36. Omar
Chapter thirty-six
Omar
It’s amazing the difference a month can make in the life of a patient, especially one as small as Josh. Only weeks earlier, we huddled in the waiting room and wondered if the little man would live to see another day. I’d never been so scared . . . and he wasn’t even my baby boy.
Emily proved to be much stronger than any of us. I was certain she surprised herself. My chest swelled with pride as I watched her hold her son, something the Level Three nurses allowed a few times each day now, since Josh had been removed from the vent and a few thousand other monitors and lines.
“He’s going to be a football player,” I said, earning a broad, toothy grin from Emily. She brushed wisps of hair on Josh’s head. I didn’t see it make much difference, but the gesture was sweet. “And by football, I mean the only sport that matters. I believe you Yanks blaspheme by calling it soccer.”
Emily snorted. “My boy will be strong enough to play real football. You just watch.”
Josh would likely never grow to be that big. His early struggles would stunt his long-term growth. The only question was, “By how much?” I hoped Emily was right but wanted to plant the seed of less brutal sports in her mind. Maybe he could play tennis or join the chess club. Matty would slap my arm if I suggested that.
“You’ve been a real trooper,” I said.
“He really has,” she answered without looking up.
“I meant you, Emily. You have been wonderful for him.”
Her head slowly rose, a look of wonder in her eyes.
“You are so much stronger than you think. I have been here every day for a month, longer, if you count my visits before that day .” We’d come to refer to the day the alarms sounded as that day . It helped fix a point in time without reminding us too much of the pain we’d all felt. “You are growing into an incredible young woman. We’re proud of you.”
She blinked a few times, then her expression shifted, and a sly grin curled her lips.
“What?”
“You said ‘we’ are proud.” She cocked her head like a teenage girl who’d trapped someone in a logic loop—whether or not logic was involved.
“Sure, Matty and I are proud of you. I said what I meant.”
Her smirk turned into a megawatt smile. “You two are beautiful together. Matty is all sunlight and rainbows, and you . . .”
I cocked my head, and set my jaw, trying to look intimidating.
Her laugh was like a bubbling brook.
“Don’t even try that with me, mister. You don’t scare me even a little.” She poked my arm with her index finger. “You need to marry that one. You two are bookends.”
Why did teenagers make everything sound so simple? Didn’t they understand how complicated life and people and relationships were? Didn’t they get that easy answers often came with dire consequences? Why did they see the world through such rose-colored . . .
Emily didn’t even own rose-colored glasses. Her history was one of loss, of abuse, of a struggle to live.
And yet, in her youthful, if marred, view of the world, she saw things so clearly.
Matty and I had spent every night together over the last month, either at his place or mine. We didn’t care where we ate or watched TV or slept, as long as we were together. I loved him more each day than the last, unsure how such a thing was possible. The more he shared his hopes and dreams and fears—the more he shared himself—the closer we became, and the more I wondered if life could exist without him in it, if I wanted it to exist that way.
We were, in most ways that mattered, already living our lives together.
Most days, either before or after my shift, sometimes both, I visited Josh and Emily, racking up hour after hour of Level Three time without ever actually working a station. Matty joined me when he could, packing Josh’s room and requiring the staff to add a second recliner.
Of course, none of that time counted for anything professional. But being in the section, watching the nurses and doctors work their magic, taught me more than any schooling ever could.
And being with Josh and Emily . . .
I fell in love all over again, in a very different, very unexpected way.
“Marriage is a big step,” I said, desperate to change the subject.
“You love him, right?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
“And he loves you?”
I grinned. “How could one not?”
“Obvi.” She snickered. “So there. You should get married. It’s just a promise to love each other, and you already do. Sounds to me like you’re already halfway there.”
This child was going to be the death of me. How could she be so young and fragile and vulnerable while also being so strong and smart and insightful?
“And . . .” She looked down at Josh, her tone twisting into foreign territory I didn’t recognize.
“And?”
“Well, Josh and I were talking.”
I chuckled. “What did Josh have to say?”
“We want you to—I mean, if you wanted to, and we understand if you don’t, because this is a big deal and you barely know me, and I’m just a patient’s mom in your hospital, and you’re a nurse, not a family member or anything . . . and I’m being so stupid. Please ignore me. I’m sorry.”
I stared, unsure whether to feel amused or blown away by whatever windstorm had just blown through the room. The only thing for certain was that I was clueless what she meant.
“What is it, Emily? What aren’t you asking me?”
She chewed on her lower lip and played with Josh’s fingers a moment, then asked in a barely audible voice, “Can nurses keep in touch, like, after a patient leaves the hospital? Is that allowed?”
I felt a familiar lump form in my throat.
“Uh, sure. It isn’t common or normally recommended, but there are exceptions to most rules. I supposed it would depend on the situation.”
“And . . . if, say, Josh wanted to see you after he gets out of here? If he, maybe, wanted you and Matty to, I don’t know, be part of his life?”
Her questions hung in the air like storm clouds ready to break.
I sat back and covered my mouth with a hand. It was involuntary, defensive, putting a barrier between Emily and me. I didn’t want space between us, but her query caught me so unprepared . . .
“It’s stupid. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“Yes.”
Hair whipped as her head snapped up.
“Yes, Matty and I would love to be friends when you leave the hospital.”
She blinked so rapidly I thought she might be having a seizure.
“And . . .” Her voice caught.
Shit, how could there be more?
“And?” I asked.
“Well.” She gulped back nerves. “Seeing as how he doesn’t have a father—at least, not a real one who isn’t in prison—we were thinking that maybe you could be his godfather, you know, in case anything happened to me.”
“Nothing is going to happen to you, Emily,” I said with as much conviction as I could muster.
“A mother has to plan for everything, you know,” she said.
“I . . . I should probably, um, talk to Matty about this. I mean, you should talk to him, too. Holy shit—”
Her laugh cut me off. I’d never cursed in front of her.
“Sorry,” I said. “I’m just . . . I don’t know what I am right now.”
She cupped my cheek like Matty so often did, and said, “Think about it, okay? I couldn’t imagine anyone better for the job. And Josh already likes you.”
The little guy didn’t miss his cue, reaching up and gripping my finger.
My heart exploded into a million pieces.
I reached down and smoothed Josh’s almost nonexistent hair.
Torn between abject terror and unbridled joy, I let my mind dream scenes of watching him grow up, of seeing him take his first steps, of taking him to T-ball or football or soccer or whatever practice he wanted. Of feeding him ice cream and laughing as he dropped a scoop on the sidewalk. Of hearing his little laugh and letting it fill me with a father’s joy.
I let myself daydream watching him walk across a stage in a cap and gown, then toss the stupid hat in the air as he turned and waved to us.
I felt the miracle of my father’s legacy, in its own small way, living on in this tiny boy.
I dreamed our lives.
Emily and Josh . . . and Matty.
And me.
Together.