Chapter 2 Writing myself off

CHAPTER TWO

Miguel

I am out of the northbound Jubilee line train as soon as the doors slide open, shoving my way past the unruly commuters who don't have enough travel decorum to wait for people to alight before they board. I run all the way up the escalators and make a mad dash out of the station on to Avenue Road.

At 8pm, I am two clear hours later than when I should have picked Laura up from her day care centre. Three, if you discount the grace hour. As much as I have tried to limit my hours at the hospital to a maximum of five, there are days like this when it is out of my control. Thankfully, the owner of the childcare facility, Cheryl, lives on the premises, which is the main reason I chose it over other less expensive and easier accessible options. But as I half walk and half run down the street, the hefty penalty I will have to pay booms in my head like a trombone.

The frown on Cheryl's face when she opens the door does very little to conceal her disapproval.

"I'm so sorry about this," I say, as she hands over my sleeping daughter. "It got crazy at the hospital."

Her deadpan face shows her disinterest in my worn excuse. She hands me a slip and the amount I see is jarring. But at £2 for every minute after 6pm,it is expected.

"Do us a favour and let it slide this time?" I ask, giving her what I hope is my most charming smile. "It's not like I'm late every day. And I was saving lives and all."

"Nice try," she chuckles, shaking her head. "Laura had some sniffles this evening, so you might want to keep an eye on her this weekend."

I nod in acknowledgement, disappointed my attempt to charm myself out of the penalty has failed... again. It'll be yet another expensive month.

"Thanks, Cheryl," I force a smile as I accept my daughter's bag with my free arm. "Have a good weekend."

"You too, Miguel," she says, shutting her door.It's a short bus ride home and, once there, Laura remains asleep as I get her out of her clothes and into her nightwear. My phone vibrates as I tuck her in, and I pad silently out of the room to answer it.

"Chudi and I are heading out now," comes my friend, Sean's voice. "Are you already on your way? Remember, it's Thirst Bar not Barrio ."

I grimace as I remember I was supposed to find a babysitter for the evening for a long-delayed hangout with my friends.

"What the hell is that sound? Don't tell me you didn't get a sitter?" comes Sean's elevated voice.

"I didn't get a sitter, mate," I say, opening my bedroom door, feeling just as regretful and as it is expected, my friend is disappointed.

It's a mutual friend's 35th birthday, and I'd looked forward to a chance to hang out with them after such a long time.

"How long is this going to go on, Miguel?" Sean sighs in his exasperation. "You're not the only single dad in the world. You don't have to turn yourself into a hermit. You're writing yourself off socially."

A sardonic smile forms on my face as I think of the many other ways I am 'writing myself off'. With my drastically reduced hours, the fortune I pay in penalties to Laura's day care, not to mention that I have had to temporarily drop out of my hospital's advanced specialization training in oncology because of its demanding hours, I might just be doing the same financially and professionally.

But it is what it is.

As I unbutton my shirt, my phone vibrates with a text message. I'm smiling as I open it, thinking it's from yet another disappointed friend, but the smile is replaced by a frown when I read the message. It is not a friendly one... not in the least. Deleting it, I block the unfamiliar number, making that the fifth such one I have had to block in a month. But I'm ready to block as many more as I need to, to make sure messages like this become a thing of my past.