Page 47 of Strum Me

Chapter Eighteen

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.