Chapter 12
Sue cradled her cellphone between her chin and shoulder as she added ingredients to the pot of chili that bubbled on the stove.
“Ashley, never have I seen anything like it.” Her shoulders recoiled at the memory. “Thank God it’s out in the open, but Jason has suffered so much.”
She sniffed. “And no one to care about him all these years. They announced on the local news that his dad assaulted a guard and has been charged with the hit and run. Sue paused for a moment. “I’ve been talking to Jeff about possibly seeing if we could adopt Jason.”
She pulled a tissue out of the box and wiped her eyes. “He has no one.”
Ashley responded in a reassuring tone. “At least now there’s you and Jeff.
Horrible to think of someone in so much pain that they would want to hurt themselves.
In a recent training I did, they told us that self-injury is very common in adolescents, and in a lot of cases it releases some of their inner angst.”
Sue drew in her breath. “Goodness. Other foster kids we’ve taken in have self-injured in different ways, but never as serious as this.”
Ashley continued in a lowered voice. “I think, in Jason’s case, it really stems from a life of loneliness and abuse. He must have so much pain and anger bottled up inside.”
Sue’s heart constricted as she thought of how miserable his life must have been. She stirred the chili and turned to open the cornbread mix.
“On a positive note, I spoke with Noah last night about mentoring him.”
“What did he think? He would be fantastic, but you all have a lot going on. Maybe later?”
“He’s interested.” Ashley interjected with an enthusiastic tone. “The casts are hopefully going to be removed in a week. Then he’ll need tons of therapy to strengthen the muscles, but he would be willing to meet with Jason. Start out slow and build their relationship.”
“Thank you, Ashley. I’m so worried about him. My heart just breaks.”
“It’s such a sad situation, but I do think Noah would be a wonderful mentor for him. Hey, will you be in church on Sunday? We could introduce them after the service.”
“Yes, we’ll be there. That would work out well. I need to go call the boys for dinner now. Please give Noah my best. Bye.”
Sue popped the cornbread mix into the oven and set the timer. She opened the back screen door and called out, “Boys, dinner in fifteen minutes. Jason, could you set the table for me? Felix, you can take Max for a walk and feed him. He needs fresh water too.”
Felix skipped into the kitchen with a sunny grin and lifted the leash off the hook. He clipped it to Max’s collar and opened the back door. Max bounded outside, pulling Felix behind him.
Jason slouched into the room, shoulders bent over, and fatigue written all over his face.
Sue gave him a bright smile and set the butter and honey on the table.
With slow movements, Jason opened the drawer next to the pantry and drew out four placemats.
He set them on the table and put a plate on each one.
Sue turned toward him as he pulled out the silverware, counting four forks, spoons, and knives.
“I was just speaking with Ashley Smith. Remember, I told you she’s going to be the school nurse for special education at Felix’s school?
Right across the street from your school.
Her husband, Noah, would like to meet with you—kind of like a big brother.
We’re going to meet them after church this weekend.
I think it will be good for you to spend some time with him. ”
The clattering of silverware filled the air as he hit the floor, his body twitching spasmodically.
“Jason! Jason!” Sue kneeled beside him.
His eyes rolled up in his head, and his skin felt cool to the touch. His body continued to jerk. Just then, Felix opened the back door.
“Felix!” Sue yelled. “Jason’s having a seizure. Find Dad and bring him here.”
Max started barking furiously as Felix left the room screaming, “Dad, Dad. Come quick!”
Sue heard pounding feet coming toward her as she cradled Jason’s head in her lap. Max circled the room, sniffing and pacing.
She held a towel to the back of his scalp that was blooming red. “Jeff. Call 911. He’s having a seizure, and he must’ve cut his head on the corner of the kitchen island when he fell. I’m having trouble stopping the bleeding.”
Jeff pulled out his phone, punched 9-1-1, and put the call on speaker. He squatted down next to Sue and placed his index and middle fingers lightly on the side of Jason’s throat.
“9-1-1, state your emergency.”
“My name is Jeff Hendricks. Our foster son is having a seizure. He has a large laceration on his scalp from when he fell and is bleeding.”
“Stay on the line, sir,” the dispatcher ordered. “Help is on the way. Is your foster son breathing normally?”
“Yes. He’s breathing. His pulse is fast.”
“Is someone holding pressure on his laceration?”
“Yes. My wife is,” Jeff answered.
“Good. Continue holding firm pressure until the first responders take over. Roll him on his side and do not stick anything into his mouth,” the dispatcher instructed.
Jeff rolled Jason onto his side.
“Can you please confirm your address and phone number?”
Jeff verified the essential information while Sue motioned to Felix. “Take Max and go next door and check if the Novak’s are home. If they are, ask them to come back here with you right away so I can speak to them.”
Felix nodded; fear etched across his face. “Okay, Mom.” He darted out the back door, dragging a bewildered Max behind him.
Jeff finished the call and looked down at Jason. “I think the bleeding has slowed down, and it looks like the seizure is stopping.”
Sue’s face was tight with worry. “Oh, Jeff.”
Moments later, Felix rushed through the door with their neighbor, Arlene Novak, on his tail. “Sue. What’s happening? Felix said there was an accident?”
“Yes. We think Jason had a seizure and hit his head. The ambulance is on its way. Can you stay with Felix and Max?”
“Of course. I’ll take them to my house now. We’ll clear the area for the emergency crew.”
“Thank you. I’ll be in touch as soon as we find out what’s going on. You have a key if you need anything from here?”
“I sure do.” As Arlene hustled Felix and Max out the back door, the distant wails of sirens grew louder.
Jeff went to unlock the front door.
Sue patted Jason’s blanched face. “Jason, Jason. Can you hear me? Please—open your eyes.”
He lay still as stone.
Emergency personnel burst into the room. “Ma’am, we’ll take over from here.”
The paramedic in charge expertly assessed Jason’s vital signs while another medic immobilized his head and spine. Sue stood by the stove, watching intently, with Jeff at her side.
“His pulse is thin and thready. Blood sugar’s forty,” the paramedic announced. “I’m going to start an IV.”
As Jason’s sleeve was cut off to expose his arm, the medics raised their brows at the extensive network of cut marks.
The paramedic attached the IV tubing and started the flow of fluids. He turned to the firefighters. “Load him up for transport. I’ll call the ER to advise them of the situation and status.”
“We’ll follow in our car,” Jeff informed the emergency team. “Sue, can you grab Jason’s medical and foster folder?”
Sue scurried to gather the information, her coat, and purse. She glanced down at her blood-soaked clothes, shook her head, and pulled her coat on, buttoning it as she hurried to close up the house. She smelled the aroma of the chili and stepped back into the kitchen to turn off the stove and oven.
Jeff locked the front door as the ambulance took off down the street, sirens blaring. They rushed to the garage, jumped into their Suburban, and followed it.
Jeff picked up Sue’s hand, still stained with Jason’s blood, and gave it a squeeze. “Let’s pray.”
Hours later, Sue and Jeff sat in the hospital cafeteria.
Sue picked at a salad while Jeff devoured a cheeseburger.
The dinner hour was long past. Jason had been conscious but drowsy.
The doctor had told them it was common to be drowsy and sleep after a seizure.
While they ate, he was admitted to the medical-surgical unit for observation and blood transfusions.
The lab test results showed he was severely dehydrated, hypoglycemic, and anemic.
Sue toyed with her fork, pushing the limp lettuce leaves around in her bowl. “I’m glad they’re admitting him. He needs help. More than we can provide.”
Jeff wiped his mouth with a napkin and swallowed his last bite. “Absolutely.”
“It’s so bizarre that this happened when he has no history in his medical records of a seizure disorder or of him taking any medication.
Even stranger was the moment it happened—we were talking about Noah Smith, and the strangest expression crossed his face—like he’d seen a ghost.” Sue put down her fork and pushed the prepackaged salad container to the side.
She clasped her hands on the table. “Something weird is going on. I can’t put my finger on it, but I have the strangest feeling that it has something to do with Noah. ”
“Hmm. Now that you mention it, there is a pattern. Him getting sick suddenly when we picked the boys up to attend Noah’s coming home party, running away at the science fair. I wonder what’s going on.”
Sue scooted her chair back. “Maybe something from his past dealings with authority figures? Let’s go see if he’s settled in his room.”
Aweek later, after counting down the days, Ashley held Noah’s hand as the plaster saw cut off the cast. Blanched, hairy legs emerged as the casts were split in half and peeled away. Noah’s legs were prune-like, his once honed muscles shrunken and weak. Noah grimaced.
“Got my work cut out for me.” He brushed his hands over the tops of his thighs and lifted one leg and then the other. “It feels so weird...like they don’t even belong to me.”