15. Cassidy

cassidy

. . .

I ’ve never been so sexually frustrated in my entire life. I’ve had a year long dry spell before, and it didn’t hold a candle to this. Travis has been gone for two, almost three, days. That’s all. Forty-eight measly hours, and I’m like a cat in heat.

After opening the bar and spending the day with Ingrid and the kids—and also taking much needed nap—I’m about to start my shift at the hospital when I have an incoming call from Dani. I help out from time to time at her floral shop; she has migraines that take her out days at a time.

“Hey, Dani,” I greet, sliding my belongings into my locker.

“Hey, I’m sorry to call so late, but do you think you could come by the shop tomorrow?”

“Oh, sure.” I spin the numbers to the combination on my lock. “What time do you need me to work?”

“No, no, I’m good, but there’s something I’d like to talk to you about and it’s better if we do it in person.” If that doesn’t ramp up someone’s anxiety, I don’t know what would .

“Of course, I’ll come by at opening.”

“I’ll see you then,” she sings and hangs up after we say goodbye.

I tuck my phone in my pocket and review the patient charts. I’ve been assigned to the postpartum wing of the hospital for the past few months, and while I love taking care of new moms, I hate having to wake them every few hours to take vitals.

After a quick round, I check in with my friend, Lucy, who is updating her charts. “Hey, Cass, your dinner is here.”

Dinner has been delivered to me since axe throwing. The first night was my favorite burrito from the taqueria, last night was pizza. At first, I thought it was Zack, but I don’t have the balls to text him to confirm it. Hell, it could be Caleb for all I know. “Thanks, Luce.” I peer into the large bag and find a to-go box from my favorite Thai place in Linton. I take the bag into our small kitchenette and pull out drunken noodles, yellow curry, and rice. There’s enough for the four nurses working and I send a quick text to let them know the Thai food in the fridge labeled “Cassidy” is for all of us.

Who the hell is sending me dinner every night?

The next few hours are rinse and repeat. There’s a fussy baby in room six, but it’s only because Mom’s having a rough time with her milk coming in. Ingrid had the same issue when she had her son, and I can’t imagine how hard it must be. The lactation consultant has done everything she can to provide her best tips and tricks, but my patient is showing clear signs of postpartum depression. I call her OBGYN to make sure she stops by in the morning. In the meantime, I assure her that she’s an amazing mom and I’m here for anything she needs.

An hour before my shift ends, her doctor pages me to come to room six. I tuck away my feelings as I step in. “Hey, you rang,” I joke, hoping to keep things light, since my patient is on the verge of tears. Her son, Caleb, is sound asleep, so I tiptoe into the room and shut the door behind me. I’ve shared with her that my brother has the same name and how strong he is, hoping it would help.

“I’m putting in an order for a low-dose SSRI for our patient, would you see that it’s filled today?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Great.” Her doctor leaves the room without another word; she’s a bitch most days, but I’m thankful she’s taking things seriously.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

She bursts into tears. “No, I can’t feed my child.”

I force back my own tears and sit at the edge of her bed to hold her hand. “Babies can feel everything their mother is. If you’re upset, he’ll be upset. Let’s take a few deep breaths.” I breathe in and out to model what I’m looking for. “Good, you’re doing so great. You love this little boy so much; I know it has to be hard on you and him. He’s used to eating whenever he wants while still inside you. Life outside is scary.” I glance at the crib. “Do you want to try skin-to-skin? If you’re not ready, that’s okay.” She nods, and I unwrap baby Caleb out of his swaddle and change his diaper. “Are you ready? Again, it’s okay if you’re not.” She nods again, and I place him on her chest, resting his head on her heart. “Such a sweet boy. Don’t worry about feeding him right now.” I stroke his soft head. “A fed baby is a happy baby. It’s okay to supplement with formula; whatever you’re comfortable with, we’ll make sure he’s getting enough calories. Right now, your only job is to let this beautiful boy know how much you love him.”

“I love him so much, but I’m not meant to be a mom.” She keeps breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth, but I ignore her comment. Based on her chart, the dad isn’t in the picture. I can’t imagine raising a child on my own. Ingrid was prepared to do it if Cay wasn’t ready to be a dad, but in case she knows my sister-in-law, I wouldn’t dare divulge it.

“Life takes lots of twists and turns. Take some time to love on yourself.”

“I just had a baby; I don’t want to be…”

“Selfish?” I ask. She replies with a nod. “You made this beautiful child. It’s not selfish to take care of yourself.” I should probably take my own advice, but when is there time? “I need to finish a round, but if you need anything, I’ll be here in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

She offers a sweet smile, then kisses the top of her sweet baby’s head. I finish the rest of my evening and pass off everything to the next shift, ensuring my new favorite patient has the best nurse on staff.

Once I’m home, I don’t have the mental or emotional capacity to take a shower. I rush upstairs, set an alarm for ninety minutes to leave in time to meet Dani. The moment my head hits the pillow, I cry.