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Chapter Nine / 2013


Abbey

"Morning Phil," I said as I passed the old man in the hallway. He tipped his hat off and waved as I passed. I was carrying a styrofoam take out box filled with chocolate chip waffles, Matty's favorite.

Considering everything, I was feeling pretty good. Kiki and I had sat on the back stoop of the Waffle House until every tear in me had been shed and she'd hugged me through it all. I felt like I'd drained all the negativity out of my system and I was starting fresh on a new, positive foot. It was the best I'd felt since Monica had taken me into her office to talk to me about Matty's current prognosis.

And to make me feel even better, I could hear Matty's musical little laugh trilling from out in the hallway as I approached his room. I smiled at the sound of it, pausing just outside the door. From here, he sounded like the happiest little boy on earth.

Then, I heard a man's voice, "It's an actual word. You can look it up in the dictionary."

"No it isn't," Matty wheezed, "It's not, you're makin' that up."

"Chickenese is a language spoken by chickens on their home planet."

My eyebrows stitched together as I walked into the room and came around the curtain. My eyes went first to Matty, who was sitting up in bed, his legs folded like a pretzel on top of the blankets, his little toes showing, leaning to get leverage to look at the Scrabble board on his tray table. He looked up at me, his face aglow. Sitting beside him was Nick, wearing a beyond wrinkled Tampa Bay Buccaneers t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that had most definitely seen better days. Nick was balancing his letter tray on the edge of the bed. He looked over at me and an unknowable look flickered onto his face.

"Mommy," Matty said, excited, "Look who came to visit again." Ecstatic is more the word. The kid was on cloud nine. He squirmed just saying the words. "Mr. Nick says we're buds now."

I took a couple steps into the room, unable to put together words in my mind, not to mention my mouth. I was stammering even in my head, I was so shocked. I put the waffles down on the bedside table and turned to look at them.

"Are those chocolate chip waffles?" he asked, peering longingly at the take out box.

"They sure are," I replied.

"Are they for me?" he asked.

I picked the box back up and handed it to him and he eagerly took it. "Have you ever eaten at the Waffle House, Mr. Nick?" Matty asked.

"I think everyone's eaten at the waffle house," we both said at exactly the same time. Nick and I met eyes over the bed as Matty laughed.

"You guys sounded like those cats in Lady and the Tramp," he hooted.

"We are Siamese if you please," Nick sang. He bobbed his head.

Matty's laugh trilled again.

I couldn't take it. "Eat your waffles, lil man, I gotta talk to Mr. Nick in private." I grabbed Nick by the wrist and pulled him out of the room, where I closed his room door gently and Nick leaned against the wall. "What're you doing here?" I asked.

Nick stared into my eyes for a long moment, then took a deep breath, "I couldn't sleep last night. I went home when I took off yesterday and I told my - my fiance about --" Nick nodded at the door, "But I couldn't sleep. I just laid there thinking about him."

My insides were squirming, and I wasn't sure if it was nerves because he'd come back and all that his return to the hospital might imply or if it was because he was looking at me and there was something about being caught in the gaze of those eyes.

"Look," Nick's voice was low, "My childhood was shitty at best. My mom and dad were alcoholics and they weren't around like they should've been. We weren't a broken family, but we were broken." Nick's eyes glistened with meaning. "If I'd known seven years ago what I know today..."

My heart nearly stopped.

Nick looked down at his shoes. "That's not true. Seven years ago I was still a drunk coke addict. I wouldn't have stepped up even if I knew back then." He shook his head, "But I'm a different person now. And... I can't just run away from this."

I didn't know what to say.

"I came back at like two in the morning," he continued in my silence, "I talked to James. I was worried because --" he closed his eyes. "I have cardiomyopathy."

"I know," I said, "I read the People Magazine article."

Nick bit his lip, "I was scared that it might've been my genes that caused... this."

My mouth went dry. I'd sat in a chair beside Matty as a baby in the hospital, hooked up to all kinds of machines keeping his little heart beating right, reading that magazine article, wondering exactly the same thing. "It doesn't matter," I whispered.

"James pulled my medical records," Nick said, "Last night. We looked at my medical records and we tried to figure it out. We spent hours. Abbey, my cardiomyopathy, it was induced by my alcoholism, but heart disease ran in my family, it was a recessive gene that I basically woke up." His eyes shimmered as they started to fill, dangerously close to tears. "This is my fault," he whispered, his voice shaking, "He inherited a weak heart from me."

My mind was spinning.

"Not only was I not here," Nick choked, "But I gave him a shitty heart." He stared right into my eyes as the tears began to slip over the rims of his eyes, "Abbey, I've broken his heart in every way I possibly could."

I had no words. I hated how being around Nick did that to me, how he stole my vocabulary right out of my mouth. I stumbled forward and wrapped my arms around him, feeling numb. He pressed his face into my shoulder and I felt the heat of tears fall, soaking my shirt. His body felt both big and small at the same time. It was like holding Matty only bigger. I ran my hands down his spine softly like Matty liked me to do when he wasn't feeling good, and I whispered, "It's okay," in his ear in my best comforting voice. The irony of knowing how to comfort Nick because I'd comforted my son a thousand times over the years created a weird sensation to rush my mind. I closed my eyes. "You didn't know," I whispered. "Neither of us blame you, Nick."

Nick struggled to pull back and stand upright. He swiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He took a shaky breath and rolled his eyes up, trying to regain composure. "Does he know -- who I am?" he asked. "Is that why he wrote the essay?"

I shook my head. "He doesn't know. He only knows you're his favorite Backstreet Boy. I wanted --" I looked at my hands. "I wanted him to know someday, so I kept your stuff. I know usually when you like see movies or hear stories about stuff like this happening the mom like throws away all her old band stuff and the kid never knows who the father was or grows up hating the guy's music or whatever but I didn't want to be that cliche. I didn't want to be bitter at you for what happened because it was just as much my fault for being afraid to call you. So I made sure he grew up hearing your music, knowing who you were... without knowing who you were."

Nick nodded. We stood there in silence for a couple moments. Nurses passed by us, eyeing us. One looked like she recognized Nick but she was trotting after a flock of doctors and obviously didn't have time to stop and react. Then Dr. Potter came down the hallway, behind her was the LNA of the day, pushing the vitals cart. "Good morning," she said, grinning at me. Her eyes flickered to Nick in surprise, "Mr. Carter. Back so soon?"

"Yeah," Nick replied and he flashed a million dollar smile her way. He had a beautiful smile, even when it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I'm sure Matthew is delighted."

"He's beating me at Scrabble," Nick answered.

Dr. Potter laughed, "He's very smart for his age." She waved the LNA with the vitals cart into the room. "I can see you two were talking," she said, "Sorry for interrupting. Carry on." She ducked into the room herself, leaving the two of us in the hallway.

I looked at Nick.

"Look," he said slowly, "I dunno if you want me to stick around or not, but..."

"I do."

He smiled shakily.




Nick

Matthew Steele was smart. He might've been only six, but he had the mind of a twenty year old. I swear. It was easy to talk to the kid, unlike most kids, who make it hard because all you feel like you can talk about is, like, the Muppets or something. Matthew Steele knew about football and he was legitimately beating me at Scrabble and he had a sarcastic sense of humor. If it hadn't been for the slight lisp to his voice it would be almost impossible to tell he was a kid.

Abbey and I went back into his room. Dr. Potter was just finishing up getting his vitals and she pulled a candy cane out of her pocket for him. Matthew grinned. "Thanks," he said. Abbey went over to his side and slid her fingers through his hair.

"I'll be back in a little bit for morning rounds," Dr. Potter said. She smiled and led the way out of the room as the nurse that had come in with her followed.

I didn't know if Abbey planned to tell Matthew who I was or not yet, so I went back to the game of Scrabble without saying anything about it. "You didn't cheat while I was gone, right?" I teased.

"Why do you think I'm winning?" Matthew asked, a twinkle in his eye.

I laughed and picked up my letters from the nightstand where I'd left them when I got up to go with Abbey to the hallway. She was watching the board from Matthew's side. "There's a lot of big words on here," she commented.

"The big words are his," I admitted. They were, too. My high scoring word was adding "-ese" to his chicken. Which wasn't even a real word.

Matthew studied the board a moment, then started plucking letters from his tray and added letters to create Spatula. I stared at my letters. There wasn't much of anything so I added it onto his spatula's T square.

We spent an hour or so that way, finishing up the game, which I lost by a wide margin. Like Grand Canyon wide. When it was almost over, my phone had vibrated in my pocket - Lauren reminding me we had to go do the grocery shopping and pick out a last couple pieces of furniture for the house together. I'd texted her back that I was on my way. So as Matthew picked up the pieces of the game, I stood up. "I better get going," I announced.

"You should stay. Myth Busters is gonna be on in a few minutes," Matthew whined.

I really enjoy that show so I meant it when I said, "I wish I could stay to watch, but I gotta get home."

Abbey took the packed up Scrabble box from the table. "I'll watch Myth Busters with you, sweetie," she said.

"You always fall asleep." Matthew looked at me, "Can't you just stay a little bit more?" he asked.

I sighed. Lauren probably thought I was halfway home by now. I was already going to be making up shit about traffic on the interstate. "I really can't. But I'll tell you what, I'll come back again real soon and visit, okay?"

"Later?" Matthew asked, his eyes pleading.

"Maybe," I answered, "I can't promise," I added as he fist-pumped the air with excitement. "It was cool hanging out with you again, buddy. Stay cool."

"Always," he replied.

I gave him a high-five and I nodded to Abbey, and I stepped out of the room into the hallway. As I walked away, I felt fatigue wash over me. It'd been like two hours of playing Scrabble and I was exhausted. I shoved my hands into my pockets. I wasn't cut out to do the whole parenting thing. I could still remember taking care of my siblings when I was just a kid myself and how it'd been so hard to always be cheerful for the younger kids, even when something was bothering me. I always had to show the brave face. It was tiring.

"Nick, wait a second." Abbey's voice carried down the hallway. I stopped by the elevator and she rushed toward me, carrying the packed up Scrabble box. She jogged down the hall to me and stopped in front of me, hugging the game to her chest.

"You like catching me at the elevator, don't you?" I teased her.

She blushed a little. "I just wanted to thank you," she said, "For coming back."

"No problem," I said. Although the phrase sounded clunky, like it didn't belong there, but I didn't know what else to say. What does one say when they're thanked for not running away from a situation like that? I didn't know. Maybe there wasn't a standard protocol for such a thing.

She chewed her lip, "Look. I was thinking." She paused. "I don't think we should tell Matty until --" she paused again. "Until you --" she took a deep breath. "Nick, I know it's weird, this whole thing, especially for you. You didn't know he existed, then you do, then you find out he's yours and he's dying and --" her voice caught in her throat.

I blinked. I had no idea where this was going.

Abbey licked her lips. "I think we should wait to tell him who you are until I know you aren't going to run away again. Just... just in case you decide you want to."

"In case I want to... what? Run away?" I asked.

Abbey nodded. "I think... given everything... you deserve to have an out if you need it," she said. "Consider it your parachute."

I nodded.

"That's all I wanted to say. I'm sorry I kept you. Again." She backed away, still hugging the Scrabble board. "I'll, um, see you. Next time. Later. Whenever."

I nodded again and the elevator door dinged open.

Abbey turned and jogged back to Matthew's room, disappearing inside.

I climbed onto the elevator and stood there, waiting for the doors to close. An old man with a walker wobbled up and I hit the button to keep the doors open for him. He slunk onto the elevator and stood beside me, clutching the handles of his walker. The doors closed and he looked over with a shaking jowl. "You're friends with Abbey Steele?" he asked in a trembling voice.

"Sorta," I answered, staring up at the numbers indicating the floor we were on, watching them go down.

"She's good people," he warbled. "Good people."

"Yeah she seems it," I replied.

"Name's Phil," he said.

"I'm Nick."

"Good to meet you Nick," he replied as the elevator stopped on his floor and the doors slid open. He started to hobble out. Then he paused, right over the door way. "See this walker, Nick?" he asked.

I nodded.

"You hurt that poor girl and I'll shove it so far up your ass you'll never get it out. You understand me?"

I stared at him in disbelief.

"Well? Do you?" he demanded.

"Yes," I answered.

"Yes....?"

"Yes sir. Phil. Sir," I stammered.

Phil nodded and waddled off down the hall. The elevator doors closed and I stared at the backside of the door.