Maybe Now (Maybe 2)

I love how I feel when I’m near her. Full of adrenaline, like I’m in the middle of a nighttime skydive. But even though I’m full of adrenaline and I’m touching her hair and she smiled at me when I walked in the door, I can see in her eyes that my chute is about to fail and I’m about to free fall alone with nothing ahead of me but an ugly impact.

Her gaze flits away for a moment. She pulls her oxygen mask to her mouth and inhales a cycle of air. When she pulls it away, she forces another smile. “How old is your child?”

I narrow my eyes, wondering how she knows that about me. But the quietness in the room reveals the answer. Everything happening outside this door can be heard very clearly.

I pull my hand from her hair and lower it to her hand that’s resting on her pillow. I trace a soft circle around where the IV is taped to her skin. “He’s eleven.”

She smiles again. “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.”

I shake my head. “It’s fine. I wasn’t trying to hide that I have a kid. I just didn’t know how to bring it up on a first date. I’m a little protective of him, so I feel like I should guard that part of my life until I’m positive it’s something I want to share.”

Maggie nods in understanding, flipping her hand over. She lets me trace the skin on top of her wrist for a moment. She watches my fingers as they trickle over her palm, down her wrist, until they reach the IV. Then she looks back up at me again. “What’s his name?”

“Justice.”

“That’s a great name.”

I smile. “He’s a great kid.”

I continue touching her hand, but it’s quiet for a while. I don’t want to delve even deeper into this conversation because I know it’s going to go where I don’t want it to go. But at the same time, if I don’t keep talking, she might take the floor and begin to tell me, once again, why she doesn’t want any part of this.

“His mother’s name is Chrissy,” I say, filling the void. “We started dating because we had a lot in common. We both wanted to go to med school. We had both been accepted to UT. But then I got her pregnant senior year. She gave birth to Justice a week before our high school graduation.”

I stop tracing her skin and slide my fingers through hers. I love that she lets me. I love the feel of her hand wrapped around mine.

“It’s impressive that the two of you had a newborn in high school and still somehow managed to become doctors.”

I appreciate that she recognizes how hard that was for us. “There was a stretch during her pregnancy where I looked into other careers. Easier ones. But the first time I laid eyes on him, I knew that I never wanted him to think he was a hindrance to our lives in any way, simply because we had him so young. We did everything we could to make sure we stuck to our goals. It was a challenge, two teenagers trying to make it through pre-med with an infant. But Chrissy’s mom was—is—a lifesaver. We couldn’t have done it without her.”

Maggie squeezes my hand a little when I finish talking. It’s gentle and sweet, like she’s silently saying, Good job. “What kind of father are you?”

No one’s ever asked me to evaluate my own ability as a parent. I think about it for a moment and then answer the question with complete honesty. “An insecure one,” I admit. “With most jobs, you know right away if you’re going to be good at them or not. But with parenting, you don’t really know if you’re good at it until the child is grown. I’m constantly worried I’m doing everything wrong and there’s no way to know until it’s too late.”

“I think your worry about whether you’re a good father is testament that you shouldn’t worry.”

I shrug. “Maybe so. But even still, I worry. Always will.”

There’s a moment of hesitation on her face when I mention how much I worry about him. I want to take it back. I don’t want her to think I have too much on my plate. I want her to think about right now and right now only. Not tomorrow or next week or next year. But she is. I can see it in the way she’s staring at me—wondering how she could possibly feel okay with fitting herself somewhere in my life. And I can see in the way she looks away from me and focuses on everything but me that she doesn’t see herself fitting in at all.

She was already hesitant when she thought my biggest concern outside of work was if the weather was right for skydiving. And even though she showed up at my office today, ready to give it a chance, I can see that finding out about Justice has not only changed her mind, but filled her with even more resolve than she held as she was kicking me out of her house.

I release her hand and bring mine back up to the side of her head, running my thumb over her cheek in order to bring her attention back to me. When she finally looks up at me, her mind is made up. I can see it in all the pieces of broken hope that are floating around in her eyes. It’s amazing how someone can convey so much in one look.

I sigh, sliding my thumb over her lips. “Don’t ask me to leave.”

Her eyebrows draw apart, and she looks absolutely torn between what she wants and what she knows she needs. “Jake,” she says. She doesn’t follow my name up with anything else. My name lingers in the air, heavy with weariness.

Not only do I know I can’t change her mind, but I’m not sure I should even try to. As much as I want to see her again and as much as I want to get to know her better, it’s not fair of me to beg. She knows her situation better than anyone. She knows what she’s capable of and she knows what she wants her life to look like. I can’t argue all the reasons why she shouldn’t push me away, because I’m almost positive I’d have the same outlook if our roles were reversed.

Maybe that’s why we’re both being so quiet. Because I understand her.

The mood is thick in the room. It’s full of tension and attraction and disappointment. I try to imagine what it would be like to love her. Because if spending one night with her can fill a room with this much angst, I can only imagine that this is what the beginning of a maddening love would feel like.

I’ve finally found someone I think could one day fill the void in my life, but to her, she feels that by being in my life, her absence would one day create a void. It’s ironic. Maddening.

“Have you seen Dr. Kastner yet?”

She nods, but doesn’t elaborate.

“Has anything changed with your condition?”

She shakes her head, and I can’t tell if she’s lying. She answers too quickly.

“I’m fine. I probably need to rest, though.”

She’s asking me to leave, but I want to tell her that even though I barely know her, I want to be here for her. I want to help her cross those last several items off her bucket list. I want to make sure she keeps living and doesn’t continue to focus on the fact that she may not have as much time as everyone else.

But I say nothing, because who am I to assume she won’t have a completely fulfilled life if she doesn’t allow me to be a part of it? That’s something only a narcissist would think. The girl in front of me right now is the same girl who showed up alone to skydive for the first time this week. So, I will respect her choice and I will walk away for the exact same reason I was drawn to her in the first place. Because she’s an independent badass who doesn’t need me to fill a void. There are no voids in her life.

And here I am wanting to selfishly beg her to fill mine.

“You were on a roll with your bucket list,” I say. “Promise me you’ll knock off some more items.”

She immediately begins to nod, and then a tear slips from her eye. She rolls her eyes like she’s embarrassed. “I can’t believe I’m crying. I barely know you.” She laughs, squeezing her eyes shut and opens them again. “I’m being so ridiculous.”

I smile at her. “Nah. You’re crying because you know if your situation were different, you’d be falling for me right about now.”

She lets out a sad laugh. “If my situation were different, I would have started that free fall back on Tuesday.”

I can’t even follow that up with anything. I lift out of my cha

ir and lean forward to kiss her. She kisses me back, holding on to my face with both hands. When I pull back, I press my forehead to hers and close my eyes.

“I almost wish I’d never met you.”

She shakes her head. “Not me. I’m grateful I met you. You ended up fulfilling a third of my bucket list.”

I lean away and smile at her, wishing more than anything that I was selfish enough to try to change her mind. But simply knowing the one day I spent with her meant something to her is enough for now. It has to be.

I kiss her one last time. “I can stay until your family gets here.”