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“I’m glad. It makes it more enjoyable for all of us.”
“Did you go into pediatrics because you loved kids?” She asked, and it was an innocent question, but it still hit that one little sore spot from my childhood.
“Actually, no. I mean, I do love kids, but I decided that when I was twelve, I was going to be a trauma doctor for children.”
“Twelve? What could have possibly led you to make that decision at that age?”
I glanced toward her, “My best friend, Johnny. He was injured in a dirt bike accident. Tried to jump a big dirt mound, hit a rock as he was going over, and it kicked the bike out from under him. He went head over heels about twenty feet in the air and landed on his collar bone. He lived for a while but died at the hospital. Of course, technology wasn’t was it is nowadays, but I always wondered if the doctors that worked on him were trauma certified. I decided then that I wanted to be a trauma doctor, and while I can work on adults, I prefer to work with kids.”
“Doesn’t that affect you? Working with kids and seeing the pain they are in, watching them die?”
“Oh, it does,” I glanced at her sadly, “but I also know that if a patient of mine dies, that I did every single thing that I could for them. I know that I was as trained as I could be, and I fought to save their life.”
“You are an amazing man, Wes.” Her hand landed on my arm, and I smiled her way.
“I have my faults, just like everyone.”
She laughed, which is what I had intended. “Yeah, and what pray-tell are those?”
“Sometimes, I leave the cap off the toothpaste, put my feet on the furniture, and forget to take the trash to the curb. Sometimes I listen to sappy music when no one is watching, and I can’t carry a turn worth shit. I’m sure my siblings could give you a few more, too.”
She was giggling, “Those aren’t faults.”
“I’m also one of those guys that when I fall, I fall hard.” I glanced toward her, and her smile diminished slightly. “I guess I should probably warn you, I believe in love, believe in family, and when I care about someone, I care about everything that has to do with them. I guess that’s why I’m still single. I think I might overwhelm people, or some women think it’s too old fashion.”
“Old fashioned? How is loving someone unconditionally old fashion?”
“I guess because I don’t expect my wife to work. I want to provide for her if that’s what she wants. I mean, I don’t mind if she works, especially if it’s something she really enjoys. Like Jersey. She edits because she enjoys it, but she doesn’t have to work. I want my wife to know that I will provide for her and give her everything in my power. I’d love to be with a woman who was happy to stay home and take care of our four children.”
She burst out laughing, “Four, huh? You really want four children?”
I shot her a grin, “I was afraid if I said six, you’d throw open the door and jump out.”
Her laughter filled the inside of the car, “No, I wouldn’t have.”
“What about you, Charlotte? Do you want more kids?”
She was quiet for a few moments, her gaze out the front window, “If you had asked me that a year ago, even six months ago, I would have said no. I honestly didn’t want more kids. I was happy with Marisol and our life.”
“But now? Did something change?”
She turned toward me, and I peered her way to find her eyes serious, “I think they did. Now, I find myself wanting more. Wanting a larger family.”
It was a good thing that I had come to a stop sign, and I could take my eyes off the road for longer than a second because I needed to see for myself if she was pulling my leg, or serious. The way she watched me, the tilt of her chin, the brightness of her eyes all told me that she was serious.
I glanced into the back seat, Marisol was staring at the screen, totally oblivious to us. I spoke low enough that I knew she wouldn’t hear me.
“If that little girl weren’t in the car right now, Charlotte, I’d would kiss you until you couldn’t see straight.”
