Boardwalk Summer

by Kimberly Fisk

  “Joshua is going to be happy to see you,” she said. “He won’t believe it, though. A celebrity.”

  Celebrity.

  Not a friend or their father but a stranger they’d only seen on TV or the Internet or in magazines. Not that Nick expected more, but still, it stung.

  “I’m looking forward to meeting him,” Nick said.

  Arriving at their floor, Susan walked on ahead and Nick found himself next to Hope.

  She created as much distance between them as possible without making it obvious and that should have suited him just fine. But somehow it didn’t. There was nothing in this situation that fit. No road map to follow. He was doing his damnedest to figure it out as he went.

  His eyes strayed to her hands, saw the way she continually wrung them when she thought no one was looking. Part of him wanted to take her hands in his, hold them tight, offer her comfort. But then another part—the part that remembered her deceit—wanted to quicken his steps and catch up to Susan.

  Large double doors loomed before them, but instead of passing through, they veered off into a smaller room. Inside were several sinks, stacks of gowns and other medical supplies, and soap and hand sanitizer.

  Susan was already at one of the sinks scrubbing her hands with the precision of a surgeon.

  Hope explained, “Anyone who enters the oncology department has to wash first. Every patient here has a weakened immune system, so we need to do our best to make sure we don’t bring in extra germs.”

  Nick followed suit, but sometime between the soaping up and rinsing, it hit him. Like nothing else had. Reading about a disease was completely different than its ugly reality, and just behind those doors were very sick children. And his son was one of them.

  They were halfway past a nurses’ station when a nurse with hair as brown and sleek as a seal’s skin stood up and called out for Hope.

  Hope stopped and smiled at the young woman, and Nick wondered if anyone else noticed how much that smile seemed to take out of her. “Good morning, Katie.”

  “Morning. I thought we’d be seeing you shortly.” Katie turned to Susan and said hello, too. But as she was talking to them, her eyes kept straying to Nick, and he knew it was only a matter of time before more people recognized him.

  “Dr. Parker was in earlier and asked me to page him when you came in.”

  A look of utter desolation came over Hope. “Is it . . . is there something I need to know?”

  “Oh, no.” The nurse looked genuinely upset that what she’d said had caused Hope such anxiety. “I believe he only wanted to talk with you about a change in Joshua’s treatment schedule. If you could wait here for a moment, I’ll see about locating him.”

  The nurse returned to the desk and picked up the phone.

  “Susan,” Hope said. “Why don’t you take the books to Maddy? I know she’d love to see you.”

  Susan hesitated.

  “Please?” Hope said, holding out a bag. “It would mean a lot to her.”

  Reluctantly Susan took the books from her mom. She turned to leave, took a step, then stopped and turned back. “Do you want to come?” she asked Nick.

  Nick wanted to stay with Hope, hear what the doctor had to say, but there was no way he could refuse his daughter’s request. “You lead, I’ll follow.”

  Susan seemed relieved.

  “Who’s Maddy?” Nick asked a few moments later as they passed a wall mural depicting penguins taking a ride in a hot-air balloon. It wasn’t that he was overly curious about a girl he’d never met, because he was so focused on his own daughter and son right now, but he loved to listen to his daughter. To just hear her.

  “She’s a girl I met a while back. She’s got what Josh has. She’s ten and has only been able to go to school for three years—and those weren’t even in a row. She’s been sick a lot.” Susan slowed, then turned down a hallway. She hesitated for a fraction, looking at Nick. “I used to think it would be cool to be sick and not have to go to school, but now, well . . . you know.”

  Nick studied his daughter’s upturned face. In so many ways she was nearly full grown, and when he got those glimpses he felt such a sadness and an anger when he thought of all the time he’d missed. But right now, looking at her, he could still see how young she still was. “Yeah. I know.”

  They stopped at a door on the right. Susan was just about to knock when the door opened and a woman stepped out.

  “Susan,” the woman said, sounding surprised and tired.

  “Hello, Mrs. Keene. I brought these for Maddy.” Susan held up the bag of books.

  “You are going to make her day. She’s down at radiation right now. She’ll be disappointed to have missed you.”

  Susan tried hard to hide it, but she seemed relieved at the news. “Tell her I said hi and I hope she likes the books.”

  Mrs. Keene took the bag from Susan. “I’ll make sure and tell her. Maybe you can stop back by before you leave today?”

  Susan stuffed her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “Yeah. Maybe.”

  Mrs. Keene gave Susan an understanding smile. “No worries if it doesn’t work out. But I did just buy Maddy a new set of markers and a drawing pad. They’re on the chair by the window. Do you want to go in and leave her a note? I know she’d love that.”

  “Sure.” Susan turned to Nick. “Back in a sec.” She opened the door and made her way to the chair by the window.

  “Is this your first time to the hospital?” Mrs. Keene asked.

  Nick turned his attention away from his daughter. “Am I that obvious?”

  “Only to a mother who’s spent half her daughter’s life in this place.” A whisper of a smile creased her face. “Are you here to visit the children?”

  “Children?”

  “We get so many celebrities on this floor I’m getting pretty good at recognizing faces. Even football players and I’ve never watched a game!” She smiled. “You’re the racecar driver, right? The guy on the cover of People?”

  “I’m Nick.”

  “That’s right!” She readjusted the books in her arms. “Nick Fortune. Sorry. Faces I’m great with, names not so much.”

  Susan reemerged. “I left the note on her pillow. She can’t miss it.”

  “Thanks again, Susan. Maddy’s going to be so happy. But why didn’t you tell me you had a celebrity with you? My baby girl has had a few rough nights, so I’m operating on little to no sleep. I almost didn’t make the connection.”

  “Nick’s a friend of Mom’s. He’s here to see Josh.”

  “It’s such a treat for the kids to get visitors, especially famous ones,” Mrs. Keene said to Nick. “Josh is a great kid. Tell him hi from room 419. He’ll know who it’s from. Oh, and Susan? Can you ask Josh if he’d add Maddy on his Snapchat? I think that’s what it’s called.” She laughed, gave her head a small shake. “Technology and names. Not my strong suits.”

  Nick and Susan wove their way back down the hallways they’d come. Susan navigated the confusing maze with ease. As they walked along, Nick couldn’t help but see inside some of the rooms. So many young kids.

  “Here we are,” Susan said.

  With a start, Nick realized they were standing outside the door to his son’s room. As Susan started to open the door, Nick frowned. He wanted nothing more than to be with both his daughter and his son, but he knew Hope would want him to wait. Not that he felt like he owed her this courtesy, but it wasn’t for her. It was for Joshua. Nick didn’t want to do anything to upset his son. “I think I’d better wait for your mom.”

  “You’d be waiting all day, then. Once Mom gets talking to the docs, she’s gone.” Susan rolled her eyes in that typical teenager fashion that never would go out of style. “You’d think she was the doctor the way she drills them with her list of questions. I’m surprised they don’t turn and run when they see her comin
g.”

  Nick had a hard time matching the quiet girl he had known with the woman her daughter described. The Hope he’d known would not have had the courage to question doctors.

  Susan’s hand went for the door once more.

  “Still, I should—” Before he could finish, she opened the door.

  Susan seemed to hesitate for the briefest of moments before walking inside. Her delay had been so fleeting, Nick almost believed he’d imagined it.

  “Hey, Josh,” she said.

  Nick wavered, and then he saw the young man lying on the hospital bed and there was no force great enough to keep him away.

  Joshua pushed himself upright, then sat up in the bed. He grabbed the baseball cap from his bedside table and pulled it on over his thinning hair. He didn’t say a word and his facial expression didn’t change, but it seemed to Nick as if those two small acts took everything out of him.

  Nick felt paralyzed, rooted to where he stood. The young man in the bed was so different from the young man in the picture. Nick knew from the date stamp in the bottom right-hand corner that the picture had been taken just over two years ago, but looking at his son now, he would have thought a decade or more had past. Joshua’s appearance was so altered. His skin was so pale that he all but disappeared against the stark white pillowcase. The only color on his face was the dark circles under his eyes. And those eyes. Those blue, blue eyes. Nick knew them only too well. They were the same ones he saw every morning in the mirror.

  Nick had been in more wrecks than he could remember, broken more bones than he could count. A handful of years back, he’d fractured his leg two days before a race. The doctors told him it had to be casted immediately, but Nick had refused. In a cast, he couldn’t race. So for four hours behind a wheel, he’d endured excruciating pain as he pounded the track and pushed his body. He’d thought he’d known true pain. But now, looking down at his son, he realized he had been a naïve fool.

  Afraid he’d be caught staring, Nick scanned the room as he fought to rein in his emotions. In so many ways the room was a typical hospital one: a narrow, adjustable bed; a tray on wheels; a chair in the corner; a window on the far wall. Machines surrounded the bed, beeping intermittently. A bag of fluid hung from a tall silver pole; its clear fluid dripped, dripped, dripped. But that was where the similarities ended. This room looked more like a teenager’s bedroom than a hospital room.

  Photos of happier times and posters (mostly of football) covered blank spaces on the walls. A row of get-well cards lined the windowsill. In the far corner, a bundle of balloons floated, their vibrant colors a welcome relief against the dull white walls. Stacked on a shelf near a small sink and mirror were several board games and a football. A pale blue afghan lay across the arm of a chair, as if it had been left on purpose, for nights Hope stayed late and needed something to help her stay warm. A small stack of books was on the stand next to Joshua’s bed, along with an assortment of miscellaneous things: a box of Kleenex; a pad of paper; a couple of pens; a plastic cup with a straw; an opened roll of mints, its silver wrapper unfurled. Instead of hospital-issued bedding, a red and blue comforter covered Joshua. A robe hung from a door Nick thought probably led to the bathroom. Slippers were tucked underneath the bed.

  A lump settled in Nick’s throat. It was a room you lived in, not one you just stayed in for a few days. The realization nearly brought him to his knees.

  Susan sat down in the chair by the head of the bed, tucking her legs underneath her. “Nick, this is Josh. Josh, Nick. He’s a friend of Mom’s.”

  Suddenly, it occurred to Nick that he should have brought something. A gift. A card. A game. Something. “H—” Nick cleared his throat, started again. “Hello, Joshua.” Nick stood there with his empty, empty hands and felt like the outsider he was.

  “Hey. I know you. You’re a football player, right?”

  “No.” Nick shifted his weight and crossed his arms. Cleared his throat.

  “Don’t mind him,” Susan said to Nick. “The drugs have scrambled his brain.” To her brother, she said, “He’s the racecar driver. You know. Nick Fortune.”

  “Oh. Wow. Cool.” Joshua angled his head toward his sister. “He knows Mom?”

  “Crazy, right?”

  Joshua scratched his head, knocking his hat askew. Tugging on the bill, he pulled it back into place. “Where is she?”

  “Mom? Waylaid by the white coats.” Susan opened the drawer next to her and rifled through. “I stopped by Maddy’s room. She wasn’t there but her mom was. Said to tell you hi and when your phone gets fixed, add Maddy on Snapchat.”

  “That little pest,” Josh said, but it was obvious by his tone he liked the young girl. “Just what I want. More visuals of this place. But yeah. For her.”

  “Denny texted again. Said he’s gonna be in town on Friday and wants to stop by and see you.”

  “Tell him—”

  “I’m not your secretary. You tell him.”

  “I can’t, remember? My phone’s broke.”

  “Yeah. Yeah. Mom needs to get it fixed, but you do have a phone by your bed.” Susan made a motion toward the room phone. “Use it.”

  Joshua slouched in the bed. “I’m not using that phone. Text Den to stay away. I don’t want to see him.”

  “He’s one of your best friends. I don’t know why you don’t want to see him.”

  Josh shot Nick a look that clearly said he’d rather Nick wasn’t privy to this conversation. “None of your damn business,” Josh said to his sister.

  “I told you—”

  “Text him.” Josh glared at his sister, then lowered his voice. “Or I’ll tell Mom about you and Kyle. About that night you said you were at Chelsey’s.”

  Susan slammed the drawer closed. The metal connected with a loud clank. She flounced back in her chair, a deck of cards in her hands. She opened the box, upended it, and waited for the cards to slide into her hand. With stiff, jerky motions, she began to shuffle. Several cards flew onto the floor. She grumbled, then picked them up. “Fine,” she finally said to her brother.

  Through the exchange, Nick had felt uncomfortable, but he didn’t know what to do. Stay. Leave. Stay? He hadn’t realized how long he’d been staring until Josh started to squirm under his scrutiny. Nick looked away. Once again he saw the signed poster of the Seattle Seahawks and remembered the autographed football next to the board games. He walked over to where it rested on the shelf, picked it up, examined it. “Nice. You must be a fan.”

  Josh shrugged. “Not really.”

  “I’m usually out of town, so I don’t get to catch many games, but when the Vikings made it to the playoffs, I was there.” Nick gave the ball a small toss, then put it back in its stand. “Your team’s been doing great the last few years. Do you see many games?”

  “A few.”

  Susan grunted. “He watches them all.”

  Nick hid his smile. He’d never had a brother or sister, and it was fun to watch these two interact. “I tried out for football my sophomore year. Couldn’t play to save my life.”

  Joshua eyed him out of the corner of his eye. “Not at all?”

  “Total washout. How about you? Do you play?”

  Josh shrugged. “Some.”

  Susan gave another snort. “Josh has played forever. He’s the quarterback on our high school team.”

  “Quarterback. Nice.” Nick nodded in approval. “You must be good. Really good. Maybe I could watch one of your games this fall.”

  Josh averted his gaze, stared blankly out the window. “I don’t play anymore.”

  The vacant look Nick had glimpsed in Joshua’s eyes before he’d turned to look out the window tore at Nick. He’d seen that same look in fellow drivers after they’d received career-ending news. But that wasn’t Joshua’s situation. Nick knew he needed to do something—say something—to give Joshua hope. To wipe a
way that look of utter devastation that had entered his eyes. But what? What did Nick know about helping a teenage boy? Especially one who was dealing with all that Joshua was?

  Feeling completely and utterly helpless and useless, Nick stared at Joshua. Looked to Susan. He saw the cards in her hands and said the only thing he could think of: “Anyone interested in playing cards?”

  “No,” Josh said, still facing the window.

  “He doesn’t feel like it because we only play Go Fish. It’s the only game Mom knows.”

  “I can’t say Go Fish is one of my favorites either.”

  “What do you like?” Susan asked, unfolding her legs. She drew the wheeled table up close and began to shuffle once more. “Hearts?”

  Definitely not. The heart was one area Nick didn’t think he was very much of an expert on. He shook his head.

  “Gin rummy?” she tried again.

  “No. Don’t know that one either.”

  “Crazy Eights?”

  “No.”

  “Be Mean to Your Neighbor?”

  “Never even heard of that one.”

  “How about Old Maid?”

  Nick burst out laughing. “They actually have a game called that?”

  “Yeah,” Susan said, clearly exasperated with his lack of card knowledge. “How about canasta? All old people know how to play that.”

  “Old, huh?” He chuckled. “Definitely don’t know that one.”

  Susan stopped shuffling and stared at him. “Well, what do you know how to play?”

  “Poker.”

  Josh turned back around. “Poker?”

  “Yeah. It’s about the only card game I know, but not sure you two would be interested.”

  “You’re not talking about poker where you play with matchsticks or pretzels or toothpicks, are you?”

  Nick dug into his pocket and pulled out some change and a few small bills. “Sorry. This is all I got.”

  A smile broke out across Joshua’s face. Leaning over, he opened the same drawer Susan had been searching through earlier. When he sat back up—a bit winded, Nick noted—he held a small plastic container. He emptied it onto his comforter, and a jumble of change spilled out. “Mad money,” he said. “Or, at least that’s what Mom calls it. For a run on the vending machines if I feel like eating. Susan’s got the whole place staked out.”