Chapter 45
Venus
My fears and anxieties dissipate under Henry’s soft gaze as he kisses my forehead. Everything’s okay. He steps out of the curtained room just as the doctor returns with a cherry popsicle wrapped in a paper towel. Olly is pleased and distracted.
He arranges his tray to prepare for the sutures. He cleans and flushes the wound with saline and then applies a numbing cream.
“Mom, mind coming over here?” the doctor says, pointing to the opposite side of the bed. “Olly might need you.”
I don’t bother correcting him—Henry didn’t the first time he made the error. I decide to act as a surrogate in Carly’s absence, hoping she wouldn’t mind. I sit on the bed behind Olly, and he leans against me like I’m his reading pillow.
“Will it hurt?” he asks weepily, handing me his popsicle trash. I toss it in the nearest receptacle and wipe the drippings from his mouth.
“Yes,” I answer, “but it’s nothing you can’t handle. The doctor must close the wound to stop the bleeding and promote healing.”
“Will I have a scar?”
“Maybe.”
“Just like you. That’d be cool,” he says.
“Yes, scars are cool. But getting them isn’t fun. Next time you want to climb a tree, ask me to spot you. Okay?”
“Okay, sorry, Venus.”
“Accidents happen. Don’t apologize.”
“Do you think Dad’ll let me go camping again?”
“Yes, of course,” I assure him.
“Okay, this’ll hurt a bit,” the doctor warns. “Hold on to Mango, and, um, Venus.”
Olly presses his weight against me and closes his eyes.
He whimpers as the doctor works, but stays still and brave.
I imagine this is what having a child is like—a constant tug-of-war between love and fear.
I understand Henry better now, with all of his worries and what-ifs.
I feel them, too. I hate that Olly’s in pain, but at the same time, I tear up over how well he’s taking it and the adventurous, curious spirit that landed him here, all his brilliance and potential and tender-heartedness.
I barely know Olly, but I love him—love that physically hurts in this moment, hurts when he hurts.
The evidence is overwhelming that he and Henry are my family—one I can’t be thousands of miles away from.
“That should do it,” the doctor announces. “You’re my bravest patient today, Olly. Good job.”
Olly’s tension releases in a heavy sigh. The curtain screeches across the top rail, and a woman enters. Blue scrubs, a white jacket, and a beaming smile that appears surprised at the sight of me.
“Mom!” Olly calls out.
“Oh, Dr. Miller,” our doctor says, “Is this your Olly?”
“My one and only,” she says, repositioning the curtain and approaching the bed. Her hands slip into the pockets of her doctor’s coat as she assesses the situation.
“Um, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Venus,” I say, fixed in place by Olly and unsure what else to say or do.
“Hi, I’m Carly,” she says, her smile widening when her eyes meet Olly’s. “What happened, bud?”
He groans. “Fell out of a tree.”
Her hand falls to her hip. “What were you doing in a tree?”
“Climbing it.”
“Why would you do that?” she asks, her tone friendly but high-pitched.
“I dunno. I wanted to show Buster I could climb a tree, just like Venus. She does it all the time, Mom.”
She glances from him to me, and I blurt, “It’s my fault. As the guide, I should’ve given him a detailed list of dos and don’ts for our campout. I-I’m sorry.”
“Accidents happen,” Carly says, graciously. “Bumps, bruises, and breaks are a part of growing up, right, bud?”
“I guess,” he huffs.
“We’re lucky it wasn’t worse,” she adds, mussing his hair.
A dark curtain falls over the relief I felt only moments ago. It could’ve been worse. Not just worse, but devastating.
Our doctor rises from his stool. “The next stop on your hospital tour is the imaging department, Olly. Have you ever ridden in a wheelchair before?”
“Uh, no.”
“I’ll take him,” Carly says.
Henry reenters, his brow twinged with worry. He slips his phone into his pocket and runs a hand through his unruly hair. “Everything okay in here?”
Olly sits up, holding his hand out toward Henry. I take that as my cue that my surrogate-parent position has ended, so I rise, giving Henry more space. The room feels crowded and stuffy.
“Glad you two have met,” Henry says awkwardly. “Sorry, it’s under these circumstances. Carly, I didn’t think you’d get here so fast.”
“I was in the on-call room. I took an extra shift since you were on your campout.”
“Mom, it was so fun,” Olly perks up. “We had s’mores and campfire stories and—”
“I want you to tell me all about it, bud,” she cuts in, “but let me get that wheelchair. We need to take a picture of your poor arm.”
Trapped in the corner, I stay put until Olly’s wheeled off to the imaging department. Henry lingers behind with me.
“Sorry that you met Carly without me,” he says. “You okay?”
“Fine.” I pull his medicine bag over my head and hand it to him. “Um, I’ll just be in the waiting room.”
“Venus, no. Come with me to imaging,” he says, tossing the bag over his shoulder.
“I don’t want Olly to feel… conflicted. He needs you and Carly right now. Besides, I noticed a snack machine. He’ll be hungry when he gets back, and he should have something in his stomach to buffer the pain meds.”
Henry’s brow pinches unsurely.
“It’s okay,” I say. “I’ll be just outside.”
“Alright,” he nods finally. “Thanks, Venus.”
We head in opposite directions. I fiddle with my rings as I retrace my steps to the main lobby.
This is my fault. I’m responsible for Olly getting hurt. He’s hurt because of me. It could’ve been worse.
I’m overcome with sudden, sharp regret. Henry and Olly wanted me to keep them safe on their first campout. I should’ve told Olly not to wander without us, not to climb trees, not to be like me.
I practice my Ins and Outs, fighting against the unfair energy surging within me, telling me to run. I’ve promised Henry to supply snacks—a task I latch onto to keep me from racing out the sliding doors. I can do that, at least.
The lobby is slightly busier than when we first entered. I navigate the chairs and the people for the vending machines in the corner, contemplating the options. Once I have a packet of gummy bears and a cold soda in hand, I search for a salty option. But it’s hard to think.
I notice Olly’s blood smeared on my trembling fingers between my rings and under my nails.
My heart races, imagining his sneakers slipping from under him, the small branch he held onto breaking, and his head and arm smacking against the protruding root.
I picture the fracture in his arm, his small bones breaking, his tears and cries.
Maggie’s words from that horrible night long ago stream into my desperate imaginings. All Venus ever does is hurt Henry. A sob escapes me—it’s true for Henry and Olly now.
Logic tells me that Olly’s okay, accidents happen, and his body will heal with time. But the mark will remain, hiding under skin and muscle, etched into his bone. He will always have it.
And I’ll know it’s there—another mark against me, wrecking my confidence and proving that I don’t belong with them.
I belong alone.
My hand shakes as I type in the final code for a bag of chips.
Gathering the items in my arms, I turn to see Maggie and Fred rushing into the lobby.
Her brown hair is pulled into a messy ponytail at the nape of her neck.
She’s not wearing any makeup, and her wrinkled jeans and barely tied sneakers reveal that Henry’s call surely pulled her from bed.
Her hands twist around the strap of her purse, hanging diagonally over her chest.
She looks panicked, hurting for Olly and Henry. My agony compounds, especially when her eyes catch mine and narrow with disappointment. Her expression repeats what she used to say when I was a child. Accidents happen… especially around you, Venus.
Tears spill as my frustration rises. I feel like a child again, begging Maggie for time with Henry after getting him in trouble or causing him asthmatic distress.
Always at a disadvantage.
Always on the outside.
Always hurting.
Her arms fold as I approach—armor against the invasive species threatening her family.
“Venus, everything okay?” Fred asks, his lined brow etched with concern. “Henry said Olly’s fine. What’s upset you, honey?”
“I-I…” I should apologize, shoulder the blame as I did with Carly.
Perhaps if I explain it properly, we’ll all find comfort in the present facts rather than dwelling on past mistakes.
Fact—Olly is a human with freewill, which he exercised this morning.
Fact—I would never have permitted or encouraged him to climb a tree without an adult present.
Fact—Henry and Olly don’t hold me accountable for his mistake.
But logic fails under the crushing weight of Maggie’s disapproval—she looks anxious and exhausted, as if my return is akin to a prison sentence and she has to spend more decades worrying about her son and grandson in my presence.
“I knew something like this would happen,” she says, almost under her breath.
“Mags,” Fred says softly, flashing surprise at her. “It’s not Venus’s fault.”
But it is.
The daggers of guilt and shame cut deeper, twisting at the hilts. This is Venus. She’s brilliant but…
I push the snacks and drink into Fred’s hands.
“Olly’s getting an X-ray. Caloric intake will, um, alleviate gastrointestinal discomfort from the pain medicine,” I say through gasping sobs. “I-I have to go.”
I twist on my boots and race through the double doors.
“Venus?” Fred calls, but I don’t stop.
I don’t breathe again until I make it to the Jeep.