Chapter 13
Auggie
After the break we’d gotten with our previous investigation, there was a lull in new cases.
This was a good thing. It meant there were no new victims for the time being, but it also meant I had very little to do.
My hours at the office were mostly spent catching up on paperwork—which never seemed to end—and trying to get to know the rest of my coworkers.
I’d never been the most social person, so small talk and idle conversation came as unnaturally as flying to me, but I managed to form enough of a favorable impression that I was no longer seen as the “new recruit”.
I could now finally list all of my coworkers by name, but even so, the one I remained the closest with was still Roland.
He couldn’t stop talking about his partner, a younger man named Tyler, who was finally making the long trip to move in with him.
I was happy for him. I knew how hard a long-distance relationship could be, but it was a bittersweet feeling that turned more bitter than sweet with every conversation.
No matter how happy I was for him, watching someone else succeed in the same type of relationship that I’d failed at was still a heavy blow to take.
The only solace for me was Melody. I’d finally got my apartment completely set up and the custody arrangement with Chantal arranged so that Melody could start staying with me more often.
We started with a single weekend when I knew I didn’t have to work. I picked Melody up on Friday night and agreed to drop her back off with her mother on Sunday night. That left two whole days and nights just the two of us, father and daughter, to do whatever we wanted.
The first night was spent getting Melody’s room set up just right.
I’d already arranged all the furniture and brought over her stuff, so I hadn’t thought getting her settled into her space would take so long.
That was my first mistake. I never realized the arrangement of stuffed animals was such an exact art.
Some belonged on the bed, some belonged on the floor, some had to be near each other, while others apparently didn’t get along.
Like a queen arranging the officials of her court, Melody had an exact placement for everything, and I, her serf, had to make it happen.
As I repositioned the blue stuffed bunny for the third time—because it was too close to the bed, and apparently, this toy was afraid of heights—the smile never left my face.
We could rearrange the room a dozen times, and I wouldn’t care, I was just happy to know she was comfortable in my home.
It meant I hadn’t failed as a father, even if I had failed as a husband.
Hours later, when the room was finally just right and we’d eaten dinner, it was finally time to go to bed. Melody insisted on a bedtime story, and that was when she found my extensive collection of children’s books.
Grabbing an armful off the shelf, she looked up at me with her bright smile. “Are these for me?”
She’d grabbed more than she could hold, and the books slipped from her arms. I quickly saved them before they could land on her tiny feet and set them down on the floor where she could still see them.
“You can read them as much as you want,” I said. “But they aren’t just for you. Daddy also needs to use these.”
At first, Melody thought I was joking, and her laughter rang through the apartment, but when she realized I was serious, her curiosity sparked to life.
Delighted by the idea of an adult reading kids’ books, she kept asking about them until I gave in and told her about my volunteer work at the hospital.
After my explanation, she sat in silence for a while, starting down at the extensive pile of books. She didn’t say a word, but the wheels behind her little eyes were turning with unfathomable thoughts as she processed something.
I hadn’t planned for this conversation. I’d barely even discussed my volunteer work with Chantal, so I didn’t know what Melody would think about it. She was so young, and although she seemed happy, my absence and the divorce couldn’t have been easy for her.
Would she be jealous that I was giving my time to other kids?
Did she even understand what a hospital was and why children ended up there?
“So, these kids are hurt?” she eventually asked.
I just nodded and let her continue to think.
“And you read books to them to make them feel better?”
Again, I nodded.
She nodded along with me, like a sage who had just uncovered the secret to enlightenment. Then, she grabbed one of the books from the pile and held it out to me.
“I like this one. Read it to the hurt kids. It’ll definitely make them feel better.”
Looking down at the book in my hands, I found a cover of painted blue and green with two white rabbits and a title that read The Runaway Bunny.
The book was on the younger side, so I hadn’t read it to the kids at the hospital yet, but I promised to bring it with me as an option next time I volunteered.
I went to set the book back on the shelf, but before I could set it down, she grabbed it back from my hands.
“Wait, can I read it?”
“You want this one as a bedtime story tonight?” I asked. “Sure. We can do that.”
But she was already shaking her head and hugging the book closer.
“No, can I read it to the hurt kids? Mama said I’m real good at reading. I wanna do it.”
That presented more of a problem. Never mind the fact that I hadn’t discussed taking Melody to the hospital with Chantal, but I wasn’t even sure I was allowed to bring a child with me when I volunteered.
However, anyone who’s tried explaining difficult situations to a five-year-old knows that this is an exercise in futility.
Children that young deal in absolutes. Melody wanted a definite answer right then and there, and was only happy when I at least promised that she could come so long as the hospital allowed it.
Hopefully, Chantal wouldn’t mind that I agreed for her.
For bedtime, we ended up reading The Runaway Bunny as a bedtime story.
Or, I should say that Melody ended up reading it to me as a way to “practice” so she’d be ready to read to the other kids.
The book was right at her reading level, and her mother was right.
She was an excellent reader. She barely stumbled over any of the words.
If I had my way, I’d have let her volunteer with me at the hospital right away, but like so many things in life, it was out of my hands.
The rest of our weekend went smoothly, and just as I promised, I asked about letting Melody volunteer at the hospital.
Chantal wasn’t sure at first but caved in and agreed when she saw how excited Melody was.
The hospital, however, took a little bit longer.
There was a lot more paperwork involved for such a young child to volunteer.
So, several weeks passed before I was finally able to make good on my promise.
I feared that Melody’s enthusiasm would wane over the extended wait, five-year-olds weren’t known for their long attention spans, but when her day of volunteering finally came, she was just as excited as when she first suggested the idea.
Before we arrived at the hospital, I tried to prepare her for what to expect.
She was technically only there to help me, as a child her age could not volunteer on her own.
The hospital had a wide range of child patients spanning all ages.
If the kids were interested in her book, then she could read to them.
However, if they wanted something else, something older and beyond her reading level, then she had to accept that.
That had been Chantal’s biggest worry, and it was mine as well.
Melody was a well-behaved child, but she still had the maturity of a five-year-old.
Children her age often didn’t handle perceived rejection well.
However, I also suspected that this might be a good learning opportunity, which was the main reason I pushed so hard for her to come with me.
Empathy and kindness were sadly lacking in the world, and if this little trip could help Melody develop those skills, then it would be worth the effort.
As soon as we got to the hospital, the nurses were clearly delighted by Melody as she showed off her book.
We were brought to the children’s area, like normal, where many patients were already waiting for us.
I recognized many of them, though there were also new faces among the gathered kids.
Before we approached the gathered group, I took a moment to let Melody observe everything from the safety of the doorway.
Hospitals were already scary places and seeing a bunch of sick and injured kids could be very overwhelming.
“Are you all right?” I asked her, smoothing my hand over her hair, which her mother had just put into braids that morning.
Hugging her book a little closer to her chest, Melody nodded, but it was a distracted gesture that I could tell didn’t actually mean agreement. Just an acknowledgement that she heard me.
“They’re really hurt?” she asked, her gaze never leaving the other kids.
At first, I thought she was asking if the kids were faking their illnesses, but then I realized that she’d never seen people this ill before.
Many of the kids couldn’t even get out of bed and had to be pushed along in their gurneys.
She wasn’t asking if the kids were faking.
She was redefining the word “hurt” in her vocabulary.
“They are,” I said softly. “These kinds of hurt take a long time to heal, but reading to them can help them feel better while they do. Understand?”
This time, when she nodded, it was more resolute. I hoped that meant she really understood, because looking at the group of kids, I could already tell most of them were older than her and probably wouldn’t appreciate her book.
The kids immediately grew excited when they saw me, already calling out the names of stories they wanted to hear.
“All right, you’ll get to choose in a minute,” I assured them. “But first, I’ve brought someone new to read to you today.”
After introducing the kids to Melody, I let her explain the book she was going to read like it was show-and-tell.
A few of the younger kids seemed interested in the story of the little rabbit, but most of the kids just looked bored.
I hoped Melody didn’t notice as she stared intently at each page, making sure not to mess up any of the words.
Well, it could have been worse. At least the other kids weren’t being mean. Even the older ones, who clearly weren’t interested in the story, remained quiet until Melody finished her reading, and only after she closed the book, did they ask for a different story.
The rest of the session passed like normal. Melody sat in the front row with some of the other kids, listening along to the stories that I read. I’d specifically chosen ones I knew she hadn’t heard before in the hope that it would distract her, just in case today didn’t go well.
By the end, all the kids were once again carted off to return to their rooms. Usually, I timed my readings to happen right before bedtime, but due to Melody accompanying me, I’d come earlier today.
Most of the kids were still awake as nurses or parents took them away, though they were clearly happy after the reading session.
Melody watched them go with a silent, intense gaze.
I knelt down and placed a hand on her shoulder. “So, what did you think? Did you have fun reading?”
“They didn’t like my book.”
I withheld my sigh. So, she had noticed.
“That’s not—”
“Yes it is,” she interrupted. “They didn’t like it.”
She looked so downtrodden even her braids seemed to droop. I would have done anything to cheer her up at that moment, but I couldn’t change the hearts of children or make them like something they didn’t like.
My desperation made me speak before I thought, and a suggestion tumbled from my mouth before I realized what I was doing.
“Don’t worry. We’ve got one more person to visit and I’m sure he’ll appreciate your book.”
What was I doing?
I hadn’t gotten permission to bring Melody into the long-term ward, and I had no idea how she would react to seeing a coma patient, but she was already looking up at me with hope glittering in her eyes, so I couldn’t take it back now.
Heading to the nurses’ station, I was relieved to find Newt on duty. After explaining my situation, and the little nurse quietly laughed at me for a moment, he agreed to accompany us as I brought Melody to see the John Doe patient.
“Why’s he sleeping?” she asked when we reached the familiar room.
“He’s not sleeping,” I tried to explain as I hoisted her up onto a chair so she could better see the man on the bed. “He’s in a coma.”
“What’s a comb-ah?”
“It’s, uh…” I looked over at Newt, hoping he had a better way to explain. I knew the general idea behind a coma, but not the science of it, and I certainly didn’t know how to simplify it for a child.
Luckily, this didn’t seem to be Newt’s first time having to explain medical information to children.
He showed Melody the machines hooked up to the John Doe patient and explained how a coma was like a really deep healing sleep, but we needed him to wake up now and reading to him was one way to help get his mind active.
Melody peered closely at the man but very carefully didn’t touch him. “So, he’s asleep because he’s really hurt, and he needs to wake up. And reading will help him?”
“Yep.” Newt flashed him a smile. “And that’s what your father’s been helping with.”
“Okay.” With a resolute nod, she settled into the adult-sized chair, her feet just barely hanging over the edges, and opened her book.
As she started reading, I crept over to Newt. “Thanks for this. I know it wasn’t part of the plan to bring her here, but—”
He cut me off. “It’s fine. Our John Doe can use all the visitors he can get. Your little girl is very well behaved. A lot of kids get freaked out by medical stuff.”
“Yeah, I was afraid of that, too. She’s more sympathetic than I was at that age.”
“Dad! Dad!” Melody’s shouts interrupted our conversation.
“Shh, Melody,” I quickly ran to her side. “What is it?”
She smiled at me. “You were right. Reading helped him get better.”
“Huh?”
I looked to where she was pointing. There on the bed lay the John Doe, just like always, but there was one difference.
His eyes were open.