by C.M. Kars
Matty pulls a face and shakes his head. “No way. Grandma doesn’t have Peter Pan, and Eddie’s always sleepy when I ask him to play with me.”
“Eddie?” I ask, thinking it’s Hunter’s dad. But then Matty would’ve said grandpa. I concentrate on the soup instead, letting the warmth hit my belly as I slurp it up.
Matty nods, taking another two bites from his sandwich. I reach for the plastic casing it was in and pull out the second triangle for him to eat. “Yeah, Eddie. Eddie takes care of Grandma and me, when I’m there. He makes me eat vegetables,” Matty sticks his tongue out in disgust, “and makes Grandma drinks that smell and taste funny.”
I choke on my mouthful of soup and have to swallow it down hastily if I don’t want to die. Well, I am in a hospital, so it could be a lot worse.
“Is Daddy going to stay here tonight, Sera?” he asks.
I shrug. “We’re going to have to ask him that, little buddy. When you’re done eating, we’ll go and see him, alright?”
In answer, Matty takes a giant bite out of the second triangle of his sandwich. It’s so giant, both his cheeks are blown up and I can’t make up my mind if he looks like Alvin, Simon or Theodore.
“I think you’re my favourite person, Matty,” I blurt, since it hits me so clearly and perfectly.
Matty continues chewing, but uses his free hand to blow me a kiss. That’s it, that’s all it took. Head over heels in love with this kid.
***
When we come back from the cafeteria, I decide I don’t care if the wicked witch of the west is there or not. I’m going to see Hunter in Monitored Care. Even with my assertive walking, even with my staring straight ahead like I’m supposed to be there - I get stopped by a nurse, who stares me up and down, without even looking at the kid attached to my hand.
She looks like a sexy librarian with the square black glasses she has on - even the high ponytail on her head manages to look glamorous on her.
“And you are?”
I clear my throat, straightening my spine. “I’m here to see a patient. Hunter, the diabetic?” Shit. I don’t even know his last name. Wonderful. I’ll be oh so convincing now.
“I’m looking for my Daddy,” Matty says from thigh-level. His voice is high in an excited way, like he knows whatever he’s going to step into behind that heavy blue door is going to be magical.
My heart squeezes down on itself when I think of what waits for us behind the door. How my life is going to change because I’ve given my heart to the little boy holding my hand. And how life, that putana, pulls you into shit to learn something important.
“NURSE!” Christ, that bellow, he sounds like the Beast from the Disney movie. Which means he might have a castle – which means he might have a library! God, get a grip, Sera.
“NURSE!” Hunter roars again, as the door swings open with a harried doctor coming through and nearly colliding with us. Sexy Librarian Nurse spins on the heel of her purple crocs and makes her way into the Monitored Care section. I squeeze in behind her, tugging Matty along.
“Matty!” Hunter yells, struggling with his IV drip, pulling on the tubing hard enough that the needle comes out shooting saline at everyone in a two-foot radius. I have an insane urge to laugh. Sexy Librarian Nurse attempts to calm him down, grabbing a hold of his arm to get his IV back in.
The kid pulls me with him, closer to the bed, instead of letting me go to run to his Dad which I find strangely sweet. The big guy instantly calms when he sees his kid, wrapping a big hand around Matty’s waist and pulling him close.
“You scared me,” Hunter hoarse-whispers. I shouldn’t be here. This is a family moment, and I shouldn’t be here. Matty finally lets go of my hand and creeps closer to the bed.
He giggles, the sound bubbling out of his mouth until I find myself fighting back a grin. Everyone in Monitored Care is either drugged up to their eyeballs or sleeping. The laugh sounds so out of place.
“I scared you? I think you scared Sera! She’s super strong, Daddy. I’ve never seen anyone able to hold you up before!”
Yes. My alter-ego is Supergirl.
Hunter’s muddied blue eyes come up to meet mine. His jaw tightens, a muscle popping up on the side from strain. His whole body’s gotten tight, and the hand that’s on Matty’s body spasms, like he’s trying to keep the kid away from me.
“How long are you in here for?” My voice sounds cranky, even to me. Wonderful, I am now a whiny princess. I keep going when he opens his mouth to interrupt. “Because if you’re going to be in here a couple of days, I can have Matty stay with me for the weekend. I could even call in sick Monday, if you need me to.”
I’ve somehow said the wrong thing. I thought I was just being helpful. The Cro-Magnon lying down on the bed in front of me, studiously ignoring the hottie for a nurse he has, glares at me with something like hate in his eyes.
“Or you know, you can try finding a babysitter for him from your hospital bed if you prefer,” I say, flashing my teeth at him in a smile only a moron would think was friendly. I start to turn to leave, still stinging from his rejection.
“Wait.” He grits his teeth, then shakes his head. His eyes are still glittering with something like hatred. I feel it in every cell of my body. “I don’t know you, understand? I’m not gonna leave him with just anybody. Especially a stranger. I’m a diabetic, not a crack-pot.” The way he says diabetic makes my stomach turn, like its worse than dirt, likes he’s less than human because of it.
I cross my arms over my chest, hiding my nerdy shirt. He doesn’t even deserve to look at it right now as I get a full-frontal of his entire body. They haven’t made him change into a hospital gown yet, and the nurse has finally got his IV back in. Hunter doesn’t seem to notice the fleeting pain.
“You want him to stay with Duchess of the Flies?” I ask. “Since that’s your only other option.”
Matty giggles, now sitting next to Hunter on the bed. His little hands move to cover up his mouth, like he knows he isn’t supposed to be laughing at his grandmother. Christ, a four year old gets my jokes. I’m so going to die alone.
Hunter shakes his head, and it looks like his big body settles more deeply into the hospital bed. He must be exhausted. And I’m arguing with him. The Bitch of the Year award goes to me.
I try for a gentler tone. “Look, your body has taken a beating. I’m trying to offer you some help. I’ll give you my cell number so you can call Matty every fifteen minutes if you’re up to it. I don’t know what it’s worth, but I swear I won’t do anything to hurt him. Looks like he’s the only one that laughs at my jokes,” I grin at Hunter, hoping for levity, feel it pop like a balloon when he just stares at me.
Hunter settles onto his pillow, sighs and closes his eyes. When he opens them, he looks at Matty. “You’re going to be good for Sera, right?” he asks, putting a palm on the kid’s leg.
Matty bounces on the bed, legs swinging with excitement, nodding so hard his head might pop off. “Promise!” He leans down and kisses Hunter’s cheek loudly, giggling when he’s done. “Can we watch Peter Pan tonight, Sera?”
Jesus, this kid gets me. Peter Pan is one of my favourite stories ever. “I’ve got something better for you.” I hold my hand out, wiggling my fingers when he starts taking his time.
“Buddy, cover your ears first. I gotta say something to Sera,” Hunter orders.
Matty’s face goes white on his way over to me, and the kid is Casper-pale to begin with. “You’re going to tell her bad words?”
I can’t help it. The whole bloody situation, the stress of the day, the craziness I just accepted into my life – I start laughing. Real hard laughing that could cause underwear problems in the near future.
I lean down and hug Matty close to me, wait for the reward of his little arms squeezing around my neck. “You are the best person I have ever met,” I laugh, tickling the side of his ribs. Still chuckling, rubbing the tears from my eyes, I tell the little guy to cover his ears and move closer to Hunter.
> Hunt grabs my wrist in an almost bruising force, just enough to make me feel what he can do. The logical part of my brain is telling me that this is his way of showing me the damage he’ll cause if his kid is ever hurt in my care. The girly part of me is shutting that part down quick, and screaming in my head. The rest of me’s watching dumbfounded as he drags me closer and closer to his bed.
I hadn’t noticed the dark circles under his eyes, or that they look glassy again. He looks more than bone tired, more like soul-weary. Like every day of life is another day to suffer. Another day to hurt.
“You hurt him, and I will make pain look like a fleeting memory.” I nod; it’s the only thing I can do. I can’t imagine being sick enough that I couldn’t take care of my kid, or that, for whatever reason, he doesn’t want Matty to stay with his Mom. “If he says he’s tired, check his sugar. His glucometer and Iron Man pack is at my place. You have to-”
I pull against the vise around my wrist. “He’s diabetic too?” My heart spasms in my chest, and I glance down at Matty, humming as his hands still cover his ears. Well, I said I would help out, and I will goddamn it. I look back at Hunter.
“I know how to use one. My mom’s a diabetic. I know what to do. I don’t have any junk at my house if you’re worried about him downing that.”
Hunter shakes his head, and lets go of me, settling into his bed. “I don’t want you in this. Fuck. I don’t want you in this at all.”
Well, okay, that bloody stings. I clear my throat, biting down on my back molars so I talk funny. “You’ll be rid of me as soon as you get out. Better start concentrating on getting better then, right?”
“Watch him,” he growls, trying to sit up.
“I’ll watch him.” The words sound like a pledge, a vow. “Swear to God.”
“Swear on your life,” he says, eyes burning with an intensity and desperation I would imagine seeing on a dying man with unfinished business.
I take a deep breath, giving him the words he desperately wants to hear. “I swear, Hunter. Everything’s going be fine. Promise.” I clear my throat. “Rest easy. You’ll see him in a couple of days. We’re going to OD on movies and maybe some pizza.” I grin at him, marvelling at the fact that I have been having a conversation with a seriously hot guy, and I haven’t blushed or anything. All it took was for Hunter to be in a hospital bed, but I can’t be picky. “See you soon. Matty? Come say bye.”
Matty skips over to his Dad, clearly having heard the entire conversation and gives him a squeeze around the neck and another kiss on the cheek. The kid waves goodbye with his whole arm, and grabs my hand. I tug him out of Monitored Care, and head outside to Hunter’s car.
Crisis averted. Now I just have to figure out how to keep Matty entertained for the next forty-eight hours.
Just as I pull into the parking lot, my phone buzzes with a text. It’s from Katie, asking if it’s okay if she can bring her guacamole tonight. Tonight? Tonight! Bloody hell.
I’m an idiot. A supreme idiot. What did I just do to myself? What about my weekend plans? What about the books I planned to read, and the get-together I was going to host tonight (hence all the groceries)? The groceries!And the baking I wanted to do for my mini housewarming.
I guess can google a diabetic dessert recipe that way Matty can eat some too. I’m not an asshole.
“Matty, you’re going to meet some of my friends tonight. Is that okay?” I ask, on the ride up from the basement. Or should I just cancel the whole thing? Yeah, maybe I should cancel. The kid doesn’t need this. His Dad’s in the hospital. Or maybe it will take his worry off of it?
I decide to wait until Hunter calls, and ask him for his opinion. I don’t want to be the cause of childhood trauma and white hair and expensive therapy bills in twenty years. When we get upstairs, I see that somebody’s filched my groceries. Nice. The gang’s supposed to come over in three and a half hours. For the love of Ron Weasley! I turn back around to the elevator, towing Matty behind me.
“Didn’t we just come from there?” he asks, tugging on my fingers.
“New plan. We have to go to the store and get a few things. I need to buy food and some other things real quick. You’re going to help me fix them. That way, when my friends come over, we can say you helped make their food. You’ll be like my sous-chef.”
“I don’t know what that means, Sera.”
It takes half an hour to buy everything I need. Wondering if Matty’s sugar’s high or low feels like racing a ticking time bomb, watching the seconds slip by. My hands shake as I throw groceries into the trunk of Hunter’s car, and give the Flash a run for his costume when I secure Matty in his car-seat, and head us over back home.
I make the twenty-minute drive in ten, thanking God over and over that all the city cops are either too lazy to bother with me, or you know, they’re actually crime-fighting. Matty hums a tune the whole way home, which sounds a lot like Kiss’ “Detroit Rock City”.
I give him the lighter bags to carry, and watch as he puffs out his chest and asks for more bags to carry upstairs. After dropping off the groceries at my place, we both go to Hunter’s. I get Matty to get his things that he needs to check his sugar. He goes to the fridge and pulls out his insulin, holding it tightly in his little hand. My heart hurts when I think about it, that little vial there, keeps him alive. No superpowers here, no enhanced abilities, just a syringe and a vial. A shot of pain.
I settle us back on my couch in my apartment, start scrolling through some movies that I think might be kid friendly. I settle on Transformers and laugh when Sam Whitwicky claims he’s being stalked by Satan’s Camaro. Matty’s head swings to me, smiling a little.
“How are you feeling? Hungry? Thirsty? Are you tired?” Please say no, please say no.
Matty shakes his head, and I let out the breath I’d been holding. “Are we going to make food now, Sera?”
“You bet. Come on. Let’s go wash-up and get started.”
I wonder if this is how it is, being a mom. Trying to distract your kid from doing anything crazy that’ll cause permanent damage to the walls, but trying not to laugh at the same time. God, I can’t imagine being his mom. It would hurt too much, knowing that I’m the one that carried him in me for nine months and he came out less than perfect.
“Matty, how often do you check your sugar?” I ask, pushing his hair back from his forehead. He’s sitting on my kitchen counter, staring up at me, all confused by the way his nose has crinkled and his mouth twists.
“I don’t have sugar on me, Sera. You’re funny,” he giggles, covering his mouth with his hands again. My heart squeezes down again, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into.
“That’s not what I meant, little buddy. You know that machine that checks your blood?”
“Oh. You mean Tony. I don’t know, Sera. Sometimes I do it five times in one whole day.” His arms spread out wide, to encompass how long that one day is. I stare down at his little fingers when both his hands settle in his lap again. I can’t even count how many tiny little scars from checking his blood are on the pads of his fingers.
I clear my throat, fighting back a wave of tears. Life’s really not fair.“Why do you call your glucometer Tony?”
“Tony Stark is Iron Man.” He looks at me like I should know this. I do know this.
“I don’t get it. Does your glucometer have a suit of armour or something?”
I get a Matty-grin, full of teeth and dimples. I think if Hunter has those same dimples and he really smiled at me, I’d pass out. “Daddy drew it for me! Wanna see?”
I’m torn between the need for him to check his sugar again, or causing him more pain. Better do it quick, then.
As I’m unzipping his pack (holding his glucometer, test strip bottle, alcohol swabs and the lancet), I do see that Hunter has drawn a badass rendition of Iron Man on Matty’s glucometer. It’s rectangular like an iPhone - the sides are Sharpie’d in red, the middle plates outlined in black and scribbled in with gold. The finishing touch is a
silver-blue circle surrounding the buttons which represent Tony Stark’s arc reactor, stopping the shrapnel in his heart from ripping the muscle to shreds.
I might have just fallen in love you, Hunter. Shit.
“This... is awesome. I kinda wanna keep it.”
Matty’s hands swipe over mine, grabbing Tony back with such grace and swiftness, I wonder if sticky fingers is going to be his business when he grows up. “No! Daddy made it for me. Maybe he’ll draw you something one day, Sera. I can ask him! What’s your favourite superhero?”
The simple maple syrup coffee cake I made before setting Matty on the counter is in the oven, permeating the room with the smell of a baker’s heaven. I texted Katie earlier anyway to pick up junk food if she wants to bring it over for the boys. I don’t offer an explanation. She’ll learn about Matty soon enough.
“Batman. Definitely Batman.” I snort when Matty’s face goes all are you serious? “What’s wrong with Batman? He’s a ninja. Take away Tony Stark’s suit of armour, and he so can’t fight. Batman is the best.”
Matty shakes his head and yawns hard enough to crack his jaw. His blue eyes are hazy when they meet my gaze. “Sera, I’m tired.”
Adrenaline overload. My blood rushes in my veins, and my heart wants to break through my chest it’s beating so fast.
I fumble with the test strip bottle, sending maybe twenty of them flying in all directions all over my kitchen. When I finally get one, I jam it in the wrong way in the slot of his glucometer. It takes four tries to figure it out. I rip open an alcohol swab packet, and clean the finger Matty holds out to me. The first layer of skin is puckered with little holes, flaking in some places, whole in others. I swallow and do my best to clean the whole upper knuckle area.
I stare at him when I get the little bit that pricks his finger and hold my breath while a bead of blood wells over the puncture. The kid doesn’t make a sound. Fuck me.
“I’m sorry,” Matty whispers.
Oh, man. “What are you sorry for, little buddy?” I bring his finger to the test strip I had already inserted into his machine. The bead of blood gets sucked into the strip, and the machine does its five second countdown to blood sugar detonation. Without a napkin or towel around, I let him wipe his finger on the waistband of my shorts, which gets a giggle out of him. The fist that had been squeezing my heart loosens a little, and it’s now easier to breathe.