“Can he talk?”
The nurse gave a small nod. “Short sentences. He’ll be weak, don’t push him too hard tonight.”
Aku slid a chair up to the bed and grabbed his hand. “You hear me, baby? You made it. You here.” Sniffling, she just rubbed his hand.
He blinked slowly, his mouth barely parting. “You okay?”
She nodded fast. “I’m good - just been waiting on you to open your eyes.”
He looked around, breathing shallow. “Where…?”
“Emerald City…my parents’ house. You’re safe.”
The nurse checked his vitals and the monitor again and glanced down at Malik’s chart. “I’m gonna give him a small dose of pain meds now, but we’ll keep it light until he can tell us how much he wants.”
“I don’t want none,” Malik rasped.
Aku looked at him. “You sure?”
He nodded. “Just Tylenol - no opioids.”
The nurse paused, but didn’t argue. “Okay, I’m going to get a transport ready. You need to go to the hospital and have another chest x-ray done.”
“Can he come back or does he need to stay in the hospital? Aku asked, still afraid of him being to accessible, even if he washalfway across the country. The nurse gave her a sympathetic look.
“Depends on what the scan shows.”
“I’m good.” Malik did his best to squeeze Aku’s hand.
Aku just nodded.
The nurse adjusted the line and gave him a sip of water before quietly slipping out the room again.
“Boy,” Solar said, standing on the other side of him once she made her way in. “My baby love you…you better do right by her or I’m on your ass.” Aku’s yelling had alerted her.
“Mama!” Aku laughed.
Malik tried to laugh too, but his chest was on fire.
“Welcome to the family, my boy! This is the legacy of my brother…he gon’ look out even from the moon.” Solar winked before kissing Aku’s head and leaving them alone. “Oh and don’t worry about French…I know how to keep him in line.”
“Ugh,” Aku scrunched her nose.
He blinked slowly.
He tried, but still couldn’t lift his arm, but his lips moved.
“I heard it,” he rasped. “I heard our baby…”
Aku broke, sinking her face into his neck, crying like it was the only language left she could speak.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry I didn’t protect you better.”
“Nah…” he swallowed, hard. “You saved me…again.”
He didn’t know how long it would take for the fog to clear, or how deep the wounds went.
But in that moment, laying in Aku’s childhood bedroom, in a houseful of people who loved him—who chose him—Malik finally felt what it meant to behome.
