The Broken Miracle by J.D. Netto

Author:J.D. Netto [Netto, J.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 2021-01-13T13:55:49+00:00

Hope

FEBRUARY 2006

I decided to take a shot at cooking dinner to celebrate Olivia’s first day back at work. The menu: roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, and green beans. I wasn’t much of a chef, but I could find my way around the kitchen.

The past few months had been joy and chaos. Olivia never brought up our disagreement over the Christmas concerts again. She picked me up from the airport like nothing had happened. Maybe she was just relieved to have me back so I could help out with Neil. Jonahs also dropped the news that he and Hannah were planning to have a baby. They had delayed their move to Arizona until the end of next year but seemed to be happier than ever. He was also stable, from what he told me.

In our house, diapers piled like pungent mountains, which resulted in about four daily trips to the trash in the freezing weather.

Olivia came down dressed in her blue scrubs.

“I hope you’re hungry,” I said as she took a seat.

“This is your favorite dish.” She smirked. “You cooked it for you.”

“You’ll be surprised at how good this is.”

I fixed us both a plate and set them on the table.

“It does look good,” she said, fork and knife in hand.

I sat across from her, noticing her vacant stare and her apparent lack of interest in conversation as we ate.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

“I’m okay.” She shook her head. “It’s just leaving Neil for the first time.”

I grabbed her hand. “It’ll be fine. You need to do something for you as well.”

“I guess.” She continued eating. I’m not sure if she tried to conceal the worried expression on her face. If so, she didn’t do a good job.

“I could always stop doing music.” Guilt clutched Sawyer under my chest. “I know your job is important because we need health insurance, but I could drop everything and find that nine-to-five job. I know you’ve—”

“No,” she admonished. “It’s fine. Every parent has to deal with leaving their child at some point.” Her brows arched upward. “Some sooner than others, but hey, that’s life, and this is what we wanted. We wanted kids. You wanted to make music. I wanted to be with you. It’s all part of the package.”

“I guess,” I mumbled.

“Going to keep working on the new album this evening?” she asked.

“Yes. Going to try to write something. Wish me luck.” I smiled.

“Heard from Dr. Kupo yet?”

“Not yet,” I said, my smile fading. “I might give him a ring later.”

“It’s been, what, three weeks since your check-up?” she asked. “Shouldn’t they have called by now?”

“I’m sure we would’ve heard something if my heart was ready to give out. No news is good news.”

She was always tense the days after a check-up. I remained grounded—or at least pretended to be so as not to add to her burden. I’d always tell myself that everything was going to be alright. That was a lie I enjoyed believing so I could feel alive.

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