“Uh-oh,” I’d chuckled, grinning at him, “Mummy’s dropped her phone.”
“Uh-oh,” he’d agreed, pulling a someone’s-gonna-get-in-trouble face.
Amanda had stood motionless for a long moment, staring at nothing. And then, hand pressed to her mouth, she’d turned to us. Her eyes had grown comically wide above her hand, her shoulders had risen comically high beside her head, and then she’d dropped her hand and gave us both a very playful smile. “Uh-oh. Mommy’s clumsy.”
Tanner had laughed again.
A little after that, after all three of us had played with Optimus Prime for a while and Tanner had begrudgingly eaten a small bowl of porridge, Gemma returned and helped Amanda give Tanner a bath.
I offered to leave the room, but they both smiled at me; Amanda’s an empty sad one, while Gemma’s eyes clearly said “this is where you need to be”.
She was correct. Aren’t most nurses? My mother would say so.
Tanner thought the whole thing was lots of fun and did his best to get me as wet as he could. I did my best to hide my grief at the sight of his naked body. He was so thin, and the bruises I’d seen on his arms yesterday also marred his legs and chest.
But even as my mind processed the sight of the sickness obviously winning the battle for ownership of his body, my heart, my soul reveled in the delight of his laughter as he tried to splash me. And yes, he coughed a lot every time he laughed, but his eyes shone with happiness.
I told my mind to remember those eyes, that happiness. I told it nothing mattered right now, but imprinting those eyes and the happiness in them on my subconscious.
A little after the bath, Tanner began rubbing his eyes and yawning. A little after that, Amanda climbed onto his bed, stretched out and asked him if he’d give his mommy a hug.
He damn near leapt from my arms, and giggling and yawning at the same time he stretched out beside her.
If I’d counted to ten, they both would have been asleep before I’d hit five. I lowered myself into the seat, slumped into it, and breathed. Just breathed. My phone buzzed twice more, but I ignored it. The two people I needed to exist with were right in front of me.
Chase walked through the door an indeterminate length of time later. By the shadows in the room, it had to be at least an hour later, maybe longer.
“Hey,” she began, and then slapped her hand to her mouth when I put a finger to my lips.
“They asleep?” she continued, mouthing the words silently.
I nodded.
She crossed to the table, the distinct smell of fresh toast accompanying her. “Toast,” she mouthed, holding up a brown paper bag with one hand. “And this.” She held up the jar of Vegemite with the other, before making a gagging motion.
I gave her a small smile.
Placing the toast and jar of Vegemite on the table, she frowned at me. She signed something at me. I don’t think she realized she’d done it until I frowned back at her.
With a grunt, and a roll of her eyes, so like her sister’s I almost chuckled, she whispered, “What’s wrong?”
Without moving, I shook my head. “Neither Mum or Dad are a match,” I answered, my voice a low, croaky rumble.
Her frowned deepened. “Say that again,” she instructed, her hands moving again.
I realized I was speaking too low for her to hear and because I’d mumbled, she most likely hadn’t been able to pick up what I was saying via the movement of my lips.
Getting to my feet, I came over to where she stood. “Neither Mum or Dad,” I said a little louder, making sure I articulated the words, “are a match.”
Her stare jerked from my lips up to my eyes. She caught her bottom lip with her teeth in a move, once again, so like her sister’s it was surreal. “Fuck,” she muttered.
I nodded. “Fuck,” I repeated. I felt . . . hollow.
“So now,” she whispered, “is probably not a good time to tell you Dad is on his way here?”
The air vanished. Like that, there wasn’t a breath I could draw. Just an encompassing thrumming of something dark and angry. I was going to be face to face with Charles Sinclair soon. What were the odds I was going to be deported from the US for breaking a professor’s nose?
No. I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. With what he was trying to do – and I didn’t give a rat’s arse if it was because he loved his grandson and only wanted what was best for him and Amanda – the last thing I could afford to do was revert to base caveman violence. Even if it was to protect the two people I loved the most.
The irony of the situation did not escape me. I’d spent almost every day of my life since adolescence honing my body to one of peak physical perfection and strength. I’d spent the last seven years studying every aspect of what it means to be physically and mentally healthy. And all my strength, all my rippling muscles, all my fucking knowledge, served me no good at all. Life had proved once and for all that no matter how much control I thought I had over my existence, my purpose, I had none. Amanda’s father was going to be standing in front of me, and I was going to look back at him and do nothing. I had no doubt any raised voice, any show of physical strength, even if it was just a balled fist on my behalf, would be twisted into evidence that I wasn’t fit to be Tanner’s father. It may not work, but Charles would try.
I’d never felt so useless.
At Chase’s soft touch on my hand, I shook my head and let out a wobbly breath. “Can you stay here for a bit?” I asked, making sure she was looking up at me.
“Where are you going?”
I let out a dry grunt of a chuckle. “I just need . . . I just need to go clear my head.”
She frowned, and then nodded. “’Sokay.”
Huh, so that’s where Tanner got the word. I was at the door when a hand touched mine again. I turned, finding Chase behind me. Before I could ask what she wanted, she showed me. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around my shoulders and hugged me.
“I’m sorry I was horrible to you before,” she said against the side of my head. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to Mandy, like, ever.”
She released me and stepped back, her cheeks pink.
I looked at her, my stomach tight. “Why, Chase Sinclair,” I said, “did you just pay me a compliment?”
She poked her tongue out at me, rolled her eyes and flipped me the bird. “Yep.”
Chase Sinclair, everyone. There’s no one like her anywhere on the planet.
I left the room and walked the corridor of the Oncology ward, past rooms containing other children like my own, fighting an insidious illness that didn’t care it was killing a little person who hadn’t had the chance to truly live yet.
I passed the nurses station. Gemma smiled at me, so did the other nurses. Nurses I hadn’t met. Nurses who were no doubt assigned to those other children.
I kept walking. Out of the ward. Through the corridor leading to the elevator. I rode the elevator with a family whose son was a patient in the Burns Unit. They talked among themselves about his recovery, about when he was coming home. How his little sister would have to be careful for a while because his skin would be tender and still sore if scruffed up too much. His little sister complained, saying she missed wrestling with her brother.