The Friends We Keep

*

“Thank God you’re here!” Morgan shouted and lunged forward. She clung to Hayley with amazing strength. “It was so horrible. He broke his leg and the bone was sticking out.”

Hayley swallowed hard to keep her stomach from rebelling. Even without details, the image was plenty frightening.

“What happened?”

“Christopher was playing at school, hanging off the monkey bars and trying some stupid trick he saw on a video game.” Morgan pushed Hayley to arm’s length and glared at her. “A video game! They’re not people. They’re not even alive. But does he get that? Where’s Brent? He said he’d be right here.”

“Breathe. There’s traffic. He’ll get here. What did the doctor say?”

Morgan covered her face with her hands. “He needs surgery. They have to set his leg and he has to stay at least overnight. I can’t think.”

“Where are the other kids?”

“With Brent’s mother. I’m sure she’s using the time to turn them against me.”

Hayley stifled a smile. Even in the middle of a disaster, Morgan maintained her sense of place in the world and knew what was important.

“You’re a freak, you know that, right?” she asked.

“Maybe, but you’re stuck with me.”

Hayley nodded as she admitted, if only to herself, she could live with that. Her sister wasn’t perfect, but they were still family. No matter what.

They sat down in the hospital waiting room. Morgan clutched her hand, squeezing occasionally. The frantic call had come just over an hour ago. Hayley had left work and come directly to the hospital. She thought about calling Rob, but he was busy with work. Brent would be here soon and he would take charge.

Sure enough, not ten minutes later, Brent ran into the waiting room. He hurried directly to Morgan. She raced toward him and they hung on to each other.

“Tell me everything,” Brent instructed.

While Morgan explained what had happened to their oldest son, Hayley watched the couple. Gone was the tension and Morgan’s restlessness. For all her complaining, she loved her family. Maybe the crisis would draw them closer. Hayley hoped so.

One emergency surgery, time in recovery and a bunch of drugs later, Christopher was finally in a room on one of the pediatric floors. Morgan and Brent had argued about who was going to stay with him. In the end, they decided they both would. Hayley had hugged them good-night and headed for the elevator.

There were a lot of children in the hospital. She hadn’t realized the number. Of course it made sense. Kids got sick or injured. She passed rooms that were dimly lit, with parents hovering or asleep on cots. Some of the rooms were filled with balloons and stuffed animals. Others had drawings on the wall—as if the stay was a long one. Just past the elevator bank, she saw light spilling from a room.

Giving in to curiosity, she eased in that direction and saw a boy sitting up in a bed. He was maybe nine or ten, bald and wearing a hospital gown. His room was empty. Oh, there was plenty of medical equipment, but no balloons, no stuffed animals.

He was thin, with big brown eyes. As she stood in the doorway, he looked up from the book he was reading and smiled.

“You’re working late.”

“What?”

“You’re from social services, right? I sometimes get late visits, but not this late.” He raised the bed a little more. “I can save you some time. Yes, the treatment is going well. Yes, I understand what they’re doing to me. The food is okay. Sometimes the nurses give me extra ice cream. When I can keep it down. I’m current with my schoolwork. Math is still my favorite subject, which is weird, so don’t tell anyone.”

Hayley stepped into the room. “I’m not a social worker.”

The boy chuckled. “So now you know too much about me. Who are you?”

“Hayley. Who are you?”

“Noah. Why are you here?”

“My nephew fell and broke his leg. He had surgery. I was visiting and I saw the light on.”

“Too bad for him. That’s gonna hurt.” Noah’s mouth twisted. “But he’ll be going home soon, right?”

She nodded. “Can I sit down for a minute?”

“Sure.” He pointed to one of the plastic chairs. “I don’t get many visitors.”

“How come?”

“I don’t have any family. I’m an orphan and I live in foster care.”

His tone was casual, as if the information didn’t matter anymore. Hayley felt the words cut her like a knife.

“I’m sorry.”

One bony shoulder rose and fell. “Nothing I can do about it.”

“How long have you been in the hospital?”

“Awhile. I have a few more weeks. It’s cancer. Lymphoma. I don’t mind talking about it. My foster parents always whisper when they say it. Like it’s contagious. But it’s not. It’s the kind they can cure. Doing chemo sucks, but it beats the alternative.”

“How old are you?”

“Eleven.”

He sounded so much older. Wise, even. He’d been through so much.