A Striking Resemblance

With both hands on my shoulders, she gently turned me towards the door and lightly slapped me on my butt. Shelley followed me into the house and upstairs to my room.

SHELLEY

I was sore the next morning by the time I got into my car and headed home. I parked, pulled my bags out of the backseat and turned towards my porch.

Dad sat there, his back against the wall, looking like crap.

"Hey."

"Hey," I replied.

He looked away from me and towards the yard. "I thought we should talk."

"Yeah. That's probably a good idea."

Getting off the ground, he stood and stretched. Grabbing both rolling bags, I slowly walked to the father that I had hurt so badly.

He followed me into the house. Leaving my bags in the living room, I headed into the kitchen.

"Thirsty?"

"Yeah, thanks. Water would be good."

I ignored his request, poured myself a water, and handed him a birch beer. He smiled.

"You stocking these for me?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, I keep them on hand for the other fanatic in Pueblo who loves birch beer."

"Touché."

He put the can on the counter and crossed his arms, put his hands on his shoulders and then twisted until I heard a cracking sound.

"What the hell, Dad? Are you seeing somebody for that?"

"Nah, it just creeps up on me once in a while, and I was sitting out there for a couple of hours. It's part of getting old. If it wasn't the back, something else will be biting me in the ass." He popped the tab on his soda and took a swig. "So, before we hash this out, I want to say something. We could go over this for hours and chase an argument round and round like a dog going after his tail, but when we strip everything away, the truth is that I was your father, you were my daughter, and I should've been there. That's it. Anything else is...what's the word?"

"Sophistry?"

He shrugged. "I was gonna say disingenuous, but whatever. I'm not saying it's an excuse or a valid reason, but being around an addict is never a good idea for a kid. Yeah, I'm still an addict, but you know what I mean. Someone who's currently using."

I nodded and tried to give him a little space to mentally stretch out. I didn't want to be on the attack. I wanted to let him breathe.

I moved to the counter before speaking. "Okay. I think that whatever frustrations I have are from unreconciled fears and anger from when I was a kid. Mentally, I get it. I'd like for that to be enough, but sometimes it's not. No matter how old I get, I'm dragging this emotional weight with me."

Dad took a moment to drink some more of his soda and was obviously thinking instead of just answering off the cuff. "If you think that we should speak to somebody, I'd go. But let me ask you this, is there one issue that is bigger than any other? Like, did something happen that I don't know about that was really big but I wasn't there for you when it went down?"

I shook my head. "Nothing like that. No big specific trauma. It is not like this is something that haunts me or has ruined my life, it just pops up every once in a while. I wish I hadn't said anything to Haliaka."

"I'm glad you did. If something's going on, it needs to be addressed."

I was surprised by how open and mature Dad was about all of this. He has this persona that he wears like a comfortable pair of sneakers. Sometimes it takes effort to look beyond that. As we sat there talking, I remembered that he wasn't in any way a therapist, but he was certainly an ally of those who needed help. When friends, employees and even strangers have addiction issues, Dad was by their side, making sure that they got the help that they needed. Maybe I didn't give him enough credit for that.

He continued. "So, there was no one thing?"

Raising my eyebrows, I took a deep breath. "Well, sort of. What you're telling me is that it wouldn't have been good for me to be around you while you are using. I agree and we could go back and forth on the bigger issue of whether you should have never been in that position, but I don't think that's what is at the bottom of this. What really gets me is nothing changed after you got clean. Most of that was while you're in Hawaii, right? So, by the time you got to LA, you could've seen me. You could've been there.

"You told me how you would show up at my soccer games and presentations at school and stuff, but you would stay in the background so you wouldn't be seen. You sort of say it like it's a saving grace, like, hey maybe you didn't know it, but I was always there. I'm trying not to be hurtful, Dad. I really am. I know that you were dealing with shame, but you were clean. So, to me, that means it was vanity. You were ashamed and embarrassed and didn't want me to see you. Well, that's bullshit. You chose avoiding embarrassment over letting me see my father. In what world is that the right thing to do?

"You should've swallowed your pride and been there for me. I didn't care, Dad. I wasn't going to ask you embarrassing questions. It didn't matter to me what you were wearing or what you did for a living. I just needed you to be there. A quick hug, a smile from my dad, it would've been enough. I wouldn't have worried about why I wasn't good enough and why my dad didn't love me enough to show up when other kids' dad did."

There were tears pooling in his eyes, and he looked heartbroken. "Shelley...Shelley, I...I don't know what to say. I don't have the words. All I can say is that you're right and I'm sorry. But what can I do now? How can we make this right?"

"I don't know, Dad. I don't think we need to do anything, really. A lot of this is just my petty bullshit that I should've gotten over a long, long time ago." My voice was hoarse, and my cheeks were damp. "Honestly, if I was in your shoes, I would've probably done exactly the same thing. Could things have been different? Sure. But we don't live in a world of rainbows and puppies. In the grand scheme of things, I've been blessed. I know you've always loved me, and for most of my life, you've been the best dad I know of. I think...I think they maybe just talking about this has helped. Just getting it out there, maybe that was enough. Are we good?"

He grabbed a napkin off the counter and blew his nose. "Yes, and no. Yes, in that we'll always be good. I'll always love you and I'll always be there. No, in that you're right. I should've also been there for that little girl, and that's a burden you're still carrying, and I can't forgive myself for that. Maybe it'll get better. Maybe that weight will grow lighter. Can I get a hug?"

Smiling, I wiped the tears from my face, walked around the counter, and wrapped my father in my arms.

Dad and I left it at that for a while. Things returned to normal and whatever pressure I had felt regarding our relationship slowly dissipated. Our conversation had yanked the plug out of an emotional tub and let everything drain away.

If we had needed therapy, either one of us could have brought it up, knowing that the other would have gladly participated. Thankfully, it never rose to that level. I think that merely having him acknowledge what I had gone through was enough.

Steve and I kept seeing each other after we returned from Santa Fe. He'd often wake up early, walk next door with some coffee he'd made, and we would sit on the porch to watch the sunrise. If Lucinda was fussy or boisterous, she would join us.

When I was done for the morning, most days I would stop next door and Steve and I would ensure that we started our day right.

Maybe Liz's partner didn't have the pull he thought he did. Retired judge or not, he didn't seem to speed up the process with Lyle. It took another two weeks before it was confirmed that he was being called to testify in his defense. They asked for my participation, and at that point, I was allowed legal representation.

It's a cliché to call a lawyer a shark, but Liz smelled blood in the water and relentlessly went after the attorney for the hospital. My relationship with Shannon had shifted. She was no longer a patient, and she wasn't just an employer. I considered her a friend. Knowing that she was going into law and that Liz was her mentor made me happy. That woman was the embodiment of competence.

Lyle wound up being censured. I had no idea what that meant in real-world terms, but it seemed to be a big deal. I couldn't have been happier. He had used me in his efforts to take down my colleagues in the union. The man was a smarmy and insincere con artist, and he deserved whatever he got.

Coincidentally, the strike ended at the end of the same week as the hearings for Lyle wrapped up.

Marianne wanted to take us to a fancy restaurant to say thank you, just me, Shannon, the baby, and the two sisters. I'd found out that while Marianne did the negotiating and talking about money, Liz split all the costs involving me.

It was a sweet offer, and was appreciated, but not what I wanted. I was feeling melancholy and preferred to stay in Gus and Shannon's cozy home and spend time with the baby. Bonding with Lucinda was one of the hazards of the job. She'd forget me quickly, but there'd be a piece of my heart missing what I no longer saw her so often.

Marianne reached out and touched the cheek of her granddaughter who was in my arms. "I understand. We'll bring something in. What's your birthday meal?"

Raising an eyebrow, I shook my head slightly. "Birthday meal?"

"You know any. When you're a child you get to choose what is served on your birthday. It could be whatever you want. For children maybe it's chicken fingers, for an adult, maybe it's lobster. What's your birthday meal, Shelley? Whatever you'd like."

I thought about it for a while. If we were in New York, it would probably be pizza, but not the type that she's thinking of. I didn't want that fake stuff that was overly sweet and had no real flavor. Nostradamus should've used Domino's as one of the impending signs of the apocalypse.

"Can we get Thai?"

"Absolutely."

I found out later that they paid extra to have it delivered from a place that was almost a hundred and fifty miles away. It showed up in Styrofoam coolers and was delivered by one of the chef's assistants. Marianne's extravagances never stopped amazing me.

I could be astonished by her lack of concern about money, but I couldn't fault her choices. The food was delicious. I should've left by nine, and I was still there well after ten.

I was holding the baby, trying to get her to sleep as I swayed back and forth in the kitchen. I thought of Steve and when he had found me doing much the same. I smiled as I looked down at Lucinda. Everything somehow felt right. The house was old and in a lower income neighborhood and it wasn't very large, but I loved it. It was comfortable; it was cozy, and it was incredibly well-maintained thanks to Pop and Steve.

I felt as if I was home for the first time in a long, long time. It wasn't the house; it was what it represented. I was happy. I was in a good place, and I would have had to think long and hard to remember when that was last the case.

Sighing, I walked to the other room and put the sleeping Lucinda down. I hugged the three women and smiled.

"You each have my number. I'm going to want phone calls and updates. Shannon, I'll meet you at the office for the pediatric cardiologist. Don't say no. I'll just ignore you."

She laughed lightly. "Okay. Thank you. It'll be easier for us with you there. I don't know why we're getting all maudlin. Steve is here almost every day. You're not going to be a stranger."

"That's true. All right, time to stop stalling. You're a lovely family and I appreciate your being as welcoming as you've been. I need to head home."

I didn't walk next-door that night. Instead, I did what I told them I was going to do. I got in my car and headed back to my place. It had been one of those remarkably clear nights where the air was crisp and had the slightest of chills. I drove with the windows down and in a comfortable confusion as I allowed my emotions to gently shift from one to the other. I was at peace, but a little sad that I couldn't vicariously live in that domestic paradise of theirs any longer.

When I got home, I opened all the windows, got the thick comforter out of the closet and lay down in my bed, staring at the ceiling. I stayed there, allowing my thoughts to wander languidly for hours. It had been a good night, a beautiful experience, and a glimpse into a life I wished I had the opportunity to live.

I knew it would happen intellectually, but I was always still disappointed that within three days of returning to work, I felt like I had never been gone. We had won. There was no question of that. All of our demands had been met, and the only concession that the hospital received was that everything would be phased in within nine months. Seeing as how they had wanted it phased in over three years, no one was complaining. Management wasn't happy, of course, but Steve's crew no longer had to be concerned about working overtime or crossing a picket line. The repairs to the power grid infrastructure was moving along quickly, which was something for them to crow about.

My life settled into a new normal. It was an odd amalgamation of my old life as a neonatal nurse combined with my life with Steve. With the exception of my betrayal by Lyle, the time of the strike felt like an idyllic break from my normal life. I was able to be a part of Shannon and Lucinda's life, things started between me and Steve, and I had what was probably the deepest conversation of my life with my father, helping me to let go of things that I'd carried since childhood.

I wasn't sure if it was due to missing the domesticity of Shannon and the baby, but I found myself pulled towards other friends who also had a rich family life. I spent some time with Aaron, my colleague from pediatrics, and his wife and son. It wasn't anything major, just dinner now and then and I went to a couple of their martial arts tournaments or meet ups or whatever they are called.

All of my earlier relationships with men felt shallow in retrospect. Even in my marriage, whatever was between us was a pale comparison to the passion they felt for his job. Things were different with Steve. Yes, it was certainly easier for us to get together. The man was working within a hundred yards of where I was employed. Our grabbing lunch or just something to drink in the cafeteria was easy, but he made a point of being there.

I guess it was sad that merely being there for the person you're involved with was a novelty to me.

I'd been working a lot. Why wouldn't I? Prior to the strike, I was picking up shifts everywhere I could, but picketing for a few hours or spending time with Lucinda and Shannon was far from stressful. I almost felt guilty for taking money for spending time with them. If I had been run down or exhausted from working extra hours, the strike took care of that. It had been like an extended vacation. The only time in my adult life that I had gone that long without working was when I left my husband, moved to Pueblo and searched for a new job.

I was happy, I was rejuvenated and I should've felt great regardless of how many hours I put in. That wasn't reality.

It felt like déjà vu. I was again in the cafeteria, laying my head down on my arms as I rested on the table. I heard something hit the table and when I looked up, I saw that it was Aaron dropping a plastic plate. He sat down and took his lemonade and salad, leaving me a Coke Zero and a sandwich.

"They were out of cinnamon raisin bread, so I was going to get one of the bagels, but they're horrible. Sorry, you get PB&J on white bread."

I sighed and then smiled. "Thanks."

"What's going on? You look, you know, exhausted. Not trying to be rude or anything."

Aaron said 'you know' way too often. It was a habit he was trying to break. For him to let it slip into the without commenting on it showed me how concerned he actually was.

"I don't know. I've just been feeling run down. I have no energy and I just feel off."

He gave a little head shake and raised an eyebrow. "You know, we work in a hospital. Were you aware of that? You know who else works in hospitals? Doctors and lab techs. Now, this part is really going to freak you out. Some of these people can actually find out if you're sick or not. Startling, right?"

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks, smartass."

He had one of the doctors he was friends with find me, talk to me for a few minutes and schedule a workup. I insisted that I was fine, but I could have it done at my convenience in the building I was standing in, so it wasn't worth an argument. Yawning, I went back to work and had a blood test when my shift was over.

It was nothing. It had been well over a month since we'd gone back to work, and I'd gotten a little soft. I just need to get my feet under myself. I was working, spending time with Steve and meeting up with Dad and Haliaka. I hadn't wanted to lose whatever momentum I had gained with my father, so whenever I had some free time, I'd stop by, and we'd have dinner or watch a movie. Yeah, I was fine.

That was what I thought until the doctor called me at the nurses' station and asked me to block off some time when my shift was over.

"I guess, but it's not a big deal, right? Everything is okay?"

"We'll talk about that when I see you, Shelley. We just need to talk."

When you work in a setting like mine, you have a tendency to lose perspective and forget how daunting it could be to have a doctor insist on talking to you sometime in the near future. I didn't like his being so vague. I didn't like it at all. As long as there were no issues, maybe that was a good thing. Being reminded of how a patient and their loved ones think and feel could never be totally bad.

Having to wait fifteen minutes after my shift ended to see the doctor didn't help my anxiety. The door to his office opened, and he walked out with a man, woman, and child. He shook the hands of all three and smiled kindly at the little boy. Like Aaron, he worked in pediatrics.

The doctor gave me a little wave, walked over, and escorted me to his office. He sat on the edge of his desk, which I appreciated. It made things seem less formal and more like colleagues chatting.

"Let's just get right down to it, okay? I'm all right. The test results were all good, right?"

The doctor looked pensive. "I can't really give you a definitive answer, Shelley. It's a matter of perspective. What I can say is that whatever's been bothering you shouldn't last more than another seven or seven and a half months."

A part of me knew as soon as he said those words. A larger part was confused. Maybe it was shock that wouldn't let his meaning sink in. "What?"

"Shelley, you're pregnant."

Why did he keep using my name? We were the only people in the office. Was he afraid I would think he was talking to himself? And... and...

"What?"

He was probably five or six years younger than I was, but he had a compassion that was often only found in physicians that had been practicing for decades. He didn't respond right away, instead he slowly took his glasses off and placed them on the desk before leaning towards me, a look of concern on his face.

"Shelley, you're pregnant. We can get a little more precise, but I'm guessing you're nine weeks along. Otherwise, from everything we could tell you're perfectly healthy. I'd like to set up an appointment for you with someone to talk about what to expect, nutrition and answer any questions you may have. Would that be all right?"

It still wouldn't seep in. "No, I think there was a mixup. I can't be pregnant."

It took him a beat or two to respond. "You mean you weren't with someone two months ago?"

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I had. That was when we were in Santa Fe. When Steve and I shared a bed, when he had too much to drink and neither one of us thought about protection. And now...how can I possibly be pregnant at my age? It was possible. Biologically, it was absolutely possible, but really? I wasn't twenty anymore. Heck, I wasn't even thirty anymore. How could I be a mom at my age?