Chapter 55
chapter fifty-five
Jude
Today's vocabulary word: bond
Getting to the hospital was a blur. I knew we'd taken a highway—maybe two—and I remembered Audrey pulling up to the emergency room and saying she'd park and meet us inside.
But all I really knew was that my hands and these dish towels were soaked with my son's blood.
I watched tears pour down his cheeks and I saw the fear in his eyes.
A nurse once told me that some NICU babies experienced a form of post-traumatic stress.
They'd panic at doctor's visits. They'd melt the fuck down if they had to have a procedure or stay in a hospital.
Their bodies remembered what they'd been through even if their minds had been too young to remember.
Percy hadn't been a NICU baby but he'd spent enough time in pediatric intensive care for those rules to apply.
That nurse also told me that NICU parents weren't so different.
I knew that was true because I didn't think I'd ever shake off the sopping wet weight of watching them wheel Percy into surgery to put his leg back together.
I'd never recover from holding his chubby little hand while he lingered in a medically-induced coma and bargaining with gods I'd never believed in.
In other words, Audrey found me sprint-pacing the length of the waiting room and glaring murder at anyone who crossed my path. This poor kid had been through enough. The car accident, the fire at Brenda's house—and now this.
She steered me into a seat and said, "I'm going to ask for some gauze. Stay right here." She must've asked for more than gauze because she came back and hooked an arm through my elbow, leading us toward a nurse waiting at an open door. "Let's go, guys."
"We're going to make a stop in triage first," the nurse said, "and then we'll get you into a room."
Audrey handled all the questions, even reaching into my back pocket to fish out my wallet and insurance cards at one point.
I knew I needed to get it together but I couldn't stop seeing him fly down those stairs or hearing that scream.
The worst part was that I kept thinking about the custody hearing.
The nurse replaced the dish towel with a thick wedge of gauze and some tape. "This way, you won't have to hold it." She guided us to a curtained-off room and instructed me to recline back on the gurney with Percy, saying, "That'll help slow the bleeding."
She helped get us situated, despite my son's disinterest in having anyone touch him, and pulled a warm blanket up to his shoulders.
I didn't know why that eased the gathered tension in my chest but I felt myself deflate just a bit.
She pointed out the basin in case he puked and which button to press on the gurney's railing if he blacked out or bled through the gauze.
She adjusted the pillow behind me and gave my forearm a squeeze, and I could almost hear my brain coming back online.
I didn't know if it was the blanket or the knowledge that there were people here who could help my kid or just lying back and forcing some air into my lungs but I wasn't standing on that walkway anymore, powerless to stop him from hitting the ground.
The nurse headed for the curtain divider with a promise that the doctor would be in soon. "You're very lucky," she said, leaning in close to Audrey. "You're getting one of my favorites tonight. But don't let him know that. He doesn't need to know my secrets. I'll be around if you need anything."
When the curtain clattered shut behind the nurse, I said to Audrey, "Thank you. For all of that."
"It was nothing." She dropped onto a chair beside the gurney. "I'm just glad I remembered the quick way to get here."
"You did more than that."
I held out my free hand but she didn't take it, only frowning down at me. She popped back up, filled the basin with water, and pulled some paper towels from a dispenser beside the sink. She cleaned one hand, emptied the dirty water, and then repeated the process on the other side.
"Not perfect," she mused, "but at least you don't look like an axe-murderer."
"Thanks." She laced her fingers with mine as a stray thought hit. "Where's Bagel?"
"In his crate," she said. "He went right in when I grabbed the keys. And the dish towels and the tablet and the frozen peas."
"Okay. Good." It bothered me that I didn't remember that. Well, I remembered the peas. Percy had shrieked and kicked when I tried holding the bag to his forehead. "We gotta talk about that walkway, Saunders."
"I know, I know," she said, groaning up at the ceiling. "The problem is the—"
"It's the tree roots," I said. "We can fix that because Percy is just the first person to wipe out on those cracks. He won't be the last."
"I know it's a problem but I love that cherry blossom tree."
"Yeah, so we dig up the concrete," I said. "That part is a pain in the ass because you'll need some machinery to excavate but then you can put down something less rigid. Something that flexes better with the roots."
"Oh." Her brows creased as she considered this. "Okay, then."
I squeezed her hand. "I'll add it to my list."
"It's turning into quite the long list," she said.
"I like it that way." We stared at each other for a moment, ignoring the obvious questions about what came next and where this was going. It was getting harder and harder to ignore them and I knew I was courting trouble by trying to.
The curtain swept open, saving us from everything I wasn't prepared to say.
"Hi, I'm Dr. Stremmel. I hear we had a fall this evening." He hooked his foot around the base of a rolling stool and yanked it toward him. Swinging a glance from me to Audrey, he asked, "It was two or three steps, concrete, but no loss of consciousness?"
"No, not at all," I said. "He was on his feet immediately after he hit the sidewalk."
"That's good to hear," Dr. Stremmel said. "And Percy's been awake and lucid since then? Talking? Making sense?"
"Signing, but yes," I said, patting the gurney for the tablet. "He has selective mutism. I have all of his records here, including a brain scan from about nine months ago." I fumbled the device but Audrey caught it and swiped it open for me. "Thanks."
"Okay, I'm going to check that out in a minute but I want to start with the head wound." As Dr. Stremmel snapped on a pair of gloves, he asked, "Percy, would it be okay for me to take a look?"
Percy tightened his hold on my neck as he cut a glance toward the doctor. He thought about it for a second, burrowing a little deeper into my chest, but eventually gave a single microscopic nod. I sat up and set him beside me on the gurney. He closed some of my shirt in his fist.
Dr. Stremmel shuffled forward on the stool, saying, "Hi Percy. I'm going to take the gauze off and see what we have going on under there. If it hurts too much, just hold up your hand and we'll stop. Can you show me that? Hold up your hand? And now try it with the other hand? Great."
The doctor nodded as he studied the cut on Percy's head. He didn't appear extremely concerned about it though I had to assume that someone working in emergency medicine had probably seen worse than a four-year-old tripping down some stairs.
"All right, Percy," Dr. Stremmel said. "I'm going to shine a light in your eyes now. It's going to be quick. Can we do that? Awesome."
Percy's hold on my shirt gradually shifted from white-knuckled death grip to low-key choking as the doctor examined him. When I helped him off the gurney to walk into the hall and back, he didn't flail for my hand and that eased more of the tension in my chest.
But not all of it. The last thing—and I did mean the absolute last fucking thing—I needed right now was a brand-new head injury for this kid. Not when we had to fly back to Saginaw in a few days and go before a judge for this custody petition.
I knew accidents happened, especially with young kids, but goddamn the timing of this. It was bad enough that it always seemed like I was starting on the back foot with Penny's family but bringing him back to Michigan with half his face bruised and his forehead stitched up would only compound that.
Dr. Stremmel pushed back from the gurney, saying, "I'm not seeing any indication of a concussion but we're going to get some images anyway because kids like to hide those things from us.
While we're waiting for those to come through, I'm going to see if a friend of mine from plastic surgery is still in the building.
She might have some ideas about treating that head wound. Sound good? Any questions?"
I glanced at Audrey, wide-eyed. My brain was moving both too fast and too slow to formulate questions. "I think you covered it all," she said to him.
"Great," he said. "Sit tight and someone will take you to get those images."
When the doctor left, Percy leaned into me. As I gathered him up and settled him on my lap, he reached out to Audrey. She stood, taking his hand as she wrapped an arm around me. I let my head fall to her shoulders as a breath rattled out. I'd needed that.
"Just remember," she said. "So many of the kids who discover they have magic or defeat monsters or will receive a prophecy to save the world have a very important scar. I think this might be the beginning of an epic adventure for you."
A small, quiet laugh shook his shoulders.
"Also, I think we should talk about what we're baking for the winter holidays. You already came up with the idea for those amazing tree cakes. What else should we do?"
He had to drop her hand and my shirt in order to sign and I quickly realized that was exactly what she had in mind.
Distract him from his injuries, from the overwhelm of being in pain while people poked and prodded at him.
As we talked about his ideas—snowman donuts topped the list—and I suggested she take another stab at those chai muffins from Semantic, I realized she'd succeeded in distracting me too.
I didn't know how it was possible to love this girl more than I did yesterday and the day before and the whole decade before that but I did.
He even let her wash some of the dried blood from his face while he explained his vision for hot chocolate bread.
It was a good thing we were in a hospital because I felt like my heart was about to burst out of my chest and into her hands.
All I knew was that this was it for me. This was everything I needed. The only thing left to do was figure out how to keep it.