44. The Youth Of Today
Chapter forty-four
The Youth Of Today
Stanley
Two weeks later...
“You’re going to do great. Don’t let your temper get the best of you, accept what they have to say, and apologize if you feel it’s right.
Leaving that room with your head held high should be the goal.
” Maria continues to fiddle with Drake’s tie to get it looking straight, but she seems to be having a hard time.
Her fingers are trembling too much.
“I got it.” I step in and finally get the damn thing to sit right, quickly fastening the ends together with a tie pin so that it’s held in place.
Drake looks as pale as a ghost as his stare remains fixed on the double doors. The committee responsible for this hearing is just on the other side, waiting for him to come in.
“We can go out for beers after,” Ed whispers as he claps him on the shoulder. I can tell that this whole thing is breaking him apart too and that he’s trying to keep a stiff upper lip.
“What’s happening to Uncle Drake?” Alexander tugs on his father’s sleeve, a look of bewilderment on his face. This is much too difficult for him to understand right now.
“Uncle Drake made a mistake, a bad one, and now he’s being held responsible for it. Sometimes, you have to get punished for mistakes when they hurt other people.”
“Oh. Does that make Uncle Drake a bad man?”
Drake’s eyes dart back from the door and settle on Alexander. His pallor turns from pale to a shade of green. I take a step back in case he throws up.
“Drake.” I rest a hand on his shoulder. He’s going to bolt out of here if someone doesn’t keep him grounded.
“No, Alex. Uncle Drake’s not a bad person.” Maria lowers herself to one knee so that she can speak to him, eye-to-eye. “He’s accepting what he did was wrong so that he can find forgiveness.”
“And even so, doing a bad thing doesn’t make you a bad person. It was a mistake. He didn’t mean to hurt people,” Ed adds.
Alexander looks from Maria to his father before rushing past them and colliding with Drake’s legs. He throws his arms around them in a tight hug.
“I forgive you, Uncle Drake, for... whatever you did. I still love you.”
Those four words in that small voice almost split my chest open. Even Drake’s expression melts as all of his concerns seem to float away. He leans down and holds a hand up.
“Thanks, bud. I’m glad I have you on my side.” His voice cracks a little, but he manages to hold it together.
Alexander bears a toothy grin (with a fresh gap from a recent loss a few days ago) and gives Drake a high-five.
One of the double doors cracks open slightly, and the face of a silver-haired woman pops out.
“Doctor Strickland? They’re ready for you now.”
Drake rights himself and exhales heavily. I squeeze his shoulder for reassurance.
“You’re going to be fine. We’re going to be here for you. We’re not going anywhere.”
Drake nods a thank you before adjusting the last few spots of his jacket. He squares his shoulders back, lifts his chin, and heads toward his fate.
Attaboy.
The first two hours passed by quickly as I drowned myself in more work that I needed to take care of.
Trying to find an accountant that’s capable of handling the funds I’m receiving for the hospital is turning into an exercise in futility.
Ed and Maria have already left to get Alexander something to eat.
There’s only so long a kid can stand around before getting bored; for Alex, that seems to be about ten minutes.
I cross another name off the list and move on to the next one. I know that accounting isn’t the most interesting job in the world, but surely I should be able to find someone younger than sixty to help me out with this stuff.
On top of an accountant, I need to make more connections with those who can provide me with the equipment I need, help install it all, and still be under the limit.
As happy as I am to finally get the money I’ve been asking for for years, I don’t want to throw it all away if I can save some extra just in case. A little icing on a basic cake.
I wish I’d gotten someone to help me with all of this instead of going it alone.
On the other hand, I’m glad that I am because I don’t need my plans to be tainted with extra ideas that I don’t need. But man, is it a lot of work.
After a few hours, my stomach starts to complain, and I can’t exactly think when I’m hungry. I pack up my laptop and papers, and stuff them into my briefcase. I give the double doors one last look, silently wish Drake the best, and step outside for some fresh air.
“Doctor Baker?”
I didn’t expect to be recognized on my day off, but I’m not about to pretend as if I didn’t hear them.
“Yes? Can I help you?”
Two teenage girls sidle closer, looking as if they expect me to bite their fingers off if they say one word. They can’t be much older than thirteen or fourteen.
“Uh, I’m Alison. Alison Hensley. You don’t know me, but I lived next door to Pamela Brooks. Before she...” The blonde girl wrings her hands together. This is obviously difficult for her to talk about.
“She used to babysit me when I was younger. I guess it was her way of having children in her life since she didn’t have any of her own.”
“She was a wonderful woman. It’s nice to know that she had an impact on other people’s lives.”
“She did. I should’ve come by earlier to say thanks for taking care of her, but hospitals creep me out.”
“That’s understandable, and that’s why I do what I do. I didn’t want her last place to be somewhere she feared. I want to take all the scary elements out of it so that it can kind of feel like a second home for them.”
So that they don’t feel alone or forgotten. But in Miss Brooks’ case, it doesn’t seem like she will.
“Tell him.” Her friend elbows Alison in the side. It knocks her off-balance and she stumbles forward.
“I, uh, I saw that online campaign you had to raise money and stuff, but I don’t exactly have like a credit card or PayPal, so...” She drops her backpack onto the sidewalk and roots around inside. She eventually produces a thick white envelope and hands it to me.
“It’s about three hundred bucks in there.” Her cheeks flush red and she averts her gaze.
“Three hundred...? I... What’s this for? How did...?”
“Lots of babysitting,” her friend jumps in. “And we talked to some of the other kids in our school and they chipped in too. It just kind of snowballed together after doing it for a couple of months.”
The envelope is heavy in my palm. My mouth hangs open in shock. A bunch of middle-school kids raising money for the senior wing of a hospital?
“Oh, oh no, are you going to cry?” Alison presses a fist to her mouth, her brows twisting together.
“I, uh, give me one second.” I quickly pull a handkerchief out of my pocket and press it to the corners of my eyes. With how high the emotions have been running today, it’s about time I finally broke, I guess.
“This is... This is so thoughtful. I can’t believe...” I press a fist to the middle of my chest to ease some of the tightness that’s settled there. I don’t need to break down in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Thank you. Thank you very much. Do you... Is there something in particular you’d like the money to be used for?”
The girls look at each other with a knowing smile.
“We were thinking of some kind of activity room. With tables and chairs and stuff, with games and puzzles and just things for them to do. It probably gets pretty boring in there, lying in a bed all day.”
“Heh, you have no idea.”
“And... we wanted it to be named ‘Pamela Brooks’ Playhouse.’ If that’s okay.”
Okay, there’s only so much I can handle today.
An ugly sound catches in my throat as I bury my face into my kerchief in a sorry attempt to muffle my ragged sobs. My entire body shudders and I can feel the nonexistent walls startling to close in on me.
Stupid. Stupid! Why are you breaking down like this?
“Hey, Doctor Baker? Is it okay if we hug you?” I hear the tiniest whisper to my right.
I don’t dare to remove the cloth from my face so that they don’t have to witness the state of my ugly tears.
So I nod. Two thin pairs of arms encircle me in an embrace, providing me with a modicum of comfort.
It feels like we’re standing there forever before I manage to compose myself.
“Sorry,” I mumble around the emotion still caught in my throat. My handkerchief is completely soaked, and I can feel the puffiness around my eyes already. “You shouldn’t have to see a grown man cry like this.”
“That’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with crying when you’re old.”
I snort and a big glob of snot practically shoots out of my nose. Thankfully, I manage to catch it in time and wipe it away before it hits the ground. Or one of the girls.
The other girl whispers a muffled “ew” under her breath. It’s Alison’s turn to elbow her in the side.
I can’t help but laugh.
“You girls want to come by the senior wing the next time I have a shift? With your parents' consent, of course. You could see what the place is like, what your hard-earned cash is going into.”
“Actually... we were going to ask if a few of us could volunteer a few weeks out of the summer there. Like, with just the easy stuff. Not with any of the gross stuff.”
When will these girls stop continuing to amaze me?
“Hailey.”
“What?! I don’t wanna touch blood and poop and stuff.”
“I can assure you, we’re not going to let you touch any blood and poop and stuff. Can you guys give me your parents' numbers? Just so I know who to call when everything’s arranged.”
The girls scroll through their phones and provide me with their parents’ phone numbers before half-running back up the sidewalk to wherever it was they came from.
I stare down at the hefty envelope in my hands. Maria was right. My efforts weren’t for nothing. Something good did come from all those struggles and endless phone calls and headaches.
I finally feel like my work is worth something.