Page 56 of The Infiniteness of Yesterday
Spencer crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall. “I told them no,” he mutters under his breath. “And to pay attention to her.” He flicks his fingers to Monroe. “Because that’s why we’re here.”
“I think it’s funny.” Roe gives a tiny shrug.
Spencer’s eyes slide to my neck again, his jaw pulsing in irritation, but he doesn’t say anything because he can’t. It’s none of his business and he knows it.
“I can’t help it when people recognize me.” His tone is defensive whether he means for it to be or not.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. The last thing I want to do is argue with him when Monroe has been injured and is in the fucking hospital.
“I know you can’t, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s completely unprofessional especially when our daughter has been hurt. This was one of my fears, you know.”
A look of pain crosses his face; one I can’t understand or decipher.
“It really doesn’t hurt that bad, Mom. And this is super cool.” She holds up her casted arm. “I can’t wait to have people sign it and decorate it.”
I spare a smile for her. “I know you can’t.” I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear despite her trying to scoot away from my touch. Only six and she’s already trying to dodge me.
I’m sure by the time she gets home from school tomorrow that cast will be loaded with half of her school’s signatures.
Looking between her dad and me, she says, “Can we go now? I’m tired of this place.”
We both give a chuckle, exchanging a smile between us. “We’re still waiting on the doctor, princess.”
She turns her big blue eyes to me. “Who am I going with? You or Daddy?”
I hear a tiny sound of pain come from Spencer and give him a peculiar look. “Doesn’t matter to me, but it’s your dad’s day with you.”
“Who do you want to go with?” Spencer asks.
She looks down at her knobby knees, her fingers skating over the blankets at her side. Indecision is written all over her and I feel like I’ve been kicked in the gut.
Spencer and I might have a good relationship, but it doesn’t change the fact that we’re her parents and not together, which forces her to choose between us.
Speaking up for her, I say, “Why don’t you finish your day with your dad, and I’ll see you tonight like we’d already planned?”
Relief is evident on her face and in the slope of her shoulders. “Okay. Dad, can we get ice cream on the way home?”
He laughs, ruffling her hair. “Whatever you want, princess.”
His eyes flick to me and we exchange a look, one full of pain and regret for our daughter, because she’s going to spend her whole life having to choose between us and that’s not what either of us ever wanted for her, but when you’re not together that’s inevitable.
The door to her room opens and the curtain slides back a moment later, revealing the nurse. “I have the discharge papers here. I need your signature here and you’re good to go.”
She bats her eyes up at him, tucking a piece of scarlet hair behind her ear. She’s completely oblivious to me standing beside my daughter, who as the patient, she should at least spare aglance to. I try not to be too judgmental because maybe if I met my favorite celebrity I would fangirl too, but Spencer is just … Spencer to me.
He signs the sheet of paper and passes the clipboard back to her.
“Um.” Her cheeks pinken. “Some of the nurses and I were wondering if we could get a group photo with you?”
I bite my tongue to hold back a sassy retort I’d probably regret later.
Spencer’s eyes fall to me before he answers her, pain etched clearly into the lines of his face because he knows how much I disapprove of this, but he’s a nice guy and we both know he isn’t going to tell her no now. His eyes implore me to understand as he opens his mouth and utters, “Sure, not a problem.”
I look away, not wanting him to see the anger on my face, but I know he’s aware of it anyway. It infuriates me that because of the path he’s taken in life we can’t even take our daughter to the hospital without someone recognizing him and wanting something from him.
Stuffing down my feelings, I turn to Monroe. Her legs swing back and forth as they dangle off the edge of the bed. The bright pink cast wrapped around her small arm nearly blinds me with its brightness and its clear reminder of our failure as parents to protect her from everything.
Even ourselves.
