“You heard it as a criticism. I’m sorry, Javi. I was just teasing—I didn’t mean anything by it. Finish the race with me? I can tell you all about Giuliana’s explosive poops this morning, if you’d like. Safe, stinky, neutral ground.”
So I stayed, with concerted effort. Running from pain before pain caught me had been what kept me safe from hurt for so long. Yet here I was, literally running with the first person to make me reconsider what my life could look like. It felt like a victory of sorts, and I wished I could celebrate it. But while we jogged and Gordo stayed true to his word, filling the conversation in with details about his daughter, I couldn’t help worrying…
Would the risk pay off? Or was I destined for heartbreak?
11
Gordo
I really needed another adult. I needed someone to ask, “Is this normal? What should I do?” But the only other person in the house was Giuliana, and she was screaming after spitting up for the tenth time in four hours. Her screams were piercing me, a wailing litany of you don’t know what you’re doing you’re failing help me daddy help me.
If this kept up, I was going to start throwing up along with her from all of the stress. She didn’t have a fever, but each bottle, no matter how low in ounces, was coming right back up. If I had a partner, this might not feel like such an emergency. If I had a partner, I’d have the space in my brain to stay rational and come up with a plan.
Instead, I did the next best thing: I called Christian.
“What’s up, Gor—Jesus, is that Giuliana? Are you okay?”
My voice cracked as I answered. “It’s been four hours and she throws up everything she eats and she’s miserable and I don’t know what to do.”
I could almost feel his shift into “doctor mode” over the phone. “Okay. Does she have a fever?”
“No.”
“Is she still having wet diapers?”
I wracked my brain for the last time I changed her. “About three hours ago.”
“Does it seem like she’s in pain?”
She wriggled in my arms, tiny fists flailing and mouth twisted in hunger.
“I mean, she looks fucking hungry, Christian,” I said, overwhelmed. Immediately I regretted the tone. I’d called him for help. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what she’s feeling, and she can’t tell me, and I just feel so alone, and—”
I couldn’t speak anymore, my throat tightening to choke down panicked tears.
“Have you called the pediatrician or nurses’ line?” Christian asked next.
I could have slammed my head against a wall. Of course I should have tried that first. “No, not yet, but it’s already been so long.”
There was a pause while he thought, and I was forced the listen to the ragged hitches in my breaths.
“Go ahead to the Children’s Hospital. At this point, it won’t hurt, okay? I’d come with you, but I’m on call and—”
“No,” I breathed out fast, feeling a rush of relief at being told what to do. “Thank you.”
“Let me know how it goes.” He hung up right after, having sensed my urgency.
“Okay, baby girl,” I said, more to reassure myself than my unhappy daughter. “Let’s get you to the hospital.”
It galled me that her first hospital visit since birth was happening while she was still this small. It felt like another concrete reminder of how much I was struggling with making it work as a single dad. A neon sign blinking, “This guy has no clue!”
I shoved things into her diaper bag and strapped her into the portable car seat. Shoes on, made sure I had my wallet, grabbed my keys, and we were out the door. My hands shook as I locked her car seat into place. When I buckled myself in and turned the key in the ignition, ready to peel out of the driveway, the engine faltered.
I turned the key again. Click. Click click click. That’s when it hit me.
The relay race.
I’d been consumed by thoughts of Javi after the race. He’d opened up a second time with me, and this time I’d managed to get him to stay. What kind of past left someone with such thick armor built around them? He reminded me of a wounded animal, scrambling from anyone who tried to get close. All of this and more had ricocheted and rebounded in my mind until I’d gotten home and realized I’d forgotten to stop for gas. My car’s gas gauge had been at E. I hadn’t