Hope. A concept I’d never found myself falling back on before. Sure, I was an optimist, but I never approached anything in my life with the hope it was going to work out the way I wanted. I approached it with the firm conviction it would. If I wanted it hard enough, trained hard enough, worked hard enough, dedicated myself completely to the desired end result, I would get it. Hope, in my opinion, was an excuse to curse fate when we didn’t get what we wanted.
And yet, here I was, hoping to fuck, hoping to a higher power I truly didn’t believe in, that the result of the blood test was going to be positive.
Huh, positive. Yeah, it put a whole new meaning on the word.
“I’ll have your daddy back as soon as I can, Tanner,” Parker said as he extended a hand toward the door, indicating for me to go ahead.
Was that because he anticipated me running away? Was he preparing to crash tackle me if I did? An image of the rotund doctor slamming into me from behind filled my head. I even heard the sports reporter’s commentary: Water’s half the size of Osmond, but whoa, what a tackle! What courage! And there’s the faceplant to the floor. Yes, yes, Osmond has been taken down. It’s going to take a while for his ego to recover from this, Bob.
“Bye bye.” Tanner’s happy farewell made me turn back. Amanda had taken my place on the edge of the bed and was now holding him on her lap. They both looked up at me, Tanner waving Optimus at me in a robotty goodbye, Amanda watching me with eyes that swam with tears and hope and fear.
“See you in a bit,” she said, drawing him closer to her with a wobbly smile.
I left with a nod. My chest ached. So did my gut. It was like I was heading toward a firing squad, not going for a blood test. But no matter how much I berated myself for my ridiculous state, no matter how much I tried to calm my pounding heart, tried to find my center, my optimism, each step I took away from Tanner’s room filled me with a cold dread I couldn’t fight off.
Until, halfway down the corridor – a corridor brightly painted with happy cartoon animals on both walls – I stopped. My feet didn’t want to move any more. I dropped my burning gaze to them, staring at them with blank confusion.
Why was I here? What was I here for?
I started to shake. I wasn’t cold, and yet I couldn’t stop shaking. My guts felt like they were in a blender. My head roared.
What the hell?
A warm, firm hand closed over my shoulder and I flinched, looking up to its owner.
“It’s okay, big guy,” Parker murmured, his eyes holding mine with a steadiness I couldn’t fathom. Okay? How was it going to be okay? How was it—
“The shock’s hit you,” he went on, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “It happens. For everyone, it’s different. But from everything I understand about you, everything Amanda has told me, I know you’re going to ride it out well.”
I stared at him, shaking. I had to hug myself. When was the last time I’d done that? Had I ever done that? Shit, I was Brendon Osmond. Brendon Osmond didn’t hug himself. But I was so cold. So cold and shaking like a—
“Breathe for me, big guy.” Parker held my stare, a gentle smile in his eyes, on his lips. His voice flowed from him, calm and commanding at once. “Take a deep breath and let it out. C’mon, you know how to do this. Breathe in . . .”
I pulled in a lungful of air. It tasted dry and like disinfectant.
Parker nodded, his smile widening. “Now out . . .”
I let out the chemical breath in a slow, choppy stream.
Parker nodded again. “Excellent. I think a cup of tea is in order before we do this.”
If his intention was to yank me out of my shock, it worked. I’ve come to realize everything Parker Waters did, no matter how clownish or lighthearted, had deeper purpose. And he saw to the very soul of people the moment he met them. Perhaps that was why I was okay with him seeing this side of me? It’s not often anyone gets to see me in a vulnerable place, a weakened place. But this stranger had just witnessed me crumpling, had guided me through it (although something about the rawness of my nerves told me it wasn’t entirely done yet), and I was good with that.
Shaking my head, I dropped my arms from around my torso and willed my heartbeat to slow. “I’m good,” I declared. Okay, I reassured. “It’s all good.”
The sounds of children in hospital – a surreal, disquieting mix of carefree laughter and subdued crying – enveloped us. I’d grown up familiar with that sound, what with the times I’d visited Mum at work, but I’d never understood the profound heartache behind it until my own child was a contributor. I’d never really thought about the torment and grief of the families in their rooms, sharing precious moments together, maybe moments all too soon taken from them . . .
The shakes started to build again. Damn it. Closing my eyes, I pulled in another breath, let it out, and repeated the action. Parker didn’t rush me, or say a word. His hand stayed on my shoulder, his silence a strength I was grateful for.
Finally, my tenuous calm returning, I opened my eyes and nodded. “I’m good,” I said again. It was almost a mantra now.
Parker smiled. “It’s going to be all good, Brendon. You and me? We’re going to make sure of it, okay? For Tanner.”
“For Tanner,” I repeated. The shakes had left me. In their place, a strange sensation had taken up residence – a holding pattern of emotions.
Parker grinned. “Then let’s, in the words of the esteemed Jean-Luc Picard, Captain of the Starship Enterprise, make it so.”
I chuckled. The guy was definitely a geek. What were the odds he sometimes came to the hospital wearing Spock ears?
It only took us a few minutes to reach Examination Room 4. We stopped at a nurse’s station first, where I signed a form giving permission for my blood to be taken and tested. I’m assuming that’s what I signed. To be honest, I didn’t read it, I just took the word of the nurse explaining it. Not like me at all.
A few feet farther down the corridor, and we arrived at our destination. A different nurse waited for us there, a kidney-shaped dish on the counter beside her. As with the rest of the hospital I’d seen so far, the colors and images painted on the walls gave it a joyous atmosphere. Strangely, I appreciated that more than I thought I would. I guess I was seeing this place through Tanner’s eyes.
“Carla,” Parker said, moving past me to enter the room, “this is Tanner Sinclair’s dad, Brendon.”
Tanner Sinclair.
Sinclair. Not Osmond.
A faint lick of anger stroked up my spine, and I squashed it just as quickly. Ego can be a stupid thing. I’ve never let it govern my emotions before, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let it now.
Carla beamed at me, her wide brown eyes warm and friendly, if somewhat curious. “Hi Brendon. I can see where Tanner gets his looks from.”
“You’re not the first to say that,” I replied.
The syringe in the stainless steel dish seemed to mock me. I had no fear of needles. I did, however, have a fear of what the result would be from this test.
“Okay,” Parker slapped me on the back. “Let’s do this.”
Carla twitched her head toward the armchair beside the counter. It was upholstered in fabric adorned with the characters from Toy Story. Buzz, Woody, Slinky Dog, Jessie, Mr. Potato Head all cavorted on the blue background, waving and smiling and generally making me want to do the same thing.