It must have been a card because the next thing I know, she’s signing a slip of paper and quietly making her way with her child onto the well side of the waiting room. Are you fucking kidding me? The kid wasn’t even sick?
The whole group turns to me again.
“You can go ahead,” the guy who was next in line says, motioning for me to take his spot.
“Thank you.”
Fifteen minutes later, Walker and I are sitting in the sick side of the waiting room with masks over our faces. We found a bench seat, and Walker is laying with his head in my lap. I can’t remember the last time he did this, not since he was a little, little kid and even then he normally only does this type of stuff with Mandy.
Closing my eyes, I think back to what she does to calm him down and make him feel better. I realize quickly that I’ve left so much up to her and she’s left a lot up to me. Instead of working as a team, we’ve always gone by the divide and conquer motto, but I’m beginning to think all we did was divide ourselves. A memory comes to me, of her rubbing his forehead, pushing his hair back, and before I can talk myself out of it - I copy the motion.
“That feels good,” he whispers, his eyes heavy.
“How long have you been sick?” I question. It might as well just be the two of us in the room. If anyone deserves my undivided attention, it’s this kid I love with everything I have.
“I started feeling bad a few days ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought you had enough to deal with, with Mom.”
He’s not even a teenager yet and he’s already trying to spare feelings? That’s how I grew up, but it’s never how I wanted him to grow up. All of a sudden I think I failed him. I’ve done everything I said I’d never do.
“There is no dealing with either you or your mom, Walker. I love both of you, and I’m happy to help with anything you have going on, even if that means it’s inconvenient. I’m never too busy for either one of you. Next time you need something, you tell me.”
He nods, closing his eyes. I’m doing my best not to rage, but I want to. At the unfairness of everything happening. How hard do Mandy and I have to fight be together? How hard do we have to fight for our family?
I can hear Tyler’s voice. As hard and as long as it takes.
Maybe that’s the problem - I always want there to be an endgame. For me, there always needs to be a finish line, and with life there really is no clear one.
“Walker Barnett?”
Nudging him awake, I make sure he’s okay to stand before the two of us go back into the triage area.
They ask a bunch of questions, some I know the answers to, some I don’t.
I should know all of them though, and I’m man enough to admit that to myself. We’re taken to a room where we’re told to wait for the doctor. Walker shakes as he sits up on the exam table by himself.
“Are you okay?”
“Just so cold.” His teeth are chattering.
“We’ll get some medicine in you as soon as possible.”
Helpless. I feel completely and totally helpless. Is this how Mandy felt as she was miscarrying our child? She’s always told me there are certain things I can’t understand - and maybe this is one of them.
I’m about to go ask where the doctor is when there’s a light knock on the door, and a man in a white coat enters.
“I’m Dr. Pendergrass.” He looks over the mask he’s wearing at me. “You are?”
“Walker’s Dad, Dalton.”
I don’t miss the once-over he gives me; probably wondering why I’ve never brought my kid to the doctor before.
“Nice to meet you.” He turns to Walker. “What’s going on today?”
This should be the time when I speak up, but I don’t need to, because Walker speaks for himself, telling the doctor exactly how he feels.
“Okay, let’s get you checked out.”
I watch as he performs an examination on him, wincing as I hear my son cough horribly.
“I believe he’s got strep throat and a possible upper respiratory infection. We’ll need to do a strep test and we’ll go ahead and treat for the respiratory infection. He’ll need to be at home from school for the rest of the week. Strep is highly contagious, especially while running a fever.”
I’m not at all prepared for this, but neither was Mandy when things out of her control began happening.
“You can lay back there and go to sleep if you want, Walker. I’ll send someone in with a test.”
Walker gives him a thumbs up before he lies back, resting his head against the pillow. “Want me to turn the light out?”
Another thumbs up, and then he’s quiet as can be. It leaves me with my own thoughts. I know Mandy isn’t allowed her cell phone right now, but I still pull mine out and start a new text.
D: Walker’s sick. I got him to the doctor and they think he has strep throat and an upper respiratory infection. You would know exactly what to do. I miss you. I love you.
The text goes through, and I can’t help but hope she sees it sooner rather than later. I hate not having contact with her, but I know it’s for the best right now. Being here by myself isn’t fun, and I wonder how many times she’s sat somewhere by herself wishing I was right there with her. More often than I can count, I’m sure. Self-loathing hits me hard, and I realize with great clarity that I’ve spent the better part of our lives together picking shit that didn’t make a damn bit of difference over my family, even though
