“I’ll figure it out.” The words come out sharper than I intended. “Sorry.”
“I understand. Take all the time you need.”
I squeeze Amy’s hand one more time. “I’ll be back, sis. You just focus on getting better.”
The drive to Henry’s daycare passes in a blur. My phone keeps buzzing with calls from the hospital, probably wondering why I disappeared in the middle of my shift, but I ignore them. Nothing matters right now except getting to Henry.
Sunshine Daycare is a cheerful building with colorful murals painted on the walls. Under normal circumstances, I might appreciate the effort to make it welcoming. Today, it just looks like another place where children wait for adults who might not come back.
The director, Mrs. Black, meets me at the front desk. Her relief is obvious when I introduce myself.
“Thank goodness. We’ve been so worried. How is Amy?”
“She’s stable.” It’s not really an answer, but it’s all I can manage right now.
“You’re listed as Henry’s emergency contact, so there shouldn’t be any problem with you taking him home.”
Home. My pristine, so-not-childproofed house that’s never seen a diaper or a bottle.
Mrs. Black leads me to the infant room, where Henry sits in a high chair, banging a plastic spoon against a tray. When he sees me, he gives me a toothless grin that makes my chest ache.
“He’s been such a good boy,” Mrs. Black says, gathering his things. “Here’s his diaper bag, and there are bottles in here for tonight. His schedule is taped to the inside of the bag.”
I take the bag, which weighs more than I expected.How much stuff does one baby need?
“Do you have a car seat?” she asks.
Car seat. Of course. “No.”
“That’s okay. We have a spare one you can borrow. Just bring it back when you get a chance to buy your own.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m driving home with Henry strapped into the car seat, babbling to himself like nothing has changed. But everything has changed. My sister is lying unconscious in a hospital bed, and I’m responsible for a six-month-old baby who depends on me for everything.
The thought terrifies me.
Back at my house, I park in the driveway and take a deep breath. “Okay, buddy. What do we do now?”
My phone rings, and I see our parents’ number on the car screen. I’ve been dreading this call.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Jordan, honey, there you are. I have a missed call from a Boston number, but when I called back, no one answered. Do you know if?—”
“Mom. I, uh, I have some bad news about Amy.”
The silence on the other end stretches so long, I wonder if the call dropped.
“What happened?” Dad’s voice now, gruff with worry.
I tell them everything I know, watching Henry play with the buckles on his car seat while I explain about the accident, the coma, the uncertain timeline for recovery.
“We’re coming up,” Mom says immediately. “I can have us on a plane tonight.”
“No.” The word comes out more forcefully than I intended. “Dad just had surgery. You can’t travel right now.”
“Jordan, this is Amy we’re talking about.”
“And I’m telling you that flying across the country three weeks after a hip replacement is not going to help anyone.” I soften my tone. “I’ve got this handled. I’m at the same hospital. I can check on her constantly, and Henry is safe with me.”
