I set the timer on my cell phone for 4:30 A. M. before turning in last night. I was determined to be up and ready to take Hugo to work this morning. There was only the early morning darkness and Hugo and me. It was a pleasant and gentle beginning for the day.
We drove to the hospital, Hugo bundled in his fatigue jacket and me in a tattered hoodie. Hugo held my hand most of the way, but driving with one hand on the deserted streets wasn't dangerous. Most of the traffic lights shown green, and I didn't have to stop but once the whole trip.
At the hospital I held my fingers up... "Three this afternoon?" I asked. Hugo shook his head, "No." (I had forgotten he would be working those extra three hours everyday; so three became six p.m.) Immediately I indicated I screwed up and then held up six fingers... He smiled; shook his head up and down, "Yes"; and leaned over to kiss me on the nose. I gropped his crotch, and he recoiled playfully shaking his finger at me, like a nun chastising a school boy.
I smiled coyly, and Hugo closed the car door. It's great to be in love, I recalled.
On my drive home I thought, "Hummm? What's up for today? We're going to need to talk about the dogs-- eventually... But I think we ought to wait for Hugo to be a part of that discussion."
"I've got to remember to telephone Dr. Gilmer's office to set up office visits for the boys this week. Maybe I can do that first thing, like eight-ish," I thought.
Then probably I ought to help the boys set up their rooms, and decide whether we'd need any critical things... Like I think each of them will need a study desk, chair, and lamp. (Not that I delude myself into believing that those items would be high on the "Things-To-Get" list of either of the boys; but I am ready to begin the Home Schooling thing, formally or not. I know what these kids need-- mathematically speaking-- and I know we can make real progress working here at the house, together, just the three of us...
Oh, yeah! And I almost forgot. Nicky will need some more clothes.; so we probably ought to make a short trip to Target or such,... if we go today, maybe we can get only a little bit of stuff.
It was only a little after six-fifteen a.m. when I got home; so both boys were still fast asleep. I did go upstairs and look in on both of them, just to make sure they were both breathing-- a typical new-parent's move, I told myself. And I felt love for each of them all over again when I saw them sleeping. Kids capture your heart and keep it imprisoned forever. Then I went back downstairs to the kitchen.
I didn't make any noise, because I hoped the boys could sleep late, to get as many hours of rest as possible. We had been pushing them pretty relentlessly, I think, with a little reflection. They really didn't need to be going out on all these shopping excursions, but I rationalized that the joy the boys found in the doing would probably offset the energy demands the trips placed on their bodies. At least I hoped so.
Today could be different. We could actually keep them home, in their "jammys", and ready for naps whenever they felt like sleeping.
And the no-go policy sounded pretty enticing to me too. I'd forgotten that I'm supposed to be in convalescence myself! No shaky balance for me in a day or two... good, good, I thought...
The toaster clanked and sputtered and spit two pieces of whole wheat out the top. I fixed myself a huge mug of green tea and then added a half-teaspoon of Tulse Tea...
Now that stuff is supposed to calm the nerves and keep the lungs clear as well. (Maybe I should offer some to Jilder & Nicky?) I'd become convinced that it did what was advertised, but I felt a little weird drinking the stuff. It tasted a bit like tea made from ground-up cedar shingles... the wooden kind, you know. Some stores called the stuff Holy Basal, but names are just names, if it works, it works, if not, well... forget it.
I went into our office upstairs and picked up a few basic math textbooks. No, no, I thought, these boys were probably way below these books. I'll need to pick up some 5th and 6th grade, maybe some 7th grade stuff.
So I decided to go on the internet and check out their math home schooling material. I've found some really meaningful material on the net. The mathematics there is magnificent: individuals exploring topics of interest and commenting on the work that is posted. I'm sure that there would be something I could use to get started-- maybe even today.
I grabbed a news magazine and took it with me back into the kitchen. Pouring through the conservative articles and munching on my toast and sipping "cedar shingle" tea, I greeted the sun and wondered how late the guys would sleep. I liked being with them... as absurd and demanding as they might turn out to be at any given time, I liked them both immensely.
No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than a very sleepy looking Nicky rounded the corner into the kitchen, still in his p.j.s He made a beeline for the breakfast nook and crawled on his knees into the far back of the booth. His movements were very careful as he gingerly lowered himself to his seat.
"Well, good morning, Nicky!" I said. "How'd you sleep?"
"Pretty good," he said with a yawn and a stretch-- well a 'modified-stretch' I might call it. "I was so tired, I didn't wake up even once."
"That sure sounds hopeful," I complimented him on his good report. With that I went over to the kitchen cabinet where I kept the teas and coffee and such and located the little brown bottle with Nicky's name on it. "Ok," I said. "You get one of these to keep you moving today."
"OK." he consented...
I pulled out one pill and dropped it in his hand, after which I put a glass of water in front of him. He took it dutifully and returned the glass to the table.
"What would you like for breakfast? Let me see, I could make some oatmeal with cinnamon and strawberries; or I could fix you a couple eggs-- maybe poached or even fried-- (don't tell Hugo fried) with toast; or we could make some pancakes with syrup--(also can't have these every day... so much syrup isn't good for us); what sounds good for today, Nicky?" I asked.
"Hummm?" "Could I have some pancakes AND some eggs?" he asked.
"Sure. That would be good for your healing body: protein and whole wheat too, and a little syrup to make you remember how tasty it all was..." I repeated.
"Good." He said. "And could I have some toast too, maybe?" He asked carefully, as though he might overdo his requests...
"Absolutely, " I answered, "Just give me a few minutes to whip it up. The pancakes will take the most time, cause they have to be mixed into batter first, then they ought to fry up reasonably fast. And you like poached eggs?" I asked.
"Humm?" he thought for a moment. "Yeah, with salt and pepper and butter, like at the hospital..."
"Okay." I responded. "Could you help me by getting egg out of the frig... and the poaching pan is down in the cabinet over there." This won't take long...
And I set about organizing the meal, but I made everything in double amounts anticipating that Jilder would be just as happy to take what was already fixed.
I was very pleased at how nice it smelled and how quickly it was ready to eat. I must not be as bad at this culinary thing as I'd thought--Okay... not Hugo-gourmet quality, but serviceable for two hungry kids.
Nicky had been quietly watching me mixing and grabbing things from the frig and the cabinets; however, he eventually spoke up but with some trepidation, "Do you think we could go to see my dad sometime?" Nicky asked just barely audible.
"Yes, indeed, Nicky," I said. "I'll need you to help me to plan a visit though, because I don't know where he lives, and maybe you might want to call him on the telephone first?" I asked.
"No. There ain't no telephone," Nicky said.
There was a rather long pause in our conversation.
"Well, we can go as soon as you feel ready for the drive."
"OK," Nicky said, offering no additional details. Nicky had been totally silent on his dad and where he had been living when he got sick.
I had been waiting for this subject to come up. I knew that it had to be simmering waiting for it's time. I only hoped that I would be able to make it less painful than it no doubt was likely to be. Ever the courageous little guy, Nicky was going to deal with this part of his life just as honestly as he had everything since I'd met him.
"Do you want to wait until I can take you by yourself? Like, would you rather not have Jilder along?" I asked offering to carry out his request privately if he wished.
"Hummm?" Nicky thought for a long time, then said "I don't want Jilder to see my dad because he don't look so good. He drinks a lot; so's he looks kinda bad sometime. I tried to get him to stop drinkin so much, but he couldn't stop. He really tried sometime. Like he could go maybe two or three days without no liquor, but then I'd find him drinkin and lying on the sofa..."
Why are such little people put through the pain of a lifetime? I wanted to make all of Nicky's pain go away, but I knew that we had to go through this visit, and let Nicky discover and deal with the realities himself.
"God! Why are you doing this?" I implored in my mind...
Then it occurred to me to share a little of the truth of Hugo's and Jilder's lives. No, I couldn't do that; it was not mine to share--but if only Nicky were to realize that he wasn't the only person who was being hurt, perhaps it might help him to feel his hurt allowing it to pass?
"Absolutely, Nicky. We won't say anything to Jilder. We'll just plan our visit for a time when Jilder is at the doctor's or maybe staying with Hugo or with a nurse. It'll be okay with him, actually. He won't want to hurt you by forcing you to do something that would make you feel bad."
"Good. When are you going to call the doctor's office so both of us can go to see him?" Nicky asked.
"That was something I was going to work in today myself, Nicky. Now that there's another reason to get organized, I won't forget to do it," I said.
"How soon do you want to go, Nicky?" I asked.
"As soon as I can. I don't want dad to worry about me," Nicky said.
"Sure, I can understand that, Nicky. First, why don't you eat your breakfast. Then you go up to my office, which is that other room upstairs between your room and Jilder's, and write down what you know about your address and maybe the names of any neighbors or friends that might be able to help us. And maybe we can set up something for later today..."
I had NO idea what I'd do with Jilder while Nicky and I went out searching for Nick's dad. And I had no idea what a disaster we might stumble into... "I wish Hugo could get some time off-- or WAIT!--" I thought. "There was MY nurse from the hospital, what was his name??? Oh, shit,.... Jake, Jake... YEAH! I'll phone him and see whether he could put in a little "baby sitting" time with Jilder while I take Nicky to see his dad?
Actually, that sounded a little far-fetched to me, but I was a desperate man. I really did think that for Nicky's sake we needed to move fast, lest his dad be dead!
I know that's a horrible thing to contemplate, but....
"GOD!, look what the fuck you've left for me to deal with!!!"
"I was NOT a happy camper, although I would NEVER fail to be there for Nicky; no matter how fucking awful things might turn out to be," I thought...
The food was barely finished when our second wounded warrior rounded the corner into the kitchen. "Uuum. Ummm." Jilder said. "That smells good. Is there enough for me?" he said.
"Sure," I answered. I thought you might be interested; so I made some extra. Can you handle eggs, toast, pancakes, and what? Milk or orange juice?"
"Yeah!~ goooooood." Jilder said, ever the dramatic one... Maybe it's the "Latin blood" that makes him so demonstrative? (I love my little prejudices... But I love Jilder more...:-)
And at once Jilder sat down, and the boys kicked off a conversation... first "Jilder did you get your pill yet?" Nicky asked... "No. I gotta get it too, cause my sides are hurting some this morning..."
I delivered the correct bottle of pills identical to Nicky's and gave one pill to Jilder. Down the hatch his went with an orange juice chaser.
Jilder asked, "Are you still working on Level III?" followed by an over-stuffed mouth of pancakes... "mumble, mumble, mumble, " Jilder went on...
"Yeah! It's HHHHAAARRRRD!" Nicky opined...
"Naw. You just got to work at it. Pretty soon you'll get the idea how to do it," Jilder said.
"I think I'm going to try that new game today," Jilder continued.
"Yeah! That one looks cool too," Nicky said.
"How many games do we got now?" Jilder asked.
At which juncture I SCREAMED:
"DO WE HAVE!!!!
"HOW MANY GAMES DO WE HAVE NOW!" I interjected in hopes of salvaging some literacy in this household.
"Yeah! That's what I said," Jilder told me, looking at me like I was loosing it.
"We each gots five. The same ones. Maybe we ought to get different ones and then trade em sometime," Nicky suggested.
"We each HAVE five!" I howled a second time. Both boys looked at each other and then at me like I'd just lost my mind....
"That's what I said," Nicky repeated!
(WOULD I EVER PREVAIL???? ARE THEY TOO FAR GONE???)
And they went on with their conversation ignoring my inappropriate outbursts.... ("Poor guy," no doubt, they were thinking of me....)
Jilder suggested: "Yeah! I was thinking that too. After a while we'll have so many games we can't play them all."
"How many games are there?" Nicky asked.
"I don't know. Maybe a hundred," Jilder speculated.
"Where would we PUT a hundred games," Nicky asked aghast at the possibility.
"We'd need a special box... each of us would need a big box that we could fill up with game cartridges." Jilder contemplated.
"I don't think we'd need to lock em up? Do you?" Nicky asked.
"Naw! There would be only us using them. Hugo and Kevin don't have a PSP..." Jilder gave his quick assessment of security matters.
And so with the boys enjoying each other's company and ME serving only as a de facto, un-necessary Grammarian, I decided to go upstairs and make myself useful: I could phone the hospital to find whether Jake could sit with Jilder today, and then it occurred to me that I might be able to get a name and address for Nicky's father from the Hospital or maybe even from Dr. Gilmer's office.
The boys had learned to be each other's best friend in the hospital, and that carried over to living here together. I figured that between the PSP's and their speculations about them, they were good for at least an hour or two without my management.
Or was I flattering myself that they would need my management much at all??? Noooo. I could definitely see some services that I could perform in the years ahead before I outgrew my usefulness...
And the day was only a few hours old, but it had already asserted it's demands on all of us.
Well, I'll get back to the boys in an hour or so, I thought. Then I went on up to the upstairs office.
Dr. Gilmer's office had an address for Nicky's father, that would be Nicky's former home address. I googled it and printed out a map from google maps. The address looked like it might be an hour or so away, if we moved between rush hours.
As luck would have it, Jake was off today and tomorrow, and I asked whether someone there could telephone him and ask him to call me concerning some professional services-- I hoped that would get some action.
Sure enough, in about 30 minutes the phone rang and it was Jake. I explained Jilder's medical condition, what was going on with Nicky, and how I needed someone who could handle his care for a couple of hours sometime today or tomorrow. Thank goodness Jake was happy to cover for me tomorrow, and he said that he wouldn't take any pay. It would be a favor to both Hugo and me... Now that was really sweet of him.
So we agreed that Jake would show here at the townhouse tomorrow about noon and take over; then Nicky & I could search for Nick's dad. (It would be nice if I were finished with this search well before I had to get get Hugo at six.)
Tomorrow all planned, I decided to find the boys. Things in the house had been quiet for much too long. I was still only a fledgling parent and couldn't consider that maybe the boys were in fact doing just fine without me. I did find them together in the family room one ensconced on the sofa and the other sprawled in a comfortable overstuffed chair, each with PSP in hand.
"Now, look at this, we're goin after that droid over there, the red one!" Nicky yelled.
"Yeah! I see him," Jilder responded.
"Watch out! He's got rockets. You see em?" Nicky warned.
"Oh, NO!... there he goes!" Jilder screamed.
At which point the small black boxes that both boys held sounded as if they had exploded into smithereens and both boys screamed as though they were in the heat of real battle-- and I suppose they were. Reality and fantasy blur and become indistinguishable for human beings. Is a fantasy catastrophy less painful than an actual one? I think not...
I was impressed that the boys had figured out how to join each other on their cyber battlefield using the house wifi system... How do those little fuckers DO that kind of thing??? Ask them to distinguish between "Do we got?" and "Do we have?" and you've got a major undertaking before you. But a wifi battlefield-- no problem!
"Say, listen, guys. Do you think you'd be in the mood to drive out to a Target with me later this morning? I'd like to pick up some jeans and shirts for both of you," I offered.
Both of the boys remained intently involved with their battlefield maneuvers, pushing buttons and falling back on the soft cushions. It took a few moments before my query registered.
"Um. Yeah!" Nicky answered tersely. "Yeah!" Jilder agreed.
"Anything else you need to say?" I asked.
"No." "No."
How could I have been so stupid!
So I went into the kitchen thinking that maybe I'd find one of those advertising fliers that are left at your front door. Target frequently advertised that way.
Bingo! I found one. Humm? I thought. They've lowered prices on boys jeans and a line of long-sleeved pull-over shirts, perfect for this late fall weather. I realized that we'll soon have to think about winter.
And to make ME feel better, those kids have just got to get some more socks and tee shirts and underwear. And sometime we've got to get another pair of shoes. They'll never make it with only one pair of shoes... One good thoughtless muddy splash in a parking lot and we'll need some drying time for their present shoes.
Okay... I think we can do it if they'll just cooperate. Maybe I can entice them away from their PSP's by promising a lunch and gooey desert from Coco's when we finish the shopping? Okay. My strategy formulated, I was ready to address the combatants.
"Uungh, uungh," I cleared my throat to attract a little attention.
NOTHING! The PSP battle raged on...
"Uungh, uungh," I tried again...
NOTHING!
"JILDER! NICKY! I want you guys to get ready to go to Target pretty soon-- LIKE RIGHT NOW!" I figured that I needed to get specific.
"OK."
"OK."
NOTHING.
I'd pull the plug on these electronic monsters, IF THERE WERE A FUCKING PLUG TO PULL!
"REALLY, GUYS! I think we ought to be serious about going out. Who's going to need some clothes to cover his ass and then notice there aren't any???? NOT ME, GUYS!" I tried to appeal to their logic.
"OK."
"OK."
NOTHING...
I decided to deliver an ultimatum:
"NOW, Boys! Get your coats on AT THIS INSTANT! Meet me in the garage right away!" and I left the family room.
Minutes later I sat in the driver's seat of the SUV with the garage door opened already...
NOTHING.
NEXT: I blew the fucking horn! Again! and Again and Again!!!
Two boys in windbreakers half zipped up exploded from the door out of the kitchen yelling, "We're commin.... We're commin.... Just a minute..."
Both back car doors opened and slammed and the vehicle jostled and bounced as the boys boarded.
"Okay, we're ready!" they announced in unison.
I looked over my shoulder into the back seat to see two energetic wunderkind attaching their seatbelts and looking altogether like the most terrific kids in the world, even if they were a bit "zonked out on wifi SPS." And I remembered that I loved them.... and I was pissed at them.... and I loved them!
"AAAAAAAAAAaaahahhhhhhrrrrrrrrgggggg!" (My sentiments exactly!)
"Ok, Nicky, These are your size. Now go back to the fitting rooms and try them on. Then come back out here. I want to see them on you." And Nicky headed back to the fitting rooms, where I expected I'd have to go eventually, knowing these two.
"And, Jilder, I have two pair in your size too. Go back with Nicky and put on one pair of these pants. Then come back out here; so I can inspect you." With the boys gone, I turned my attention to several racks of very nice pull-over shirts. Some had teen-appropriate graphics and some were solids. I think we ought to get 5 for each boy. That would only be one a day for 5 days. Well, it would be a start. They could pick out what they liked.
I had no more relaxed with the notion that there was an adequate selection of the things I wanted most: jeans and shirts, at reasonable prices, and that this was going to be a peasant and uneventful trip, when there was an ungodly crash or collapse or SOMETHING back in the fitting rooms.
At that hour of the morning, there were literally no other customers, and the one sales clerk, a young college-aged fellow, looked directly in my eyes and we both took off running back to the fitting rooms at the same time.
There was an assembly of small partitioned areas--maybe 12 of them-- each with its own full-length mirror, bench seats along one side, a plain straight-back chair, and louvered doors for privacy. Nicky and Jilder were the only patrons using the fitting area at the time--thank God!
The boys had chosen to use the same fitting room which was distinguishable by the closed door. I got to the door first, flung the door open, and saw two boys, one with only underwear on and the other with a pair of new jeans half-on: one leg in and one leg out of the pants. New jeans in crumpled lumps in the floor. The bench had collapsed onto the floor and the chair was turned over and Jilder was jumping around the debris yelling, "owie," "owie," "owie," while Nicky sat in the middle of the debris of the collapsed bench looking somewhat stunned.
I could give a fuck about the broken bench, I was instantly panic struck about the boys' retainers.
"Have you hurt your chest, either of you?" I shouted as I stepped into the midst of the shambles.
"No, Nicky was just standing on the bench putting on his pants and the thing broke and he slid down the bench onto his butt," Jilder volunteered.
"Then why the fuck is the chair on its side?" I demanded to know.
"It scared me, and I backed up into the chair knocking it over against the wall, and then I caught myself against the wall," Jilder explained...
"Of course," I thought, "How silly of me. This sort of thing happens all the time when one tries on new pants!"
"Oh, I'm so sorry sir," the sales clerk said.
"This should never have happened. We'll need to fill out an accident report in case there are medical expenses from any injury. Please let me call my supervisor," and the young man disappeared.
Alone, I got very interested in honesty: "Were either of you guys screwin around, jumping on the bench or the chair?" I asked.
"No, sir," Nicky replied just picking himself up from the floor.
"Are you sure you aren't hurt, Nicky? We can't take any chances. We'll need to go to the hospital for x-rays if you are feeling any pain at all. Do you guys understand me?"
"Yes. Sir," Nicky said with great respect.
In retrospect, I can say that I believed the boys' story completely. Yet, a collapsing bench just doesn't happen everyday...
The clerk returned with a scurrying middle aged woman in the lead. When she got to the room the first thing out of her mouth was, "Sir, I'm sooo sorry that this has happened. I'm afraid those benches are just not constructed to hold much weight, and clearly this one collapsed. Were either of your boys hurt? Do we need to call an ambulance?
I looked both boys in the eyes and asked, "Do we, boys? You know the seriousness of your hurting yourself with that retainer in your chests. We have to be sure, if you feel any discomfort at all."
Both of the boys shook their heads "no." But I turned to the supervisor and gave her a brief explanation of how these two boys were only a week out of surgery for a life-threatening condition which has left them with steel bars in their chests. If these bars have been disturbed IN ANY WAY, there could be serious and expensive corrective surgery absolutely necessary.
The boys both said that their chests did not hurt; but no matter. "I am taking the boys directly to their surgeon for an evaluation at this moment. This is just entirely too serious to leave it without professional intervention."
"Oh, yes, indeed, sir. You can stop back later and fill out the details of the accident report. We'll just need your name and telephone number and the boys' names."
I took out my cellphone and began snapping photographs of the entire scene as well as photographs of a similar fitting room. "These photographs may be needed by my attorney, should it be necessary to recover costs for corrective surgery."
"Oh, My," the supervisor exclaimed as she put her hands to her cheeks.
"I'm so, so, SO sorry, about this sir."
Then she turned to the clerk and said, "When you ring up this gentleman's sale, take 20% off as a token of our regret and wish to resolve this situation."
Turning to me, "Please, Sir, come back this evening while I am still on shift; so that we can complete the paperwork. You ARE going to the doctor immediately, aren't you?" she said.
"Yes, mama, and I'll certainly do everything possible to resolve this situation as quickly as possible."
With that, the boys put on their old clothes and I took the new ones, without seeing the boys in them. I wanted to get to Dr. Gilmer's office as quickly as possible to have him examine these boys...
All I wanted was a few fucking pairs of jeans. I don't know how we do it... just "gifted", I suppose.
Well, fortunately Dr. Gilmer was in his office and he saw the boys immediately. After a very brief examination he confirmed that indeed neither of the boys was any the worse for wear, although they had scared the shit out of themselves and me too!
Two hours later we returned to Target's, and when we approached the Boys' Department, we were quickly joined by the young sales assistant, his supervisor and the store manager. The store manager was somewhat circumspect in his approach, but when he learned that the boys were not hurt, he relaxed and offered me yet another 20% off our selection of 10 long-sleeved shirts.
Aside from the fact the the Dr. Visit cost me $120, getting a 20% discount from Target on our substantial purchases--twice--left me almost at "a wash," although not quite... So the clothes were not entirely "free," although very close to it.
But, of course, I'd much rather NOT have such exciting shopping trips-- no matter that there's a price advantage accrued from causing such a fucking scene!