But for crying out loud
Just give me a chance to hide away..."
- Jars of Clay, "He"
Chapter 7
The Boy Who Was
Nineteen Years Ago...
It was four o'clock in the morning, Christmas day, when Mimi's phone rang. The trill of the phone broke through the heavy new-fallen-snow silence that had crystalized the house. Mimi's hand groped through the darkness of the room until she'd clasped the receiver and brought it to her ear. "Hello?" her voice was low with sleep and muffled by the pillow she was still face-down on.
"Mim? It's Justin," came the familiar voice of one of Mimi's past children. Justin had come into Mimi's care when he was fourteen and had gone on to become a pediatrician at a local hospital. "I- I didn't know who else to call."
Mimi, alert by the need of one of her kids, even if he had grown up, sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. "Justin, what's the matter?" she asked.
Justin's voice was hesitant, "Mim, there's - there's a boy here, at the hospital. We've taken him into protective custody, and - well," he paused, "It's Christmas," he said.
Mimi rubbed her eyes, "What happened?"
"Come down and I'll explain it to you while you fill out the paperwork," Justin said. "Please, Mim."
"I'll be right there."
Luckily, Mimi's brother, George, was there for the holiday and she was able to leave all the kids with him while she went down to the hospital. Mimi kicked on her boots and pulled her jacket on over her warm, fluffy house coat, and shuffled through the ankle-deep snow to her car.
When Mimi came through the doors at the ER, the nurse on duty at the reception desk recognized her. "Hey Mimi," she said. She glanced around, "No kids? What's wrong?"
"Dr. Oberhaus called me," Mimi said by way of explanation.
"Oh you must be here for that poor little boy," the nurse nodded, "Hold on a second." She turned to her phone and started dialing numbers. A moment later, "Dr. Oberhaus? Mimi Taylor is here."
Mimi looked around the waiting room. A little girl played with a pile of blocks in the corner while her mother sat in a plastic chair, massaging her forehead and weeping silently. A young man was holding an ice pack to his left eye in another chair a few feet away. The waiting rooms at hospitals always made her stomach flippety-flop and she quickly looked away, back to the nurse.
"Dr. Oberhaus is on his way down," the nurse said.
Mimi wished she remembered the woman's name.
A couple moments passed before Justin came through the double doors to the patients area, wearing the long white coat that was a doctor's trademark. He was carrying a clipboard and a sheath of papers a mile thick. Justin adjusted his glasses and struck out his arm, "Mim!" he called when he saw her, and wrapped that free arm around her. "I wish this was under better circumstances," he muttered, "I've really missed you."
"You know where Iive, you could visit," Mimi said, pretending to be grumpy. She hugged Justin tightly. "Look at you, playing doctor," she smiled.
Justin grinned. "Thanks to you," he said, and he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.
"Now tell me about this kid you've dragged me down here to see?" Mimi asked.
Justin pulled her along through the double doors and through the bowels of the hospital. Everything smelled like sick and ammonia. Mimi hated the way hospitals smelled. "There was an emergency call about two-ish," he explained, "From a little boy across town saying his mother was hurt." Justin pushed opened some doors that said medical staff only and led Mimi down a very plain corridor. She felt like a VIP with a backstage pass. "When the emergency team got there, they found the results of some very severe domestic violence," Justin barrelled on as they walked. Their footsteps echoed in unison against the empty white walls.
"Very severe?" Mimi repeated his tone.
Justin nodded. "Mim, this poor kid's been through Hell."
"What happened?"
"He hasn't said," Justin admitted.
Mimi frowned. "Is he hurt?"
In response, Justin pushed open a door that led into a private hospital room. A bed with animals painted on the headboard was pushed into one corner, and on the bed, in a mess of pillows and softest blue blankets, was a little boy. No more than six, Mimi calculated, analyzing him. He was asleep, his brown hair dirty and disheveled. His little chest was bound in bandages, indicating rib cage damage, and he had dark, swollen patches on his face, by his eyes and a small split across his nose.
Mimi covered her mouth.
Justin was biting his lips.
"Where's his parents?"
"His father's in police custody," Justin answered. His voice faded, halted, hesitant.
"And his mother?" Mimi asked. When he didn't answer immediately, Mimi looked back at him. "Justin?"
Justin swallowed. "They did everything they could," he answered.
Mimi turned back to the little boy with a heavy sigh.
"Mim, I knew that if anyone could help him... it would be you. And, well, we took him into protective custody, and I asked them if I could contact you instead of the state ward that usually takes protective custody kids. I knew he'd be better off going to you." Justin sighed, "The kid needs a break, he needs -" The doctor shook his head, "It's not fair. And on Christmas," he added.
Mimi nodded. "Thank you for calling me," she mumbled, "You're right. He will be better off with me." She stepped up to the bed and gently took hold of the little boy's hand.
She had no clue who he was, but she already loved him more than he'd ever been loved in his life.
"What's his name, do you know?" she asked.
"We think it's Nicky," Justin whispered, "That's all his mother kept asking was 'Where's Nicky?' the entire time they were trying to save her."
Mimi looked at the sleeping form of the little boy on the bed. "Nicky," she whispered. She reached down and softly brushed the hair off his forehead, "Well, it's going to be okay now, Nicky," she said quietly. "It's going to be okay now."
Christmas wrapping lay everywhere around the living room at Mimi's house. Kids were perched on various seats, hugging their gifts to their chests. Mimi started collecting shreds of paper and discarded ribbons and pushing them into a trashbag. With a glance around the room, she smiled - everyone seemed pleased with their gifts.
Well, she realized, almost everybody.
Nicky was sitting awkwardly in a large, overstuffed maroon chair, wearing footed pajamas that were too big for him carefully cradling an unwrapped package on his lap. He was staring at the glittering ribbon with the saddest eyes Mimi had ever seen. His messy, but at least clean, brown hair hung over his forehead in disarray - a look that Mimi would eventually come to tolerate and even adore.
She dropped the trashbag and walked over to him, wading through the remaining wrapper shards, and sat on the arm of the chair. With a gentle touch, she pushed back the hair from his eyes and forehead and asked, "Aren't you going to open your present from Santa, Nicky?"
He shook his head.
"Why not sweetie?" she asked.
"I want to save it," he whispered.
"Save it?" she asked, "What on earth for?"
"I just want to keep it," he said.
"But if you open it up, you can play with what's inside," she promised.
Nicky looked up at her. "I never had one before."
Silence had seemed to fall in the room just before he'd uttered the words. Everyone's eyes were looking at him. His tiny fingers moved across the smooth surface of the wrapping paper and the ribbon and his eyes travelled around its contours. He looked back up at Mimi. "I just want to keep it. It's too special."
