The hospital disappeared in my rearview mirror as Nora slept beside me, finally coming home after thirteen days in the NICU. I thought the worst was behind us.
My daughter had Caleb’s dark curls, his cleft chin, and his eyes – one bright blue, the other nearly black.
My parents died when I was ten.
« Someone in the family must have them, too, » the discharge nurse had said.
« Her father, » I’d whispered. I hadn’t said his name out loud in months.
Caleb had disappeared the same night I told him about the pregnancy.
No note, no answered calls, nothing. ʼ
The worst part was that nothing about that night had warned me.
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