Either way, I kept making the same promise.
“We’re going home.”
Eventually, we did.
But leaving the hospital did not mean the difficult part was over.
Chloe still needed medication, breathing treatments, checkups, and supplies that my insurance only partly covered.
One afternoon, I drove to the pharmacy with her asleep in the back seat. I was still recovering from surgery, and every awkward movement reminded me of it, but there was no one else to make the trip.
The pharmacist told me the total.
I checked my balance.
Then I checked again.
I did not have enough.
I returned to the car without everything Chloe needed and sat behind the steering wheel for several minutes.
Eric’s number was still saved in my phone.
I stared at his name longer than I want to admit.
Then I called.
He answered on the fourth ring.
“What?”
No hello. No question about the baby.
