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“Hey. They were vicious. You think paparazzi in LA are bad, they’re worse in Canada because they’re smiling and they’re polite, so you don’t even realize how close they’ve gotten until they’re trying to take pictures of your dick imprint.”
I hear a snicker from the nurse’s station we’re passing. I turn and lock eyes with an older nurse who’s embarrassed to be caught laughing. She hides her mouth behind one plump hand. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I just heard… I’m so sorry.”
I give her an easy smile. “Dick imprint? Funny, huh?”
She giggles again. “I’m so sorry, it’s just such a silly phrase, I –”
“I think so too,” I say. “But it was a headline, if you can believe it.” In a gossip mag, but still, a headline.
“Oh, I know, I read that one,” she says. Then, her apple cheeks grow red with embarrassment.
Another fan. A charming fan, but still… another fucking fan.
“I’m so sorry,” she says again and turns back to her computer, typing away at something.
“Come on, I brought some albums for you to sign so you can give them as thank yous to the staff here,” Mickey says, ticking his head in the direction of my room.
However, something catches my eye before he steps away. The nurse’s station is covered in cards and mementos. A stuffed black bear, pictures of kids and husbands. Christmas cards.
And one Christmas card stands out above them all.
“Is that Dr. Delgado?” I say, pointing to the photo framed in red.
“Yes, it is,” the nurse says.
I hold out my hand. “Can I see it?”
If I was anyone else, she’d probably refuse, thinking I’m crazy. But after making it clear she’s thought about my dick print, I think it’s safe to say she’ll do anything to appease me. She pulls the pushpin out of the Christmas card and extends it out toward me. “Aren’t they cute together?” she says.
I stare down at the photo in my hand. They sure are cute together.
Christmas cards in California are sort of funny. People dressed up in red and green surrounded by desert and palm trees instead of snow and pines.
The picture is of Isabella, her son, and Isabella’s mother, Marisol. The three of them are crowded on the front stoop of a cookie-cutter suburban house. That was Isabella’s dream, to move her mother out of the ranch they shared together, and give her an American house. Marisol has cut her hair the way older women tend to when they get into their sixties. And Isabella only looks a little older, a little fuller. Still beautiful.
It’s the little boy I’m interested in the most though.
He’s young, but not that young. I was expecting a toddler. Not a child who looks almost ready to start school.
The card reads:
Blessings to you and yours this Christmas Season!Love, Isabella, Marisol, and Leo
Leo. An adorable little boy. Not at all a surprise considering Isabella is his mother. He’s grinning so broadly you can see all his teeth, his chin tilted up for the camera. Isabella is a carbon copy of Marisol. And Leo is… well, he’s half Isabella and half someone else. He’s got her dark hair but his eyes look like they’re almost green. Hazel maybe.
Green…
The question bubbles out of me without thinking. “How old is Dr. Delgado’s son?”
“Hmmm, well Leo’s going into kindergarten this next school year, I think. So he’ll be five soon.”
The words enter my brain and land like atom bombs. “Almost five?”
“I think? It’s so easy to lose track of time these days. Happens when you get old,” she says.
Mickey agrees with a solid, “Here, here.”
Leo Delgado. Four maybe five. Green in his eyes. No father to speak of.
