I was sitting at my desk in the accounting department of Morrison & Associates, finishing a quarterly report that had been due two days ago, when my ex-husband’s name flashed on my phone screen. My heart rate doubled immediately. Howard was at Jasper’s house for the weekend—his scheduled custody time—and Jasper never called unless something was wrong.
I answered on the second ring.
Ezoic
“Hey, so… don’t freak out,” Jasper started, which is literally the worst way anyone can begin any conversation involving a child.
“What happened, Jasper? Is Howard okay?”
Ezoic
“Howard broke his leg. He fell off his scooter. Totally a freak accident. I was right there with him. I saw the whole thing happen.”
Howard is ten years old. He’s the kind of kid who’s brave in the way that children can be—completely unaware of his own mortality, convinced that he can do anything if he just tries hard enough. He’s energetic and smart and sensitive, and he’s still my baby, no matter how old he gets.
“Is he okay? Where are you right now?”
Ezoic
“We’re at the emergency room,” Jasper said. “He’s fine. Just shaken up. They’re wrapping his leg in a cast. He’ll be completely fine.”
I grabbed my purse without even thinking about it. My boss, Margaret, looked up from her desk as I stood.
Ezoic
“Family emergency,” I said, already heading toward the door.
“Everything okay?”
Ezoic
“My son broke his leg. I’m heading to the hospital.”
The drive to Children’s Hospital took seventeen minutes. It felt like seventeen hours.
Ezoic
Source: Unsplash
In the Emergency Room
Howard looked impossibly small in that big hospital bed, like he’d somehow shrunk in the time since I’d last seen him. A bright blue cast was already wrapped from his ankle to his knee, a color meant to be cheerful but that just made him look more fragile somehow.
“Hey, buddy,” I said, moving to his bedside and leaning down to kiss his forehead. “You scared me.”
Ezoic
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. His eyes were red-rimmed from crying, and he wouldn’t meet my gaze.
“You scared me,” he said again, like he thought the apology would fix the terror I’d felt driving across the city with my hands shaking on the steering wheel.
Ezoic
“For what? You didn’t do it on purpose. Accidents happen.”
ADVERTISEMENT
ADVERTISEMENT
