by TJ Fox
Sitting in an ER room alone with a six-year-old boy that I’ve only known for… I look at the time on my phone… damn, it has been over 3 hours now, waiting for the nurse, still waiting to hear from Dylan, just… waiting, is an endurance test for my patience.
I’m debating with myself over what to do about Dylan’s absence. There are consent forms that will need to be signed. I’m surprised B is even getting seen without those signatures. Then again, I don’t know the first thing about what they will and won’t do for a minor without a parent or guardian present. I’m just grateful he’s being looked at.
But B needs his family, not some stranger turned… babysitter? companion? friend? to be here with him through all of this. It’s no wonder he’s so frightened. Not a single person in this building is someone he’s familiar with, even in passing, besides me. What a sad, scary thing for him to go through.
The worry and frustration at the situation is kind of like a little war inside my head. Dylan has got to realize what he’s putting this kid through by not showing up. I can’t even begin to understand where his head is at. Unless there is a good reason he isn’t here, which is even more reason to be worried.
What if something happened to him and Simone and Riff on the way to drop off Riff? Car accident. Robbery gone wrong. Should I have asked for Riff and Simone’s phone numbers, just in case?
Just because he was a mess earlier doesn’t mean he is out there intentionally making a bigger mess of things right now and that he doesn’t want to be here. I’m trying to give him the benefit of the doubt here. B is his brother after all. He would be here if he could. Right?
I’m grateful for the nurse walking in. He interrupts the thought-train derailment going on inside my head and keeps me from imagining all kinds of awful scenarios. He’s got a clipboard and what looks like the stuff to start an IV.
“I’ve got your consent forms for treatment and all the tests Dr. Morrisey ordered for you to sign off on. I’ve also got some good stuff for B-Rad to help take some of that hurt away. Ready to get into a funny hospital gown?” The last is directed at B.
“Um, I can’t sign any forms. I’m not his parent or guardian. Can he still get what he needs without a signature?”
The nurse pauses in getting the IV ready and looks over at me. “You sure? I was told everything was in order. I’ll get him started and go double-check.”
We manage to get B undressed and in the hospital gown, something I feel awkward doing, but B doesn’t seem to mind. The nurse has everything laid out on a tray next to the bed. B is back to squeezing my hand really hard and is curling tightly into a ball. I rub his back and lean down to whisper to him.
“It’s okay, B. He needs to put this in your arm, so he can start giving you medicine to make you feel better.”
Through more tears, he yells, “It’s gonna hurt, then I’m gonna die!”
I run my hand through his hair, worried about his reaction. “Oh, no! Sweetie, no. You aren’t going to die. This will make you feel better. I won’t promise that it won’t hurt because all needles sting a bit, but once the medicine starts to work, you’re going to feel so much better. None of that is dangerous. You aren’t going to die.”
“They poked Mom with a needle, and then she died. I don’t want that! No!” Shoulders shaking with his sobs, he cannot calm down.
“Hey, shhh! B, listen to me, please.” I pull him to me and hug him.
“I don’t know what happened to your mom. I’m so sorry that she isn’t here with you right now, but I know that she’d tell you the same thing. You are totally safe here. This will make you feel better, and nothing bad is going to happen.”
I glance up at the nurse. He is on the phone at the front of the room by the door. “B, you need to calm down and listen, sweetie. Everything is going to be okay. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I won’t let anyone do anything to hurt you. You’re going to be okay.”
B is sniffling hard but trying to stop crying. Eventually, he squeezes my hand again. “Just don’t let go. Okay, Teri? Don’t let me go.”
“Not for anything, B. We’re going to get you better, just hang on to my hand, and we will get through this. I’ll be right here.” I feel the weight of responsibility that comes with the words even before I say them. “I promise.”
I nod to the nurse to go ahead.
B cries a little at the poke of the needle but stays still and just squeezes my hand until the nurse is done. The nurse sets aside a couple of vials and picks up another, smaller vial and needle.
“B-Rad, you did really good. Now, I’m going to start the medicine. It might feel a little weird because it’s cold, but this part doesn’t hurt. Once it has a chance to work, the pain will start to go away, and you’re going to start feeling better. You will probably even sleep for a while. As late as it is, that’s probably a good thing.” He does something else with the IV and then grabs the clipboard he brought in with him along with the other vials. “I’ll be back in a little while to check on him and let you know what I find out about his paperwork.” With a little wave to B, he walks out of the room, dimming the lights on the way.
I sit back down, so it’s easier for B to stay curled up and look at me while we talk. “B, you amaze me. You are so strong and brave going through all of this even though I know you hate it. I’m so proud of you.”
“I’m not brave. I’m scared and a crybaby.” He wipes at his tears, and I hand him a tissue for his running nose.
“Being brave doesn’t mean that you aren’t scared, B. Being brave is being scared but doing what needs to be done anyway. So yes, you absolutely are brave. You are probably the bravest person I know, and I think that is awesome.”
His teary smile is so bright and is probably one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. What I wouldn’t give to have my camera right now because that is one image I’d love to hang onto.
“As for being a crybaby, I’d be one too, you know.” Nodding, I lean to whisper, “I cry every time I get a shot. I hate needles.” That brings out the most precious giggle. It makes admitting my little secret well worth it.
I can tell the meds are starting to work because the creases on his face are starting to relax, and his eyes get droopy. I pick back up where I left off on our book and read to him until he falls asleep just a few minutes later.
I set my phone aside and just sit and watch him. And wait.
Chapter 5
B has been asleep for about an hour, the meds having knocked him out, but the nurse hasn’t been back in yet, so I have no idea if they will even be able to do the tests. It’s just after 10p.m., and I haven’t heard a thing from Dylan. I’m tempted to hunt down the nurse to see if I can find out if they’ve heard anything or know how much longer it’s going to be, but my promise to B not to leave keeps me in the room.
Finally accepting I can’t do this on my own, I call Jules. She’s probably starting to get worried because she hasn’t heard from me yet. She confirms that when she answers on the first ring, telling me that she’s been walking around with her phone in her hand.
“Dish, girl! I’ve been waiting all night to hear from you. That must have been one hell of a date for you to admit to major drama.” I can hear her moving around, probably getting settled in for a long chat.
“Jules, you have no idea. I’m so lost and confused and worried and scared. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m sitting in the ER with a six-year-old boy that I’ve known for less than 5 hours, holding his hand because there’s no one else here. Dylan isn’t returning my calls or texts, and he’s either just a total bastard that doesn’t give a shit that his little brother is in the hospital, which I struggle to believe, or something has happened to him, and I have no way of finding out. I don’t know if I should be worried or pissed or both, and I don’t know what I’m doing and dammit! I’m scared!”
Apparently, I’m way
more stressed than I realized. Just hearing Jules’ voice breaks the hold I have on my emotions, and a massive rush of jumbled, confusing information comes gushing out.
“Whoa there! Back up! You’re where? Why? What the hell is going on, Teri? You leave to go on a date and end up in the ER? Are you okay? What the fuck kind of date was this? This isn’t giving me a great impression of Dylan.”
I take a deep breath, go back and explain my night in detail. It feels better to have it all out there, but I still don’t know what to do. I have no frame of reference for this situation.
She listens patiently until she has all the facts before speaking. “They haven’t brought in a social worker? I would have thought they would at least have a few questions about a child that young being brought in by someone who might as well be a total stranger.”
I get up and pace, trying to keep my voice down, so I don’t wake B. “No, we’ve only seen a couple of nurses and the doctor. I’m still waiting for them to come and tell me if they can even do whatever tests need to be done without Dylan here. I can’t just leave B all alone, so I’m stuck here for now. You know I wouldn’t abandon a kid in need. He is all alone, except for me.”
I hear the door slide open, and I look up to see the nurse coming in again.
“Hey, the nurse just got back. I’ll call you once I know more. Thanks, Jules. I needed you.”
“Call any time, no matter how late. Love ya, Ter.”
“You too. Bye.” I put my phone back in my pocket as the nurse walks over.
“So, everything’s in order. We’ve already got all the consent forms signed. We’re just waiting for the results on the blood work. That will probably be back within the next half an hour or so.”
“What? How is that possible? Who signed?” Did they make some kind of mistake? “You are talking about paperwork for Boo Radley Jackson, right? That isn’t a common name, so there can’t possibly be a mix-up.”
He flips through several pages of the paperwork. “Says here consent was signed for by a Dylan Jackson, relationship brother slash legal guardian.” He shoots me a questioning look. “Isn’t that who you were expecting?”
Pain gathers across my forehead because my brows are so tightly scrunched together. My poor brain is nothing but a mass of confusion.
What the hell is going on? “I don’t… What… How could he have signed? I’ve been trying to get ahold of Dylan all night. Did he finally show up? Where the hell is he? Shouldn’t he be in here?” I’m getting loud, nearly shouting, and this poor nurse is probably thinking I’m about ready to tear into him. None of this mess is his fault, so I stop and try to calm down. Deep breath in. Out.
“Sorry. I’m not yelling at you. I’m just utterly lost and confused, and I just don’t understand. Do you know where Dylan is?”
“Why don’t I go talk to the gal who had him sign the paperwork, and I’ll be right back?” Giving me a weak grin, he walks out. Probably thinking I’m the one that should be getting looked at… in the psych ward.
I am still pacing around the room a few minutes later when Rae from the front desk walks in. She is wearing the most outrageous scrub bottoms I’ve ever seen. They are so bright, with so many different colors. If I had to look at them for very long, they just might trigger a seizure.
“Tyler said you had some questions about the consent forms? Didn’t figure it was worth it to explain everything to Tyler, then have him try to pass it to you, so I just came on over myself. Plus, I wanted to see how lucky boy is doing.” She looks over to where B is sleeping. “Good that he’s sleepin’ now. Poor thing.” It’s easy to see the compassion in this woman.
I assume Tyler is the nurse that will probably be trying to avoid the crazy woman in the room with the sick kid. “Tyler said that Dylan signed the forms. Was he here? Is he still filling out paperwork?”
“Yes, he came in and filled out all the necessary forms and updated the insurance information. I told him you asked for him to be sent back here.” The confused, sad look on her face as she’s talking doesn’t seem to mesh with her words, so I don’t think I’m truly hearing what she is saying.
“As soon as he finished filling out the forms, he handed me an envelope along with a medical power of attorney for B-Rad, said they were for you. Then he told me that you would be taking care of the rest and left. We got swamped right after that, so I didn’t have a chance to let you know what was going on. For that, I’m really sorry. I should have come to you sooner.”
I can feel the crease deepening between my eyes even though there is no room left. “I don’t understand. Dylan left? Why? Is he coming back? Did he say anything? Why would he expect me to take care of anything? I barely know this kid. What on Earth is going on!?”
She comes over, pats my arm and softly says, “The medical power of attorney gives you the ability to make medical decisions for B-Rad without needing Dylan’s approval. You didn’t know about this?”
I just shake my head.
“Maybe you can find some answers in this?” She hands me a large, legal sized envelope and a paper with an official looking seal at the bottom. Glancing over it, I see my name and the words “power of attorney” and Dylan’s signature next to the seal.
“But… I don’t even know B. Why? I don’t understand. Can he even do that?” I’m hoping she can explain this to me because it just doesn’t make any sense.
“Well, sure. Parents do it all the time when they leave their kids with relatives or friends for any length of time. Usually, it is only temporary and done as a precaution if something happens while they are gone, but it’s pretty simple to do, and we see these every once in a while.”
I open the envelope and find several papers, a few business cards and another, smaller envelope with my name on it. One group of papers is stapled together. At first glance, it is obvious they are legal. I flip through the pages and find where Dylan has, yet again, signed. This time it’s alongside a name I don’t recognize and has the same official looking seal next to the signatures. There is also a blank a line with my name under it.
I flip back to the first page and read past the legal jargon to get to the English parts, the parts that say that Dylan is appointing me full guardianship of 14-year-old Riff Marcus Jackson, 11-year-old Simone Renee’ Jackson, and 6-year-old Boo Radley Jackson. There is more buried in the text, but I can’t get past the word “guardianship” to dig out any real meaning.
“I don’t understand.” I look up at Rae and hand her the papers, showing her all that was in the envelope. “What does this mean?”
I watch her as she takes the papers and looks over them. I’m hoping to see her laugh or… something… to indicate this is just some stupid practical joke. What I see instead mirrors my own confusion. I feel my stomach drop.
After she finishes reading, she looks up at me. I have no clue what she sees on my face, but it’s enough to concern her. “Oh, dear. Come on and sit right down. You’re a bit pale.”
I feel a little sick, like there isn’t enough air, and the blood has fled my brain. Rae is right. If I don’t sit, I’m going down whether I want to or not, so I let her help me back to the chair.
“I don’t understand.” The phrase is playing on repeat in my head, just echoing around because every single thought that has ever held residence up there just packed up and fled. My mind is blank of everything but the word “guardianship” followed closely by each of three kids names. This doesn’t make sense.
She pulls up a chair next to me and pats my hand. “Well, it looks like he is granting you guardianship of those three kids, but I don’t know anything about these kinds of things.”
As soon as her words sink in, I screech, “WHAT?! That isn’t possible!”
“Shhh! Honey, you don’t want to wake the boy. Now calm down and think for a moment before you let the emotions take over. Let me go find someone who may be in a better
position to help you figure out what’s going on. It’s going to be alright. We will help you get this all straightened out.” She pats my hand, stands and hurries out of the room.
This must be some messed up dream. Did I eat something bad? Am I hallucinating? I must be because reality just isn’t this twisted. There is no way that Dylan somehow managed to make me the legal guardian of his siblings. I don’t even know if he can do that legally. Can he? No, no. This isn’t real. I’m going to wake up in my bed seriously regretting eating that leftover take-out that was questionably past its expiration and realize this was just some crazy, whacked out dream. Everything will go back to normal when I wake up. Yeah, normal.
I look over at B still sleeping in the bed, looking so small under the thin hospital blanket. I’m going to hate that he isn’t real when I wake up. That part won’t be so good since I’m already kind of attached to him.
I take a deep breath in, smelling the typical hospital scents of antiseptic and bleach. Looking around the room, I take it all in, the gloves and paper towels in the trash by the sink, the monitor in the corner by the bed, the sounds from outside the room. Slowly, it starts to sink in, but just in case, I reach over and grab the meaty part of my arm and pinch. Hard. Damn! Not sleeping. Oh, fuck! Dylan, what the hell did you do?
We have to be wrong. Maybe Rae and I just misunderstood those papers. That part can’t be real, not “Here, have some kids!” real. That isn’t possible. There must be some sort of mistake. That’s the only logical explanation for how crazy all of it sounds. When Rae gets back, we will get it all cleared up, figure out what B needs to get better, and we can all get back to our regular lives. Yes! Just some stupid misunderstanding.