Infinity(59)
Brad had fed Ainsley breakfast while I made love to my wife. In the shower… in the closet… on her too small bed… If it’s possible to store up sex like camels do water, then that’s what we were doing. Telling her goodbye when I saw the black town car arrive out front gutted me, because I didn’t know when I’d see her or Ainsley again. I still don’t.
Charlie is staying in Houston and working at her dad’s office until they can either hire more doctors, or they sell the practice. Apparently, Jack had not been as great with his money as Carmen had thought. He’d just taken out a second mortgage on the monstrosity house to fund the new rehabilitation equipment. That’s the equivalent to a financial ouch.
Miguel stayed in Houston to watch over my girls. There’s no room in her townhome, so I got him a hotel room near her place. He reports to me every day how they’re doing, and briefs me on any threats. The level of comfort this brings me is minimal, but it’s better than nothing. And the facts are clear, I’m far from over the almost kidnapping attempt when Ainsley was two-weeks-old.
Today was Charlie’s first day in the office. I sent her a dozen red roses with a note that says, Keep your chin up, Infinity. Colin. She knows that she’s lost the professional athlete patients. Her goal is to keep the active patients, and the practice going. I’m hoping that she finds another doctor soon, because this coming-home-to-an-empty-house is bullshit.
I roam through this place like the damn ghost of Christmases past. I feel like I’ve got a chain wrapped around me, making it hard to breathe. I’d thought coming home to a sleeping Charlie was miserable after my games, but coming home to an empty house is a million times worse. It’s just Pancho and me. He at least keeps me company by lying next to the bathtub while I soak. I flipped on the TV in the bathroom, and lay there watching Sports Center. I’d much rather be staring at my hot wife.
Jenny’s tried to cheer me up in her Jenny-like ways. She offered to take me to dinner. Who wants to eat? She rented a movie that we watched in the movie room. I couldn’t tell you what it was about. I felt like throwing a temper tantrum. “I. WANT. MY. WIFE. AND. KID. BACK!”
I check the clock on the oven in the kitchen. It’s almost seven o’clock. I have a computer date with my girls. It’s pathetic how excited this makes me. I let Pancho out fifteen minutes ago so he could do his business, ensuring that nothing interrupts my time with my loves.
This is the plan that Charlie came up with last night on the phone so I’m not so miserable. I’ll get to visit with Ainsley while Charlie gives her a bath, and gets her ready for bed. Then I’ll read her a bedtime story, before Charlie tucks her in. At least my daughter will be able to see me, and I’ll get to feel like I’m with my family. Or so Charlie says. Nothing replaces actually holding, touching, and kissing my girls.
At 6:59, Pancho and I are in the kitchen at the counter with my iPad, waiting to get the Facetime request. At thirty seconds to go, I grab a bottled-water out of the refrigerator. At 7:00 on the nose, I’m sliding on to the bar stool, drumming my fingers against the counter, waiting for the request ding. Inpatient? Yes. FIVE DAYS WITHOUT MY GIRLS!
At 7:10, I can’t wait any longer. I call Charlie. Brad answers, sounding slightly annoyed. “Hey, Brad. I’d like to talk to my ladies this evening.” See, I’m being polite.
“Sorry about that. Ainsley made such a mess at dinnertime out of herself and Caroline that she just decided that the two of them would take a bath together. I’d bring her the phone, but well… you know.”
“Yeah… Yeah… I know. Please don’t bring her the phone,” I say, with a little too much angst in my voice. “Just tell her that I called.”
“Will do,” he says before the phone goes dead.
I drop my phone on the counter and rest my forehead against the granite, banging it a few times for good measure. This sucks. I’m not an asshole. I know that Charlie needs to be in Houston with her family. They all need her right now. Ainsley needs to be with her mom, but at this moment I don’t care about any of that. I didn’t get married and have a child to not be a part of their lives.
The silence of our home is deafening. There should be laughter, and baby giggles. Toys should be squeaked and rattled. Hell, at this point, I’m even willing to hear Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star on repeat. I miss the day-to-day routine that we’d fallen into. I’d even take tears as opposed to this silence.
Standing up, I turn around in a circle, looking at how pristinely clean everything is. There aren’t any baby bottles in the sink. No toys on the floor for me to trip over. Charlie’s medical journals aren’t littering the kitchen table. Our home feels like a show house, one of those places that my real estate agent took me to view already-built homes. I half-expect to see images of some random family in the picture frames that are lining the bookcase in the kitchen.