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“Whatever it is, if you could take it down to Melody at James Cochran’s office, I’d appreciate it. Just a little swamped at the moment.” I’m sure I look like I’m full of shit, but hey. It’s my first day. But the person just coughs again, and doesn’t move.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that. You’re Mr. Pierce Cochran, correct? Mr. Pierce John Cochran?”
I finally look up, and when I do, I’m not entirely sure what to make of the scene that lays before me. A man stands in my doorway, a chubby man i
n an ill-fitting suit with the twirled mustache of a cartoon villain. And he’s holding a little girl. She’s somewhere between one and two years old, and she has curly blonde ringlets, and huge green eyes. Eyes that look a lot like my own.
“I am. I mean. Yes? The company daycare is on the third floor. I’m not sure what I can do for you up here.” Even as I say the words, I know that’s not why this man is here. Everything in my heart is telling me that my day is about to get a lot more complicated than dropped phone calls and missed staff meetings. The man walks into my office and sits down without being asked, as the little girl smiles and giggles in his lap. He looks equal parts exhausted and amused.
“Mr. Cochran. My name is Roger Bailey and I am a private practice attorney that handles mostly real estate and the occasional wills and trusts. But recently, I had a new client come to me with a very interesting request, and given the nature of that request, and the timeliness of it, I couldn’t turn them down. So, Mr. Cochran, here we are.”
I try to remain calm, and focus on the lawyer, instead of the little girl, who I swear is looking straight through to my soul. “And may I ask who exactly the other half of ‘we’ is?”
He bounces the little girl on his knee, and she laughs in a way that feels familiar, yet entirely foreign. “This is Chloe Louise Cochran, your daughter.”
The silence that fills the room is louder than anything I could possibly say. I’m not even sure how long I am sitting there, just staring at the little girl. Eventually, the lawyer gets impatient and clears his throat. “Mr. Cochran?”
“My daughter? That’s ridiculous. She’s what? Two-years-old? Where has she been all this time? Who is her mother? And how do I know I’m really her father? This could be a shake-down.”
Bailey reaches into the briefcase at his side and pulls out a stack of papers, sliding them across the desk to me. “Ridiculous or not, Mr. Cochran, it’s the truth. You are welcome to have a DNA test conducted to prove parentage but I’m sure you’ll find that everything is in order. As far as the identity of little Chloe’s mother, I’m afraid that’s confidential.”
“Confidential? What the hell do you mean confidential? You have to tell me who her mother is!”
Bailey points to the paper at the top of the stack. “I don’t, actually. You see, the mother was in a very… precarious position that left her unable to care for the girl, and it was her wish that Chloe be allowed to move on without you coloring her life with memories of her mother. So, you will find that all traces of the little girl’s parentage unrelated to you will be impossible to find.”
“How did you manage that?” I sputter out.
“Never you mind. All that matters now is that Chloe is cared for, per her mother’s request of me. And I am quite sure that you don’t want to see this sweet little angel, your daughter, end up in the system. Can I count on you to make sure that doesn’t happen, young man?”
I sit, staring at this squat little man, holding a perfect little baby with my facial features, and have no idea what to do. I can’t even remember ever holding a baby, let alone considering becoming a father. I feel like I’m going to be sick, and can’t seem to be able to form any kind of coherent sentence. Everything coming out of my mouth is gibberish.
“I don’t. I can’t. Where. How. I’m just. I’m here. You. But she. You. Me. Why. Uh… yes?”
The next thing I know, Chloe is sitting in my lap, Bailey is handing me his business card, and walking back out my door as suddenly as he appeared. I look down at Chloe, her long eyelashes fluttering and her little hands reaching out to me, and I do the only thing I can think of. I pick up the phone on my desk and dial.
“Mom? Can you come to the office?... No, now. It’s… an emergency.”
Part Two
Arie
New York City, Present Day
I’m curled up in a hospital bed in Sloane-Kettering hospital, frantically pressing the release button on the device that administers my pain medications, but nothing is happening. I know it’s too soon for another dose, but the drugs aren’t working anymore. It’s taking more and more of them to even make a dent in my pain. The doctors are absolutely baffled by my condition at this point, mostly because I was supposed to be dead six months ago. Yet, here I lay, hospital bills mounting, pain getting worse, and no closer to any answer than I was when this whole nightmare started.
Worst of all, I haven’t seen my daughter in six months. I have no idea how she is doing, if she is happy and healthy, whether Pierce is taking good care of her. I made Mr. Bailey promise to cease all contact with me after he handed Chloe over to Pierce, but now that I seem to be clinging to life in spite of every diagnosis, my dreams are plagued with thoughts of the little girl I gave away. What if I did it for no reason? What if I live to be a hundred, just miserable and in pain the whole time? Is that any kind of life for a little one anyway?
If I’m not thinking about Chloe, or how sick I am, I’m thinking about the loan sharks from whom I borrowed money to pay off the first round of bills. I put all my chips on being dead before I’d have to pay them back, and now…I’m still here. Not only do I owe some very violent men close to $75,000, but I’ve added over $100,000 to my mounting debt. So far, the hospital has been cutting me some slack because I paid off the initial bill — they certainly didn’t care where the money came from the first time. But I don’t think their generosity will last forever, and the longer I live like this, the more money I am going to owe. Being sick and terrified? That’s no way to get better. If getting better is even an option for me.
My day nurse, Alicia, comes into my room with a syringe and a bowl of broth. I feel my body go stiff at the thought of eating, but they keep trying to make me eat anyway, even though most of my nutrition comes in the form of IVs these days.
“Honey, you’re never going to force that machine to do anything it doesn’t want to. But I got permission from Doctor Gould to give you a little booster. She’s going to be down soon to talk with you. In the meantime, is there any chance today you can take a few spoonfuls of this broth? Even one?”
I shake my head and curl up into a tighter ball. “No, thank you. Just the medicine.”
Alicia sighs. We have the same conversation every day and I never change my answer, but it doesn’t stop her from asking. “All right, sweetheart. Here is your shot,” she says as she injects the drugs into the IV line. “Close your eyes until Doctor Gould gets here.”
It’s only seconds before a wave of dizziness washes over me, and I don’t care about my pain anymore. All I care about is sleeping. The drugs make it impossible for me to keep track of trivial things, like the time, or what day it is, so when I hear my name, I have no concept of how long I’ve actually been asleep. I open my eyes and see Doctor Melanie Gould sitting next to me on the bed. Her long red hair is swept up in a stylish braid, and her usually tired eyes seem to be alight with an excitement I’ve never seen in her before.
