Page 4 of New Year, New Baby
Even crazier, other men aren’t immune either.I enter a restaurant, bar, or gym, and dudes look over my physique with a faint cast of envy mixed with guilt.It’s not an illusion, my friends.You need to hit the weights like a maniac, run like a fiend, and focus on protein in your diet.
So yeah, no dad bod for me.I personally find those repulsive, and there’s no reason to sport a paunchy belly, or soft thighs.I like to keep things rock hard, solid, and virile.A man with looks, money and power?Irresistible to women, while simultaneously a threat to others of my sex.
Still, it doesn’t help to know that despite sporting the physique of a gladiator, I’m all alone in my home office, working at 9 a.m.on Christmas Eve.Yeah, it’s December 24 and when I look out the window, I can see soft smatterings of rain brushing against the windowpane as the tree outside rustles its leaves, swaying a bit in the wind.The gray fog of depression deepens, and I shake my head, disgusted with myself.What the fuck?Alpha males don’t suffer from depression.We fuck women to clear our minds, and then walk out with nary a care in the world.Or at least, that’s what happens in the books.
But life is more than a romance novel.My life hasn’t been perfect, and I’ll be the first to tell you that there have been a lot of curveballs during my years on this planet.The first was my career.I genuinely wanted to play professional baseball as a youth, but I busted my Achilles tendon during college.The doctors told me that no amount of surgery nor rehab was going to “fix” my problem, and my dreams of becoming a pro athlete were over.It was astonishing that years of practice and preparation could vanish within a few seconds, but so be it.It was also the first time major depression struck in my life.
But it evaporated with time.The silver lining of the injury was that it happened when I was a sophomore in college.Not only did I have access to the best PTs and doctors at the university hospital, but I bonded well with them too.In fact, I was inspired to change my major to chemistry, and to take the MCATs my senior year.Lo and behold, I excelled and entered the New Jersey Institute of Osteopathic Medicine, determined to practice medicine one day.
The other silver lining to my injury was that I met a particularly pretty physical therapist named Betsy while rehabbing my injury.Previously, I’d been a total horndog, as many baseball players are wont to be.But Betsy brought out a different side of me.She had big blue eyes, a gentle demeanor, and the sweetest smile this side of Heaven.She was a single mother with a toddler, but it was fine because her daughter wasn’t around much.The pre-school her daughter attended was close to where Betsy’s ex lived, and so the little girl was pretty much out of sight, out of mind.
Filled with new love, I married Betsy after graduation and entered medical school around the same time.My wife supported me through the grinding years of study; my sleepless residency; and finally, through certification and into professional practice.Betsy sacrificed a lot so that I could pursue my career, and often looked fatigued, with fine lines around her eyes and a tired smile.Her blonde hair started to go limp and then fall out, but I figured it was just the stress and extra hours at the clinic.
But it wasn’t.My wife’s fatigue increased.She switched from working hands-on with clients to a desk job behind the counter at the clinic.She also lost a ton of weight, and although we’d been trying for a baby, it was clear that that wasn’t going to happen.Instead, Betsy kept getting thinner and weaker, and finally, a specialist announced the bad news.My wife was suffering from liver cirrhosis, and it was at an advanced stage.There was no hope for her.
We couldn’t believe it.My wife was still young, and there was no reason for this to be happening.She didn’t drink, she exercised, and took care of herself.How the fuck did she come down with fucking cirrhosis?As a doctor myself, I went berserk looking for answers.I researched all the latest treatments, including gene therapy, DNA re-segmenting, experimental drugs, and even animal organ transplants.It’s sad, but I truly was desperate, and did everything and anything in my power to rescue my wife.
But there was no way to rescue her.Instead, Betsy grew thinner and weaker, her eyes going yellow as her skin jaundiced.Her bones seemed to protrude from her skin, and she lost so much weight that her forearm was the diameter of a popsicle stick.But Betsy was brave.Even through the medications that made her nauseous, not to mention the non-stop pain, she put on a brave face.She always had a smile for her daughter, even though the little girl didn’t fully understand what was happening.Betsy also always had a smile for me, despite the fact that my heart was breaking.
Things came to an end one fateful day.It was the darkest hour, and I held Betsy’s hand when she passed.My wife died in her sleep with a smile on her face, and when the sun rose the next morning, I knew a chapter in my life had ended.No longer was there a selfless, beautiful woman at my side.Instead, I was a helpless soul who had lost his North Star.
I went berserk again.I threw myself into a lifestyle that would have disgusted my wife.Yes, I worked non-stop at my practice, but I also began acting like a man with too much money.I re-did our townhouse from basement to roof, and filled it with trophy objects and artwork.I began buying luxury cars.I purchased slick designer suits to wear beneath my doctor’s whites, and dated women who were the polar opposite of my late wife.These were women filled to the brim with silicone, Botox, hyaluronic acid, and breast implants.They had artificially high cheekbones, and quite a few got “fox eye” surgery, which gives them a Spock-like look.Even crazier, Ozempic has only come onto the market recently, but I’ve already caught three women jabbing themselves in the stomach with the appetite suppressant.What the fuck?I don’t even like thin women, and yet these ladies were trying to get themselves down to the size of coatracks.
My late wife would be disgusted if she saw how I’ve changed.She would shudder with horror at the women I’ve dated since her passing because they’re Betsy’s polar opposites.But there’s a reason why I seek out shallow, superficial bitches, and it’s because I don’t want an emotional connection.With my current roster of ladies, it’s easy to walk away.There’s no guilt, attachment, or even friendship, truth be told.But the women don’t care.So long as I bid adieu with an expensive piece of jewelry, it’s all good.They got what they wanted (a taste of the luxe lifestyle), as did I (physical release).
But something’s changed recently, and that’s the addition of my stepdaughter to my household.Betsy made me promise to look after Nova the day before she passed, although the contours of that pledge were amorphous.There wasn’t anything specific, like “set up a trust fund” or “make sure Nova goes to college.”Betsy merely held my hand and said, “Please, Hunter.Take care of her.”Of course, I promised I would because I was heartbroken with grief and would have promised my wife anything she asked.
But my stepdaughter’s changed since those dark days.I’ve known her since she was a small child, but she was never around much because even after I married Betsy, Nova continued to live primarily with her bio dad, Burt.Sure, the little girl would come over, and I’d occasionally make myself available for visits to the zoo and the like, but it wasn’t often.Nova was Betsy’s child, and I wasn’t looking to be a father when she already had one.
Then, Betsy died and I saw even less of Nova.Sure, I sent Christmas and birthday presents every year to her dad’s house, but they weren’t much more than perfunctory gestures.Hell, I never even talked with the little girl on the phone.I just got thank you cards in the mail, and when she was little, photos of Nova posing with Santa.She was a cute thing with chubby features, blonde ringlets, and big blue eyes.I pretty much smiled at the snap and then threw it away.
But then Burt Callahan got a once-in-a-lifetime job offer in Dubai a couple months ago, and he couldn’t say no.I can understand.Dubai is a central hub in the Middle East, with its vast oil reserves.Plus, Burt’s been a chemical engineer his whole life.He explained that he could take his daughter with him, but he didn’t want to drag her away from everything she knew.As a result, he made a request: for me to house Nova for her last year of high school.It wouldn’t be a big deal.I wasn’t going to be her official “guardian” or anything like that.I was going to put a roof over the young woman’s head for her senior year as she finished up at La Salle in NYC.
Don’t get me wrong.I was going to say no.Even though I have a townhouse in the West Village with plenty of space, I’d been a bachelor for a long time by then.I wasn’t interested in disrupting my lifestyle, nor making any adjustments to my schedule.Plus, I was sleeping with a rotating cast of women at the time.Hell, it wasn’t even rotating.Sometimes, I only saw a date once before casting her aside, with no regret whatsoever.I wasn’t going to change my habits because I had a teenage girl living under my roof.
Yet Betsy’s words came back to haunt me.My dead wife appeared to me in a dream, literally.I was somewhere in the liminal space between wakefulness and sleep, a woman’s sweaty, sated body next to me in bed, when Betsy’s face appeared in my mind.
“Hunter, what are you doing?”she asked, her voice gentle.
Immediately, I was embarrassed.
“Sweetheart, this is no one,” I growled, scooting myself away from Roberta or Renee, or whatever her name was.“She’s not you.I don’t know her.I don’twantto know her either.”
My ex smiled sadly at me, her blonde hair faded and her face pale.
“No, it’s not that, Hunter.Iwantyou to find love again.I never intended for you to die alone after my passing.”
I straighten a bit.
“Really?”
“Of course not,” Betsy says.“You deserve to find a partner in life.But this isn’t about that.It’s about my daughter, Nova.You promised to take care of her after I was gone, remember?”
A wash of shame ran over me then, my face flushing hotly.
“Yes, of course,” I growled.“I remember perfectly.I’m sorry I haven’t done more, but Nova’s been fine.She’s been living with Burt, happy as a clam as far as I know—”
“And now Burt needs to move to Dubai,” Betsy said in a gentle voice.“He’s asked you to provide a home for my daughter for her final year of high school.Can you do that, Hunter?Can you make good on your promise to me?”
