Kind- Rabbit is kind to her. He always smiles when he sees her running towards him. He lets her hold his hand when she’s getting her shots or a check up and squeezes her eyes tight and his hand as hard as she can. He sneaks her popsicles when she’s waiting for you to get off your shift. He sits with her in the break room- perched on his lap while she colors on old ER charts as he reads case studies aloud for her and stops when she asks what a certain word he said was. He listens to her yap away about her day at school- knelt down even if his leg is killing while she goes into detail about the pb&j she had for lunch. He answers her millions of questions- always in a way she’d understand and smiles when she follows up with “why?” Her dad would get annoyed- her dad says “because” and doesn’t answer her. Her dad says she talks too much.

Funny- Rabbit is so funny in a way that makes her giggle so much that her little stomach and sides hurt. When they argue over the last pudding cup- “I’m older so I should get it.” “I’m cuter,” she’ll retort and when he rolls his eyes and say that’s not fair she’ll laugh. His dry wit and deadpan expressions make her giggle- when he says “this is not a serious medical issue,” as she holds her stuffed rabbit up by the ears because “Mr. Bun is sick.” Or when he tells Shen he needs two cc’s of apple juice for them both stat. Her dad isn’t funny. He’s always serious. He’s always angry around her- his face grumpy but not the way Jack’s is. He tells her to stop laughing when things weren’t funny to him.

Brave- because her Rabbit isn’t scared when she is. When he stayed by her bedside on the peds floor because she was sick- sleeping cramped in that uncomfortable chair so she didn’t wake up alone and scared. When she said she was afraid that she'd have bad dreams while she tried to sleep- “that’s why I’m here kiddo- to fight the bad dreams while you sleep okay?” When she asked about his leg- he told her how he lost it protecting his friend years ago. That means he’s brave right? Because her dad didn’t answer her when she’d cry at night over her bad dreams- when she’d knock on his door late at night and ask him to tuck her back in he’d tell her to leave him alone or would ignore her altogether.

Strong- Rabbit was clearly the strongest. He easily carries her when she throws herself at him. Swings her over his shoulders and holds her upside down while she kicks her legs and giggles. When she’s sleepy after waiting for you to get off your shift and her head is heavy on his big shoulders- he walks to your car with her snoring in his ear like she weighs nothing. She’s seen him hold up a grown man that passed out on the ER floor- and she’s seen him hold you while you cried. After her dad told you he didn’t want to see her this weekend- trying to be quiet but she could see how Jack rubbed your back to calm you down. He’s calm when the entire ER is in chaos. Her dad isn’t strong- he doesn’t try to hold her or pick her up. He can’t even open her water bottle after a long day or even stop her tears.

Patient- this one was hard to understand but her Rabbit sounded patient. When she cried because her drawing didn’t come out the way she wanted or when she couldn’t do her math homework right he didn’t yell or even raise his voice. “That’s okay- let’s try again together alright?” He sounded out the words for her- his big hand holding her finger across the pages of the book to help her read and understand the book. When she needed help tying her shoes he bent down and smiled- narrating what he was doing so she could learn too “you make two bunny ears first.” He never got angry with her. He waited for her to take her time. Her dad sighed- groaned- rolled his eyes and told her to hurry up. Her dad hardly wanted to even see her.

Because Jack Rabbit, she’ll correct you when you say Jack is all of that. For Father’s Day her teacher had the class draw their dad who fits all these categories and clearly that’s all her Rabbit. You should’ve seen her- tongue poking out the side of her mouth and brows knitted up in concentration while she dug through the crayons for what she needed. It was a masterpiece. Her magnum opus. She even signed her name in the glittery sparkle pen that Jack let her have from the nurses station pen cup. She was so excited- digging through her backpack the second the babysitter brought her to the ER after she was picked up from school. You were worried- Father’s Day was this weekend and your baby’s sperm donor wanted nothing to do with the beautiful bright eyed little girl that you gave him.

“Look mama!” Proudly waving the construction paper at you- big letters that say ‘My Father Is:’ that makes your chest ache a little. Because her dad will never care about the love and time she put into it- the detailed drawings and stickers and figure that looks nothing like her dad. And not in the way that’s difficult because she’s four years old but-

“Who’s this baby?” Bending down- pointing at the figure at the bottom of the paper that has grey swirls on its head and angry eyebrows that are scribbled dark- black scrubs on and- only one stick leg and-

“That’s Rabbit!” Like it was obvious- rolling her eyes even because clearly it’s her favorite person in the entire world- how could you mistake it for anyone else? The grey swirls were drawn to depict his hair- curls that have lost their color due to age and probably stress. Angry scribbles of his brows because he’s always so serious when he works sometimes. And then the obvious single leg. That’s her Rabbit. And your heart aches- blinking back a stray tear because she’s right. Everything good about a dad is everything you love about Jack. He’s everything you would’ve picked for your daughter and when you take her hands to explain to her that while the drawing is beautiful- Jack wasn’t her father and- “Rabbit!” She cuts you off- little shriek of excitement and always so quick to escape your grasp. Her favorite person coming into work for his night shift- uneven steps and backpack slung over one of his shoulders and that scowl that immediately softens into a grin when he hears her. “Look! Look! Look!”

“What? What? What?” He lightheartedly mocks her with a smile- kneeling down to her level and carefully taking the colorful paper that she all but shoved into his face while she babbles- going on about how its Father’s Day this Sunday and how her teacher had them draw someone who’s kind and smart and funny and- “this is amazing bunny!” Face lighting up- soft awe because he can see how much better her drawings have gotten. He remembers her scribbles over the old charts and how he’d reply “of course it is” when she’d say it was a shark or a fire truck or-

“It’s you! I made it for you,” looking down at her single unlaced shoe- a little nervous habit she picked up when she realized she was being perceived by someone. For him? Something in Jack cracks- because this little girl that he’s watched grow up understands him as someone she can trust and love and- it’s everything he wanted. He looks up from above her head- making eye contact with you while you smile softly with an apologetic look.

The last thing you wanted was to guilt him into being appreciative- to make him feel forced to accept your child but there’s no one he’d rather accept into his life. No two people he’d rather have. But this isn’t about his feelings- this isn’t about how the hole in his heart has been filled with you and your bright, happy daughter who he’d do anything for. He loves his nights where your daughter sleeps in one of the empty bed in the ER- where he can watch over her while he charts because he needs some peace and quiet and he likes how her little snores silence his mind. He loves the way you laugh at his sarcastic comments- even more so when you throw one back his way because- “$20 says that patient did not slip and fall on the cucumber,” “well it had a condom on so I’ll take that bet.” He loves sitting next to you on the roof when it’s been the shift from hell- leaning back and sitting against the railing and watching the sunrise while you split a pizza “okay your half is the nasty pineapple one,” “just say you have no taste- it’s okay I won’t judge you,” and clink the bottles of your beers together. He misses when you’d doze off in the silence of the city before it starts to wake- your head resting on his shoulder where he can smell your shampoo and feel your warmth against him and the grounding weight of you reminding him that there’s so much more than this hospital.

He misses her because she started school and left the hospital’s child care- because for so long she was a constant in his life. You remember when you’d find him in the hospital’s daycare- laying on the floor while she crawled around him and smacked at his face while he droned on about a patient that was presenting with stroke like symptoms and yet his CT was clear. He would talk his problems out with her and when she’d babble back- “look I get your point but you don’t have to be so rude,” deadpan because she’d giggle and clap and her laugh relaxed him the same way your soft hand on his arm would. He’s so happy she’s making friends at school- but she still says- “Rabbit, you’re my best friend,” softly when he’s in the break room helping her with her math homework.

God- the rage he felt when he found your daughter alone in the break room with her backpack on a few weekends ago- “he promised me,” forcing the tears back because she didn’t want you to see her cry. Because you were arguing on the phone with her dad again- after he spent a week hyping her up about taking her to the park today but he called you last minute because his girlfriend’s son had a baseball game and- “why doesn’t he love me?” lower lip wobbling- voice so broken before she throws herself into Jack’s arms. He hates seeing her cry, wondering how anyone could abandon her when she’s the greatest kid he’s ever met- she’s so funny, smart and energetic and sure she talks a lot but so does he and- “shh, it’s okay- I’m here okay?” Meeting your eyes when you walk back into the break room- a sad little smile on your face because it makes your chest ache when she hurts for a man who didn’t care for her but here Jack was who doesn’t have an ounce of blood shared with her yet he would die for her.

Sure he’s a little obvious about his feelings for you but you’re not too subtle with yours either. Lingering touches when he passes behind you- a warm hand on your lower back or at your hips. Your fingers curling around his when you pass him a patient's lab results. His solid chest at your back when he’s reading a chart off the computer right behind you- cheek pressing into your temple or chin hooked over your shoulder. When he says “you’d be surprised,” when you say that no one wants to date a divorced single mom. “No one wants to date a one legged veteran widower,” with a shrug but- “you’d be surprised,” as you meet his eyes while you sip on the coffee he bought you- soft smile playing on your lips before you walk away and he swears he saw you wink at him.

And it keeps him up at night when he remembers the almost kiss. After you lost a patient who was too close in age to your daughter and he found you hyperventilating in the supply room- panicking because the babysitter wouldn’t answer her phone and you needed to know your daughter was okay and Jack was the one who brought you back down to earth. Strong hands on your face- making you look into those hazel eyes that you dream about- telling you to breathe with him, letting your hands wrap around his wrists but you nod and inhale. Exhale while your faces get closer. Inhale when your eyes drop down to his lips. Exhale when you feel his nose brushing against yours. Inhale when you feel the shaky breath of his lips on yours- exhale when you pull away because the babysitter was calling you back.

He puts the drawing in his locker- carefully taped to the metal where he can see it everyday and smile because this little girl loves him and he doesn’t know how to accept the love you both have for him. Or the love that he has for you both. And neither of you say anything. Not about the bright red holographic heart stickers or the crooked hearts she drew with every crayon in the box. Not about the way she wrote “I love you” on the side- shaky and uncoordinated but he could make those words out and he traces them after a bad day. Not about how he wishes he could come home to you both at the end of a long shift. How he wishes he could crawl into bed with you and have her sneak into the bed and wedge herself between you both with that stuffed rabbit that she can never leave behind. Or how you wish you could kiss him at the end of your shift and say “we’ll see you at home.”

Not about the way he wishes it were that easy.

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Jack Abbot who was having a terrible shift. Who was going through the motions of pushing the pain from his leg down and trying to find a place to rest when he hears a soft cry, a whimper even- coming from behind the door of the supply closet. Opening it and expecting maybe the intern who got yelled at by the radiologist but it’s a nurse- and a baby. A baby who’s barely a few months old- sleeping in your arms while you cry and try to not wake the baby up after working so hard to get her to sleep. “I’m sorry Dr. Abbot, I was just-” you sob but stop when he holds his hand up- as if to say it’s okay, grunting softly when he slides down the wall next to you before sighing in relief. “Who’s this?” He asks, nodding towards the little pink bundle that your husband deposited in your arms a few hours ago- grumbling about her wanting you and won’t take the bottle and how he needed sleep while you were trying to chart on your patients.

Jack Abbot who holds your daughter for the first time that night- taking her in his big arms while you chart next to him. It was cathartic for you both- Jack hasn’t held a baby in years and she somehow made him forget about the shooting pain in his leg and heart and you haven’t had someone else hold her without her screaming or feeling anxious. She settles in his arms- doesn’t struggle the way she does with your husband. There’s silence in the supply room that night- the soft, sweet sounds of your daughter cooing or sighing in her sleep that you’ve fallen in love with while Jack rests against the wall and lets the weight of her ground him. He hasn’t felt this relaxed since his wife passed- hasn’t been able to let his mind be silent and for a minute he thinks he’s able to do this again. He’s able to live- even if she’s not there anymore with him. Who doesn’t dread going home that morning.

Jack Abbot who watches you nearly every shift- exhausted and struggling with a newborn because your husband refused to be a father. The hospital child care center won’t take infants until they’re 6 months old- you’d bring her if you could because you knew your husband didn’t love her. It became painfully obvious when you both found out it was a girl- his smile dropped, his face told you everything- he didn’t want this baby. He didn’t want your daughter. Her father rejected her- he went through the motions when you told him you were pregnant. Your husband smiled and nodded when they asked if he was excited- but he was still detached. Completely different uninterested, didn’t even help you postpartum- left you bleeding and sore and mentally exhausted but said women do it all them time. His mom did it three times- you’re fine.

Jack Abbot who sees the exhaustion on your face- who sees the way you fight to stay awake because you’ve spent all day tending to your daughter and now you’re trying to work and tend to patients now. He can’t coddle you- he doesn’t. Who knows you’re competent but he can tell you to sit down- he can tell you to eat something because you need to keep your energy up. Who slides you a coffee at 3 am, perfect temperature and made exactly how you like because he pays attention to you. Who slips protein bars in your pocket- offers you some of his dinner because he makes way too much and won’t even get to eat it all so it shouldn’t go to waste. Who trusts you- immediately finding a bond with you because you’re both passionate about what you do and- you’re both lonely.

Jack Abbot who recognizes your daughters cries now- who smiles softly when he sees her in her carrier at the nurses station with your after your husband left her there without even a text or so much as a warning. “She’s teething,” you apologize- attempting to gently shove a pacifier in her mouth but she won’t stop and her little face is scrunched up in anger and tiny fists balled up to let the entire pit know she’s upset. “C’mere- no none of that,” Jack fake chastises the baby when she whimpers- taking her out of her carrier and asking if it’s okay to take her for a moment. Who takes in your exhausted look and messy hair and the tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. Who you find 15 minutes later in the break room with your daughter in his lap- gumming on his gloved fingers and drooling all over his hand while he reads a case study out loud.

Jack Abbot who doesn’t shame you for having your daughter- who helps you in those few months until she’s able to go to the hospital’s daycare. When he’s not busy he’ll take her in his big arms and call her a baby bunny because of the way she kicks in frustration when someone takes her from him- little angry thumps that endear him. Who lets you cry on his shoulder when you find out your husband was having an affair- “you’re just not the same anymore,” his excuse when you when you confronted him about it. But you didn’t cry for your marriage- you wept for your baby. Sweet little girl with big eyes and a gummy smile- “I don’t think he ever loved her,” a confession to Jack, while wiping your face and sighing before Jack tells you “you love her- that’s enough.” Who helps you through the divorce process- even arguing on the phone with the expensive lawyer your husband hired because they were trying to leave you with nothing.

Jack Abbot who is there for all your daughter’s firsts. Her first tooth- poking out like little fangs and going “ow!” dramatically when she bites him for the first time. Her first solids- baby sat in his lap while you push a spoon of puréed veggies at her and says it looks disgusting- when you try to scold him because now the baby is making a face and- “I’m just being honest.” Who gets excited when she takes her first steps- chunky legs tentatively taking a step forward while the nurses encourage her and the only person she wants to walk towards is him. Catching her before she falls and throwing her up in the air with a laugh and a “good job baby bunny!” Who is actually her first word- not mama or dada but “ACK!” trying to mimic you saying Jack. Repeating it over and over when he says “no- Abbot,” “ACK” “Dr. Abbot,” “ACK.”

Jack Abbot who stays by her bedside when she gets sick- when you bring her into the ER because something is wrong and you know this isn’t normal. Who watches you stumble over your words while you try to take control of triage but- this isn’t someone else’s child- she’s yours. You know her breathing is off, you’ve been watching her fever and it refuses to budge, she hasn’t had an appetite or wanted water- you even tried to bribe her with popsicles or soda and she didn’t even react. Who watched you force back tears while you rattle off her vitals and didn’t stop until his heavy hand landed in your shoulder- “hey, we got her okay? I got her.” Who goes up to the peds floor to check on you both after his shift was over- leans against the doorframe when he sees you asleep with your head right next to her on the bed. Who smiles when he hears her little “rabbit?” because she still can’t say Abbot- “hey baby bunny,” with a whisper so he doesn’t wake you up. Who promises you he’s not tired- he’ll watch her while you go change and take a shower- he’ll watch her while you work that night because you can’t afford to miss a day of work since the divorce. Who spends the night reading to her- checking her vitals and monitors and coloring with her. Who gives her as many popsicles as she wants- both their mouths purple when you come in during your lunch and ask if they’ve had actual food yet.

Jack Abbot who watches her little face crumple every time she gets disappointed when her sperm donor bails on her- when he doesn’t show up to his scheduled visits because he’s busy with his new girlfriend and her son. Her son that he’s devoted to- a boy who can play catch and run around and who he can be proud of. And maybe that hurts you more than anything because his absence is purposeful- his lack of love was a choice. And Jack can’t understand how this little girl’s father can willingly leave her life. She’s so bright and sweet- has your eyes and smile and the little scrunch of her nose when he tells her she needs to do her homework- “I didn’t do my homework- that’s how I lost my leg.” Who sits her at the break room table to help her- basic math or reading but he’s encouraging her and smiling and wondering what this would have felt like if he and his wife would have had any kids.

Jack Abbot who falls for you so easily. Who’s watched you struggle for 5 years alone with your daughter. Who loves your laugh- because you still have a sense of humor and will make snide comments that have him doubled over some times. Who still has little supply room breaks with you- sitting on the floor with your backs to the wall like when you first met. Sharing a protein bar between you both and taking a minute to just breathe. Who reminds you that you’re a good mom- that you’re doing the best you can and your daughter is happy and that’s what’s important. Who makes sure you get approved off for holidays or her birthday or any little dance recital that she has- who also buys her flowers for said dance recital and watches with a smile when she demands he see her practice. Who loves your smile- soft and sweet and even amid the chaos of the ER it’s like a breath of fresh air for him. Who sits on the roof with you after a tough shift- sharing pizza and beer and watching the sunrise together with your hands dangerously close and brushing together.

Jack Abbot who knows your daughter’s favorite color is purple, that her favorite ice cream flavor is strawberry, that she hates math but loves reading so he buys her books, that she loves to color and sing and he knows her favorite song and knows the characters in her favorite movie. Who listens to you argue on the phone again when her dad says he can’t make it to the zoo date that he promised- all while she sits at the nurses hub with her backpack and a sad face and- “he’s not coming- is he?” But Jack says he’ll take her- he’ll take her to the zoo instead. Asking if she’d like that and if you would mind and the three of you spend the day together- like a family would. Where she sits on his shoulders and points out the elephants or where he helps her lean over to feed the giraffe or when he buys her as many stuffed animals as her little arms can carry. Who passes her to you- when she’s asleep and dozed off in his arms and when she settles back against you she whispers- “goodnight daddy.”

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