were going to be okay.
We
were going to be okay. Our life was on track.

“We did it, babe. First choice match,” I whispered against her lips. Britt blinked, her face full of confusion. She must have forgotten. My shoulders stretched wider with pride when I said, “Stanford. I matched Stanford.”

But this time when she blinked all I saw was ... disappointment. Now I was confused.

I wished I had more time to relish in the confusion.

Confusion was uncomfortable uncertainty.

Confusion was ignorance.

Cliché or not, ignorance was fucking bliss.

Britt popped my bubble and said in a rushed breath, “I’m pregnant.”

White noise fried the synapses in my brain. What. The. Fuck. My face must have read it loud and clear because she backed away.

“Shit”
was probably a less than stellar reaction to finding out we were expecting again. Fortunately, I only said it aloud once; the six other times were in my head. When I finished my
shit
chant, I took a minute to come up with something,
anything
, else to say. I was so bewildered I couldn’t even begin to read Britt’s face. I knew I fucked myself. Royally. My tail no longer felt tucked, more like surgically secured. With mesh.

“Listen, babe. I’m sorry. You caught me by surprise. That’s seriously the last thing I expected you to say.”

Britt wasn’t at the same loss for words. “THING? Really, Guy? Our baby is not a
thing
. Sorry to stomp on your thunder, but California isn’t happening, not now at least. We need to be responsible and think about our children.”

We need to be responsible
...

The white noise silenced and my synapses began triggering at warped speed.

“Are you kidding me, responsible? What do you think I’ve been doing? I haven’t slept in months—taking as many night shifts as possible to teach PA classes during the day—all to pay for Ingrid, our rent,
your
credit card bills, and my school loans. I can probably count how many times I’ve fed my own daughter a bottle or changed her diaper, because I’m too busy being responsible!”

“Lower your voice,” she demanded. The fire in her eyes matched my own, no doubt.

I looked at my angel sleeping tucked in the nook of my arm and tried to lower my voice. Tried being the operative word. “You stand there and tell me Stanford is off the table, something we’ve talked about for the past year, something we’ve been so excited about, and what I’ve been working my ass off for my entire life, and you expect me to do a fucking happy dance
quietly
.”

She crossed her arms under her tits and dug her heels in. She was not backing down. “Well, I’m obviously not going back to work. And based on the last pregnancy I’m going to need help.”

“Damn it, Britt. All you
needed
was to remember to take a goddamn pill.” I totally regretted it before it left my mouth. It was a total dick move, but it was the truth. She had me write her the script, for fuck’s sake.

One time. We had sex one damn time and I might have slept through it. I either had Hulk sperm or I was the unluckiest son of a bitch on the planet.

“Nice, Guy. Real freaking nice. Blame me. It takes two to tango, sweetheart.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that. It’s just a lot to take in.” I raked my fingers against my scalp and took a deep breath trying to relieve some of the tension, hoping a little extra oxygen would spark some rational thought. “Look, we don’t have to decide anything right this second. I get this wasn’t exactly our plan and the timing is far from ideal. Babe, I’m not even sure another pregnancy so soon after your C-section is even a good idea, but we’ll deal. Maxine was a surprise that I’d never change for the world. This baby will be amazing too. We just need a little time to process. This really shouldn’t affect my fellowship or our move to California. We’ll just have one more little one to love.” As soon as I said it, I knew I meant it. Wow, another Maxine.

“Guy, listen to me. You try to cover and play it off, but I see how stressed you are just with Ingrid. If we move to California, I’ll not know anyone and we’ll be stuck getting a live-in to help me. I’ll be alone all day with you operating to all hours of the night. It just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Look, I don’t want to argue with you, I love you. And you know I’d never let you be alone. I’m not going to lie—the whole Ingrid thing was an unexpected cost. But she’s great, you like her, she’s awesome with Maxie, so I’ve figured it out. We can see if she wants to come with us to California. Fellowship is only two more years, and my mother lives out there too. She’s chomping at the bit to help. And you not working, that’s only temporary. We’ll be fine.”

“Your mother lives twenty minutes away from Stanford. And to be honest, I’d rather have my own mother helping me.”

I had to be missing something; she was all over the place. Had to be the hormones.

“Your mother lives in New York and she’s seen Maxine—what—twice since she’s born? She’s not exactly the doting grandma.”

Britt smoothed her ponytail and looked me square in the eyes. “I want to move to New York.”

“New York? Britt, there’s no way I’m getting a fellowship spot for July in New York. Those spots are all matched already. You know it doesn’t work like that.” Holy shit, my wife lost her mind. She had postpartum/I’m-pregnant-again psychosis, no other explanation.

“True. But you’d have no problem getting a job.”

I felt it below the belt, a direct blow. “Excuse me?”

“I know you’d rather be a vascular surgeon, but you have a family now and fellowships are optional. In July you can be done. Residency will be over and you can start practicing as a general surgeon, making an attending’s salary. Two months from now, not two years from now.”

Rather be a vascular surgeon...

“Resort to lap choles and hernia repairs? Damn it, Britt ... I have spent
years
working toward this. Hell, do you even know me? It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

When I said my angel baby could sleep through anything, I was wrong. World War Fucking Three didn’t count. Maxine’s wail filled the already confined air space in our room. My lame ass arm bounce did little to quiet her.

“That’s your ego talking, not a
responsible
husband and father. You are still a surgeon!”

She may have looked and sounded like my wife, but I had no fucking clue who this woman had morphed into. That tension I was struggling to restrain threatened to burst. Forget barely recognizing, I was a stranger to myself right now. I’d never cursed at my wife before, and I’d certainly never yelled at her before.

“Just think, we can start making real money. Get a real apartment, real furniture. We can start our life. I grew up in New York. It’s an amazing city. Do you really want to live paycheck to paycheck for another two years? Because I sure don’t. And I’m tired of you always working. I miss you. Besides, if you really want to you can always go back for a fellowship in a few years, once we’re established. I love you more than anything. This will be perfect. Don’t you want us to be happy? Please, please think about it. For us, for our family.” Tears filled her eyes.

Money. It was never about money. I was realizing maybe Brittany felt differently. She might have had to make a few temporary sacrifices, but I’d never let my girls want for anything. They were my world. I got things were a little bit tight now, but we were far from destitute. And I was so close I could taste it. My dream was within reach. Being a vascular surgeon was all I ever wanted. Until I fell in love with my beautiful wife who gave me my perfect daughter. Why was she doing this?

I lifted my crying peanut up and kissed her sweet cheek. I met Britt’s glassy stare dead on and knew she wasn’t delusional; she had it all figured out. Her mind was made up. This was
her
dream,
her
plan. If I forced the issue and we ended up moving to California, I had a sick sense it would ruin us. She had no intention of going anywhere other than New York.

My family or my career.

One choice.

One that took absolutely no thought.

I just never dreamed my wife would make me choose.

Present Day…

M
y phone buzzed in my back scrub pocket, distracting me from the fact that I’d been waiting here for the past twenty minutes. What part of “I’ll meet you downstairs in five” was confusing? Heck, she was the one who offered. Choosing to ignore her passive aggressiveness, I pulled out my device.

Sissy, can I borrow $400? xoxoxo

I bit my tongue to avoid grunting out loud, thinking
here she goes again
. Without hesitation, my fingers got to work.

Whatever it is, we’ll talk about it later. I’m at work :)

No sooner did I push send, my little sister’s picture lit up my ringing phone. She was lucky I adored her.

“Hey, honey. Everything okay?” I whispered as I stared straight ahead at the bold red sign on the wall. Cell Phone Use Prohibited In The Emergency Department. Way to set an example.