Chapter 7 - The Homecoming
Five days later, Dr. Aris signed the discharge papers for Room 412 with strict, non-negotiable instructions: zero nursing shifts for at least four weeks, mandatory daily blood pressure monitoring, and absolute physical rest.
When Clara came out of the hospital bathroom dressed in clean sweatpants and a sweater Arthur had bought for her at a nearby boutique, she stopped dead in the doorway of the patient room. Sitting in a wheelchair by the door, surrounded by three large suitcases and Lily holding a bouquet of bright yellow sunflowers, was Arthur.
“What is all this?” Clara asked, looking at the luggage. “I told you, I can take a rideshare back to Rogers Park. My neighbor Mrs. Gable said she can watch Lily after school while I rest on the couch.”
“You’re not going back to Rogers Park, Clara,” Arthur said, standing up and holding out his arm to help her into the wheelchair. “I spent the last three days packing up your apartment. I paid off the remainder of your residential lease, I settled the outstanding balance with the electric company, and I hired movers to transfer your furniture into storage.”
Clara gripped the doorframe, her eyes flashing with a mix of panic and anger. “You did what? Arthur, you have no right to interfere with my living situation! Where are we supposed to go?”
“To my place,” Arthur said simply. “Before you say no, just listen to me. I have a three-bedroom condominium on Lake Shore Drive with two thousand square feet, an elevator, and a twenty-four-hour doorman. I converted the home office into a recovery suite for you with a hospital-grade adjustable bed and a dedicated heart monitor. Lily’s new bedroom is already set up right across the hall from yours.”
“We can’t live with you, Arthur! We’re divorced!”
“We are parents,” Arthur corrected her gently, taking her hands in his. “And right now, the mother of my child is medically fragile and needs full-time support. You don't have to talk to me. You don't have to forgive me. You can lock the door to your suite and treat me like a hired nurse if you want to. But I am not letting you go back to a freezing third-floor walk-up where you have to climb thirty-six stairs every time you need groceries. For Lily’s sake, let me do my job as her father.”
Lily walked over, leaning her small head against Clara’s waist and looking up with wide, hopeful eyes. “Please, Mommy? Daddy’s apartment has a big bathtub that makes bubbles, and he bought six different kinds of cereal for us. He even learned how to make pancakes without burning them.”
Clara looked down at her daughter, then up at Arthur’s determined, exhausted face. The absolute exhaustion in her own bones finally outweighed her pride. She slumped slightly, releasing her grip on the doorframe, and let Arthur guide her into the wheelchair.
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“One month,” Clara whispered, her voice trembling. “As soon as Dr. Aris clears me to work again, we’re finding our own place.”
“One step at a time,” Arthur said, unlocking the brakes on the wheelchair. “Let’s just get you home first.”
