My thumb falls against my phone, and I hold it up, swallowing.
“I hope it was Southwest,” I whisper, a little stunned at the realization of what a mixture of spontaneity and panic can make someone do. “I am probably going to need to borrow some money, too. And…shit…clothes.”
Will moves to me swiftly, his hands reaching up but not sure where to touch. There’s the barrier between us that came the moment Evan’s story unraveled, but I feel like it shifted—just a little.
“Call them, Maddy. Cancel that. I’ll suck it up. I’ll be fine. It’s just a plane ride,” he says, but that fear is there still. I see it. “Please, Maddy. Don’t take this on.”
“If you see the big suitcase in the living room, just bring it to the first door on the right!” Tanya yells.
My eyes are locked on Will’s, a silent battle, each of us trying to save the other. But he doesn’t see what I see—a man whose soul is so tired that it may not have much fight left in it. My mouth opens to speak seconds before I actually do, and I wait in a sort of verbal limbo, convincing myself past those last few uncertainties.
“Got it!” I respond finally, stepping away from Will slowly, his eyes following my path.
I can feel Will behind me, but I push forward as if I’ve always been a part of this, as if I was supposed to show up here all along and make this trip with them. My hand grabs the handle of the only suitcase in the room, and I roll it along behind me, stopping at the door on the right. Will pauses a few feet short of the doorway, and I glance to see him standing with both of his arms stretched out, his palms flat on opposite hallway walls and his head low.
“That’s the one! Thanks, Maddy,” Tanya says, pulling my attention away from Will.
Inside the small room is a hospital bed with rails and monitoring devices, most of them shut off minus one that beeps periodically. A frail boy with brown hair and crystal-blue eyes struggles on the edge of the bed, his fingers curved awkwardly around one of the bedrails while his other arm hugs tightly around Tanya’s neck. His legs bend in such a way that I know walking is not possible, and as Tanya lifts him against her, struggling by herself to line him up with his chair, I can’t help but flash forward to a time when Dylan is twice this size.
“There,” Tanya breathes out, stretching her back and tugging out the band from her hair, refastening it to tuck away loose ends that Dylan pulled out when his fingers grabbed at her. “Step one of about sixty-eight-hundred,” she laughs.
I laugh lightly with her, but only for show. My eyes are captivated by the young ones that struggle to meet mine a few feet away. There is so much that is tragic and difficult, and my heart breaks seeing this glimpse of Dylan’s battle, but it also beats at everything that is familiar. Evan is there. He’s right there, even though he’s not here for any of this. I grab at my chest, and when Tanya’s back is to me, I turn to see Will—still standing with his arms stretched out. His eyes were waiting for me, and the moment our gazes lock, I understand why he didn’t want me to get this far in. It hurts too much—too much Evan.
“He doesn’t speak, other than a few sounds and almost words he’s been getting out in therapy, so he probably won’t be able to say your name, but he’ll recognize you,” Tanya says, catching my attention back in the room. I step forward, closer to her and her son—Evan’s son. She presses his hand between both of hers and squeezes, and the sensation seems to soothe him, his head shifting from side-to-side while he hums and smiles.
“Dylan, this is a friend of Uncle Will’s. Her name is Maddy,” she says.
Dylan’s head bobs twice and a sound escapes him, almost a yell, but the words are incoherent. His eyes cross paths with mine a few times, and it feels like I’m being painted with his happiness, more cooing sounds escaping his chest as he brings his other hand forward to clap with both of his mom’s.
She nods to me, so I step closer and place mine on top of hers so Dylan can touch me. His hand grazes mine a few times, his fingers almost curling around mine once, unable to hold on for more than a blip of a second. The feel of it forces a smile to my face, and when I look up into Tanya’s eyes, she’s smiling, too.
“I hope it’s okay, Dylan, but I’m making this trip with you,” I say, glancing from him to Tanya, her eyes growing wide and her smile growing. “I thought you could all use another hand.”
When her gaze moves beyond me, to the door, I know that Will has moved from his place in the hallway. I glance over my shoulder, and his eyes meet mine in an instant, speaking nothing but silent apologies.
“I tried to tell her she didn’t have to go,” he says.