“Let me page a nurse.”
“Thank you.” I sigh. It’s harder than it looks holding a bunched-up throw pillow to a screaming child’s head. If throw pillows can’t be used as compression to soak up blood, what other use can they possibly have?
A nurse emerges from a set of double doors and greets us, smiling at Crew. “Do you want to see your mom?”
Crew nods, and I struggle to keep the pillow in place. The nurse is good at her job, and while Crew is distracted with a badge on her scrubs, swaps the throw pillow for a wad of gauze. I drop the mangled throw pillow in a garbage can. Hopefully, Lyndi doesn’t have the same sentimental attachment to throw pillows as my brother-in-law does, because that one’s not making it home.
The nurse walks us back, talking to Crew in a calm voice the entire way. “Your mom is getting a cast on her hand right now, and she chose blue because she said it’s your favorite color. Do you like blue?”
Crew nods again.
The nurse pushes open a door to reveal Lyndi and another nurse, who look like they are wrapping things up.
Not anymore.
Lyndi gasps. “What happened?” She jumps off the table and is by Crew’s side in a split second. I’ve been dreading this question since Crew started crying. What happened is that I hurt everyone in my care.
I swallow hard against the emotion clogging my throat. “We were trying to clean up the boxes. He fell and hit his head on the coffee table.”
“That stupid table. I’m getting rid of it tomorrow,” Lyndi says.
I’m still waiting for the blame. For her to call me out on all my faults.
“Mommy.” Crew cries louder and tries to crawl into her arms, but she’s in no shape to hold him.
“Hey, buddy, do you want your mom to sit on the bed with you?” The nurse suggests and Crew thankfully agrees as a doctor enters the room.
“Let’s get you patched up now.” The doctor smiles at Crew and pulls a sucker out of his pocket.
I let out a breath. This guy came prepared.
Thirty seconds later, the doctor determines that Crew needs stitches, and I’m not sure who is more terrified, Lyndi or Crew. I’m kind of scared myself.
“I want you to hold on to your daddy really tight,” the doctor says to Crew.
The blood freezes in my veins.
“Oh he’s not—” Lyndi starts at the same time I do.
“I’m not—”
But my words are cut off when Crew grabs hold of me like I’m the last Spider-Man toy left in the world.
I can’t look Lyndi in the eyes; I don’t want to see her disappointment in Crew’s reaction. Her disappointment in me.
The doctor pulls out a needle, and the tiny emergency room becomes a battlefield. Crew lets go of me and clings to Lyndi while fighting the rest of us off. It’s four against one and he’s winning.
“I know this is hard, but I need you to hold him down,” the doctor tells me.
It takes everything in me to grab Crew and pin him down, to purposely put him in harm’s way. His shattered cries set off a nuke in my chest, slowly destroying every fiber of my soul.
Not only is he crying now, but so is Lyndi.
The seconds last hours, even though the doctor is working as quickly as he can. Each poke and pull digs deeper into my heart.
I swallow the lump in my throat. I betrayed Lyndi’s trust in me to keep Crew safe, and Crew’s trust in me to protect him. I let both of them down. My vision clouds and I turn my head before anyone can see my tears fall. I deserve this pain for hurting them.
My arms shake around Crew. I don’t want to hurt him anymore, but I don’t want to make Lyndi do it either. She does all she can to comfort him, but the cries only stop when the doctor is finished and we are discharged.
