“He…he was staying with my mother. She’s been taking care of him while I’m away on this assignment. He loves the postman so I guess he was waiting for the postman to come in his truck. He rode out to meet him on his bike, but the postman didn’t see him, and he backed into him. Backed into my little boy!” She looks at me with horror in her eyes, picturing the scene. “And now…”
“And now, we’ll wait to see what happens and get him whatever he needs to get better. But we’re not going to worry, because that’s not going to get us anywhere. Okay?”
She doesn’t respond, just stands there wringing her hands, and I reach over and take them in mine.
“Okay?” I repeat.
“But he’s so little,” she whimpers.
“How little is he?”
“He’s turning six in a few months.”
“And we’re going to throw him the biggest fucking party a six-year-old’s ever seen,” I tell her.
Somehow that seems to calm her and her hands lie still in mine.
The elevator dings announcing our floor. I watch her as she takes a long, deep breath. As shaken as she is now, I know, I just know once it’s time, she’ll be the best mother a little wounded boy could ask for. She lets me take her hand and we head toward the nurse’s station.
“Oh my gosh. Emily! Brad!” Emily’s mother greets us, getting up from her chair in the waiting room as we walk past.
“Hi, Mrs. Butter,” I say as I let her hug me.
“What-” she starts, but Butter cuts her off.
“How is he, Mom?”
“The doctor just came out and he said they’ve just taken him out of surgery and into recovery. They’ll bring him back here when he’s up. He should be fine. They just had to put him under so they could set his arm. It, um, it broke in three places, and it would’ve been easier on the little one to put him under.” Somehow she gets through it without bursting into tears.
“And what else?” Butter asks, desperate for information.
“That’s it. Just his arm. A few scrapes and bruises, but nothing he can’t show off to his friends and be proud of. Nothing internal showed up in the x-rays, and he was wearing his helmet and there wasn’t any damage to it at all.”
“So, he’s going to be okay?” Butter asks, for the first time sounding hopeful.
“So they say,” her mom replies.
“Oh my God.” Emily sinks into the nearest chair, her head falling into her hands. Her mother follows and they hug. Hug like they haven’t seen each other in years. I step back and let them have their moment, let them comfort each other, let them be there for one another.
Brad
“Brad!”
Emily waves to me when I come back after about fifteen minutes wandering around the children’s ward. I can’t help but admire the work that goes on here, not to mention the children themselves. Everywhere I hear giggling voices, only to peek into the rooms to see tiny little babes with wires and tubes coming out of their bodies. Indestructible little angels. I make a note to come back here sometime with the band. We’ll have to brush up on our Disney covers, I guess.
“Hey, any news?” I ask as I stroll over to her.
“Yup, I’ve talked to the doctor, and they’re setting up a room for him. He should be out soon.”
“And about his injury?”
“They said he’s pretty lucky, the truck just kinda clipped the front wheel of his bike and he fell back over onto the road in an awkward position and broke his arm. He’s young so he should heal pretty quickly.”
“That’s great!” I say, genuinely relieved. It feels weird to be so happy about someone I’ve never met.
“Yeah.” She lets out a long exhale. “I have to tell you something. Before Ben comes out and it’s all about him.”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. Thank you for everything. You, Dennis, whatever powers-that-be you guys conjured to get me here so quickly, thank you. I don’t know how to pay you back…financially or otherwise, but I will.”
I wave her words away.
“Shushushushushush. You want to thank me for somehow being lucky enough to have the resources to get you here? Fine. You’re welcome. But no talk of ‘paying back.’ Financial or otherwise. This is the last time I’m going to remind you of this-we’re Brad and Butter, and this is just the shit that we do for each other.”
“Well, Brad, of Brad and Butter, thank you.” The smile she gives me makes everything I’ve ever done in my life to get to this moment worthwhile.
“You’re welcome, you little brat. You’re welcome.”
“Mommy!” A little voice speaks up out of nowhere.
Emily’s head whips around, and we see an orderly pushing a bed down the hallway toward us.
“Baby!”
She runs over and then skids to a sudden stop, as if afraid to touch him.
“Oh baby, Mommy’s here! Are you okay? I’m so sorry I wasn’t here when you had your accident, but I’m here now!” She hovers over him but without touching him.
“Can I have my ice cream now?”
She turns to me, blinking, then faces her little boy again.
“What?”
“The doctor said I could have ice cream if I was good and didn’t cry when they put the needle in, and I didn’t so-where’s my ice cream?”
“I’ll…Mommy will go ask, but, are you okay? How are you feeling?” she asks him again.
“I’m feeling like…I need ice cream, Mommy!”
“Oh, okay, okay. Sheesh, what about a hug? Mommy’s been gone for three days now.”
“Sure, Mommy!”
She leans down, careful to avoid touching his wounded arm, and buries her face in the tiny crook of his neck. There’s a soft gurgling noise from them, and I smile at their happiness to see each other.
After almost a minute the orderly clears his throat and she finally pulls away.
“Oh, sorry.”
“No problem, ma’am, I’m just gonna get him set up in his room right over here. Then we’ll get you all comfy.”