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"Uh, yes," I answer. A girl. That's all that occupies my mind. A girl. From that second forward, everything around me is a blur. The machine and doctor are gone, and Evan returns to my room once he locks the front door.
"Is everything okay?" he ponders. I don't know what to say. I am happy. I am conflicted. I am relieved.
"I'm tired," I express. But I stay propped up on the pillows.
"You don't appear very joyful," Evan observes, sitting beside me on the edge of the bed. "I thought you'd be a little more excited."
"I'm glad it's a girl," I assert. He nods.
"Are you…having second thoughts?" he speculates.
I peer up at him. "Second thoughts?!"
"I was just asking," he puts up a defense before I get riled up. I deflated again. "Are you worried about him?"
"Yeah." A baby girl. Yet another thing to tether me to him. "He's gonna think she's his and will want to see her," I speculate.
"From where? Jail? I'm sure he'd want to, but after what he did, he won't be able to," Evan scoffs.
"I know he won't be allowed to…but that's not gonna stop him," I sound, hoping he understands my worry.
Evan closes his eyes, and once they reopen, he studies the ground, his hands clasped into a ball. "Would you like to go to the park?"
"Really!?" I squeak. Before he can answer, I get out of bed and slip on my flats. "Let's go!" I haul him off his ass and drag him to the front door.
"Wait, wait," he says. I pause as he squeezes my hand that is already in his. "You need to be careful. A hat or sunglasses to somewhat cover you. It won't do much for the paparazzi, but it'll help with avoiding fan interactions orotherinteractions," he avows.
"Right." It takes about a minute before we are ready to leave. The hall. It was my second time seeing that long, twisting hall with black and gray carpets. We take the elevator and walk through the lobby, greeted by an unsuspecting vehicle.
Evan gets in the driver's seat. "I thought this would be safer—less recognizable, less trackable," he mentions before driving onto the road. Sitting in the passenger seat of a car shouldn't feel so…weird. It is so foreign.
Though I am happy to arrive, the ride to the park is shorter than I would like. I know it'll feel like a faster ride back. I open the car door and enjoy the sun on my face through the sunglasses.
"Stay close," Evan instructs, walking to my side. I find the asphalt sidewalk that wraps around the lengthy park. I want to take in the scene and the people, but my excitement quickens my pace when I'm not paying attention. Trees sway, people bustle, bees fly from flower to flower, and I stray from the road to walk on the grass.
"Yes!" I exclaim, kicking off my flats and letting the plush greenery squish between my toes, raising my hands to the sky and spinning with the wind. Some may have deemed it childish or immature, but I won't let anyone or anything ruin my small window of freedom. The spot I used to paint is pretty close, so I run to the area. It is still as stunning as always.
The colors of the park are vivid and alive. Leaves dance in the gentle breeze, and the distant laughter of children playing can be heard. Evan and I walk side by side, our fingers intertwined, the weight of the city seeming lighter in the park's embrace.
Out of nowhere, a burst of energy in the form of a beautiful boxer bounds over to us. Its brindle coat shimmers in the sunlight, and its tail wags with wild enthusiasm. Before I can react, it's right in front of me, nudging my hand with its snout, begging for affection.
Laughing, I kneel down to give the boxer the attention it craves, scratching behind its ears and running my fingers through its smooth coat. "Hello, you," I coo, losing myself in the joy of the moment. The dog leans into my touch, eyes closing in contentment.
Evan chuckles, "You've made a new friend."
I look up to see a couple approaching, slightly out of breath, clearly the dog's owners. "Apologies," the woman says with a smile, her light jog slowing to a stop. "Charlie here has a way of getting ahead of us."
With a playful grin, the man adds, "And a knack for finding the friendliest faces in the park."
I stand up, brushing my knees. "He's lovely," I say, giving Charlie one last pat. "I've always had a soft spot for boxers."
The woman's face lights up. "Us too. They're such gentle giants, aren't they?"
Evan, not typically one to engage in casual conversation, surprisingly chimes in. "He's got a strong build but such kind eyes. You've trained him well."
The man laughs, "Well, that's kind of you to say, but I think he's the one training us most days."
We all share a laugh, and for a moment, the world appears incredibly small and intimate, with four strangers (and a dog) connecting in the middle of Central Park.
