Forever Loved (The Forever Series) (21 page)

The boy was three, Gavin had said. How had she gone so long without designating someone as the dad? So many questions. I pushed too hard on the pencil and the tip snapped off, leaving a tiny hole in the page. I set it down. “I think I’m done,” I told Tina.

Albert had also finished, dabbing the brush in the gray water, trying to rinse it out.

“I’ll take that,” Tina said, moving the cup to the sink.

Clementine punched at her clay, flattening it out on the table. Her banging fists sent vibrations through the surface. The three of us watched her a moment, intent on her work, until she realized she had our attention and frowned, covering the pink oval with her arms. “What?” she asked.

“We’ll start with Albert.” Tina pointed to his painting of the castle, waves now frothing up against the walls. The blue-gray ruins were cast in shadow on one side, and the blackness spread out in dissipating swirls, like dark spirits escaping. “What is this castle to you?” Tina asked.

“My heart,” he answered promptly.

“The empty ruins?” Tina asked.

“Full of ghosts.”

“I think most of our hearts feel like that at times.” Tina looked down at the image. “Is it how you feel now or most of the time?”

“I will feel this way until I die,” Albert said, his thumb tapping erratically against his leg.

“Was this castle once filled with laughter?” Tina asked.

Albert cleared his throat. “A long time ago.”

“Do you think you can find one small room in it to hold some joy? Just a tiny space?” Tina pushed the paper back at him.

Albert stared at the image, shaking his head, but Tina picked up a new brush, dipped it in the damp red paint, and passed it to him. “I think it’s already there. I think you refused to color it in.”

Even Clementine sat up to look as Albert held the quivering brush over the painting. I stifled a little gasp behind my mask. Tina had been right. In one small window, the shape of an empty hurricane lamp just barely registered in the deeper grays of the shadows.

“Light it,” Tina said, but I couldn’t see how Albert could paint something so small, so fine, due to the intense shaking of his hand.

He didn’t seem to think so either, but then he aimed, and the brush fell true, filling the space inside the lamp with a warm glow, the red blending into the gray. With another gentle swish, the color spread in a halo above the shadow, diminishing the dark in a rosy haze.

It was just one small window in a giant castle, but the effect of the small bit of red in a gray-and-blue image was to draw your eye and focus your attention. The painting changed completely in tone and meaning with that one addition. Instead of leaving you feeling desolate and alone, it gave you hope.

25: Gavin

We couldn’t pull this day off without Jenny. I waited downstairs in the lobby for her to appear in her Kermit coat. She would head up first and take Corabelle’s parents to the apartment, ostensibly to pack some things up for when Corabelle got discharged.

Then Corabelle and I would come down. We’d meet up with Tina and all go to the lab on the first floor, just outside emergency, to have the test done.

I didn’t know what Corabelle might say to Rosa, or what point there was to seeing the boy if he would prove not to be mine. But I wasn’t going to deny her, not now, now that she knew. And truth be told, I was glad to have her.

Rosa would be going back to Tijuana after this, although I didn’t know how she was going to manage the boy if her brother kicked her out of the apartment.

God, it was so screwed up.

I saw the pink hair bobbing before she even got to the doors. No green coat today, but a gray wool number that looked like something my mother would wear over black tights and boots. “What happened to you?” I asked. “You look like someone forgot to color you in.”

She spun around. “My grown-up-girl coat. My mother got it for me, thinking she could convince me to look normal.”

“It’s working.”

“Yeah, I figured I’d tone it down for Cora’s family. When in Boringsville, act boring.”

We threaded through the hallways to the elevators.

“You ready for your baby-daddy test?”

I shrugged. “I’m ready for this to be over.”

“Cora seems to be rallying. Her texts are all about the skanky ho and sending her packing.”

I smacked the elevator button. “I think that’s your spin on her position.”

Jenny pulled out a little mirror and poked her fingers at the corners of her lashes, where she had enough eyeliner to write the Constitution. “Too much?” she asked.

“It’s you.”

She snapped it closed. “True. And sure, skanky ho might have been my reinterpretation. But she’s definitely got your back on this.”

The doors slid open and a tall doctor poking at an iPad glanced up.

“Holy hospital beds!” Jenny said. “Can we get a room?”

The man’s face filled with confusion. “I’m sorry?”

I pulled on Jenny’s elbow to drag her to the back corner of the elevator.

“But I’m feeling sort of weak!” Jenny said.

I actually wanted to laugh, but I felt sorry for the flummoxed doctor. I couldn’t unleash the full force of Jenny on some unsuspecting stranger. “Remember the TA,” I said, nudging her.

“I’m into polyamory,” Jenny said, staring at the man’s shoulders. “We should ALL be into polyamory.”

The elevator lurched up, and I leaned forward to tap the correct floor.

“I’m going wherever HE’S going,” Jenny said, peering at the illuminated numbers.

“Not today,” I said, holding on to her arm when the doors opened and the doctor stepped out.

Jenny sighed. “All right, all right. I’m taking this one for the team. But I’ll be on the lookout for Dr. Malachi Patinsky.” She pulled out her compact to check her eyes again. “This isn’t the right look for the future Mrs. Dr. Malachi Patinsky.” She softened the hard edge into a lighter smudge. “There.”

I shook my head. “You’re something else.”

She snapped the mirror shut. “That I am. I’m going to have to start visiting Corabelle more often. Daily, in fact.” She stuck the silver case in her pocket. “You going to the star party tonight?”

“Not sure. Corabelle insists I go to class like normal.”

“You skipped this morning.”

“I know. I couldn’t make myself drive over there with this hanging over my head.”

“Makes sense to me. They didn’t talk about anything I couldn’t understand. So you know it was pointless.”

The elevator opened on our floor. “I think you don’t give yourself enough credit.”

She stepped out ahead of me. “I know. I just like playing the dingbat and lowering everyone’s expectations.”

“Somebody’s going to see right through that ruse.” We turned down the hall. “But probably not that TA.”

“Nah. He likes me dumb. But not Dr. Malachi. I would be smart for him.”

Corabelle’s door stood wide open. She was alone for the moment, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, dressed in the jeans and sweater I’d brought early that morning to spare her having to wear her mother’s clothes. She looked practically normal, other than her surroundings. This might be her last day. We were hoping.

“Where are the parental units?” Jenny asked, flopping on the end of the bed.

“Coffee,” Corabelle said. “They’ll be back in a sec.”

“Game plan?” Jenny asked. “Because there’s a doctor in the house I want to convince to come out and play.”

“I bet,” Corabelle said. “But he might not have enough time for you.”

“That’s why I’ll pick three. A man for every shift.” She twirled her pink hair thoughtfully. “Maybe a heart surgeon, a respiratory therapist, and…hmmm. An anesthesiologist.”

“That’s just weird,” Corabelle said.

“I like diversity.” Jenny jumped up and paced the room. “Okay, so I snatch the Rotheford clan and take them to your place. Let them pack.” She whirled around. “Anything I need to steer them away from? Porn? Lube stash?” She glanced at me. “Manly unmentionables?”

“Nope,” Corabelle said. “Just have them pack things in case I have to stay a lot longer. Be your usual Jenny self. Deliberate over outfits. Be annoying.”

“Hey!” Jenny plopped back on the bed. “I’m a curiosity. Never an annoyance.”

I grunted, and Jenny shot daggers at me. “You people do not appreciate originality.”

“I’m about to appreciate it a whole lot,” Corabelle said, passing her the keys to her apartment. “We need at least an hour. So no rush.”

“Got it.” Jenny stuck the keys in her pocket. “So you going to be all right? Facing the beast?” She looked back and forth between us.

Corabelle uncurled her legs and stood next to me. “We’re a fortress.” She tucked her hand inside the crook of my arm, and I held on to it. “Impenetrable.”

Her parents came back, and the room erupted into a chorus of introductions, air kisses, and over-the-top Jennyisms. I checked my phone. Five minutes until our appointment in the lab.

Jenny caught my eye. “Well, let’s get this show on the bandwagon!” She headed for the door. “I have to take my new favorite mom and dad to hit the town.”

When they were gone, Corabelle squeezed my hand. “Now we just have to make sure the nurses don’t try and stop me.” She moved into the bathroom to run a brush through her hair, frowning at the reflection. “I wanted to put on makeup, but that seemed too suspicious.”

I leaned in the doorway. “You don’t need it.”

She faced me, and in her expression I saw all the anxiety that I felt. “But she—”

I pulled her in to me. “She’s just someone I once knew. You’re beautiful. You’re perfect.”

Her arms came around me, and I hung on to her. In the mirror, her black hair fell down her shoulders, covering my arm. I examined my reflection to be sure no trace of uncertainty would betray me. This was just something to get through. It would go our way.

26: Corabelle

As soon as we had successfully passed the nurse station and gotten to the elevator bank, I pulled the blue surgical mask off my face.

“You sure that’s safe?” Gavin asked.

“I don’t care. I can’t handle it right now.”

He nodded, his fingers gripping mine. His face was unreadable. I wasn’t sure what the moment meant for him, how certain he might be that the boy wasn’t his. I imagined having his past meeting his present like this had to be difficult.

Tina waited for us outside the entrance to the lab. “Paperwork,” she said, holding out a clipboard. “I assume you want the accredited legally admissible test or you would have just bought an over-the-counter one at a drugstore,” she said.

“Yeah. I looked at those,” Gavin said.

“They take too long,” I said. “This is next day, right?”

Tina nodded. “And it will hold up in court if you need it. It’s $200. You have that?”

“Yeah.” Gavin took the clipboard. “Should we go in?” He took a step toward the gray door. Through a narrow window I could see a counter with a woman sorting through a stack of papers.

Tina stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Rosa’s already here. That’s why I waited outside. You ready for this?” She was looking at me.

I refused to let my chest get tight or for my breathing to be labored. “I am.”

“Okay, here we go.” She pulled on the handle and walked in first.

Gavin followed her, but I found my shoes were rooted to the floor. I had all these images of this woman in my mind. Spangly shirt, tight skirts, stripper shoes. I wasn’t sure how to manage the real thing, an actual flesh-and-blood woman who knew Gavin as intimately as I did.

Gavin sensed my hesitation and held open the door. “I love you,” he said, loud enough for anyone to hear it, and this was enough to force my legs to move again.

There was no mistaking who she was, because the line of chairs was empty save for one woman and a little boy. My throat tightened as my gaze moved between them. She had on a simple flowered dress covered in a teal coat that clashed with the print. Her shoes were worn and flat. Her hair, though, was lustrous, long, and black. I couldn’t miss the similarity of it to mine, and somehow this comforted me rather than make my indignation rise up.

She wasn’t beautiful, but she wasn’t plain either. Just a girl, a little soft in the middle, like I had been at first after Finn, extra weight quickly lost in the pain and misery that followed.

My eyes went to the boy, but this was so much harder that pain shot through my chest. He was small with such big eyes. He held a truck in one hand, bulky and plastic. The other clutched his mother. His hair was unruly and dark, covering the tops of his ears and touching the upturned collar of his puffy brown coat, a couple sizes too large for him.

I knew Tina and Gavin were at the counter, and my art therapy image was playing out. But it was all so different, Gavin at the desk and me facing this woman and her child.

She had not greeted Gavin but just sat in her chair. “It’s just a cotton swab,” I said, not even sure why I was saying it. “It won’t hurt.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“I thought it would be a blood test,” I went on, knowing I was rambling. “And I knew that would be hard, watching him cry. But it’s not. It won’t be.”

Tina turned to us and squeezed my arm. “You okay?”

“Yes.” I turned to her. “I’m fine.”

“Rosa?” Tina said. “You want to bring Manuel back for the swab?” She moved toward the corridor past the desk.

When Rosa stood, the boy seemed to panic. “No no no no!” he cried. She leaned down and picked him up, letting his knees settle on either side of her hips, a movement so natural for other mothers that it made my stomach quiver. I’d only held my son once. Just once. Long enough to watch him breathe a few last times. She had been holding her boy his whole life.

I felt my control falling away. I wasn’t going to be able to keep my emotions reined in. The tears behind my eyes triggered all the other sinuses to leak. My throat was gooey. I needed to cough. There might be gunk. I felt overwhelmed.

Gavin turned from the counter. “Hey, little buddy. Remember me? You’re going to be fine.”

Manual quieted, his head buried in Rosa’s hair. If Gavin went up to him, if he touched him, I knew I would pass out. I shouldn’t have come. I could not witness this.