Page 50 of Hello Doctor

“Sure,” I said, trying not to feel rejected by my eight-year-old. “I’ll clean up the bowls out here.”

“Thanks, Daddy!” Maya said, wrapping her arms around me. “Goodnight.”

I kissed the top of her head and told her goodnight before letting them go together. This was just more proof that I couldn’t cross that line when it came to Liv. Now Maya didn’t just want Liv during the week, but the evenings and weekends too.

I took my time, washing the bowls and the pan of burnt popcorn, but when the sink was empty and clean, Liv still hadn’t come out yet.

I crept toward Maya’s bedroom and heard Liv singing the song my mom always sang to me. “Red River Valley.”

Moisture pricked at my eyes, and I covered my jaw with my hand as the words to the song came to a close. In the silence, I could hear Maya’s soft snores, and Liv said, “Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you.”

There was the soft sound of a kiss, and I squeezed my eyes shut against the sting of tears.

Liv tiptoed out of the room and stopped when she saw me. “Are you okay?”

I slowly opened my eyes, shaking my head.

“What’s wrong?” she breathed.

I stared at her. “Can’t you see what you’re doing to me? Treating Maya like a mother would?”

Her eyes searched mine. “What?”

I shook my head.

“Say it.”

“I...” My voice broke, and I shook my head. “I can’t.”

25

Liv

After a charged weekend with Fletcher, I knew I had to get out in the country with Maya and distract myself from the constant ache in my heart. Tubing sounded like a fun idea, so we loaded up my truck with a cooler full of drinks and food, aired up some inner tubes, and drove to the slow-moving creek near my parents’ house.

Since the river only went one way, we’d park the truck at a starting point and then Dad offered to leave a vehicle for us further down. We’d ride on our tubes until we got to the end and drive back to our truck.

The early August heat was already making me sweat, and I couldn’t wait to get the tubes in the water, but I slathered both of us with sunscreen first.

Maya pointed at my face, giggling. “You look like a snowman.”

I chuckled, pointing my finger out from my nose so it would look like a carrot nose.

She took my finger and pretended to chomp it, making us both giggle.

“This snowman is about to melt,” I said, rubbing in the rest of my sunscreen. “It is so dang hot.”

She nodded. “Uncle Hayes always says it’s sweating balls outside.”

I cackled. If Hayes were a few years older, he and Rhett would have been hell on wheels together, but he was five years younger than me and seven younger than Rhett. “Do not repeat anything at school that Uncle Hayes says.”

Her cheeky grin made me smile more.

I got the tubes out of the truck bed, handing her one, then grabbed my mesh bag, putting a couple bottles of water inside, along with some packaged snacks. I put a life jacket on her just in case, and we stepped into the water.

The cool stream swirled around my feet and legs, such a contrast to the hot and humid summer day. Maya splashed in less cautiously, romping around like a little puppy. She was completely happy, carefree, so different than the first day I met her.

She could be herself around me.

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