“How old is he?”
“He will be ten in July.”
“I want to speak with his family first.” I looked at the doctor toward Mina, who knocked on the door. His parents walked up to her and it only took a few moments before they stepped out of the room, looking at me.
“Governor, thank you so much for coming,” the father said. His eyes were so red it looked as if he had tried to claw them out. His handshake was weak and his smile fake.
“I’m so, so sorry about your loss.”
“Yeah…” His wife tried to say something, but nothing worked. “And thank you for coming. I’m sure you have a—”
“I have nothing more important.” I smiled, opening my arms and giving her a hug. God, I fucking hate hugging people.
No…please…no, don’t cry on me…damn it! I had to force myself not to cringe, slowly peeling away from her as she blew into a napkin.
“If neither of you mind, do you think I can talk to your son?” I questioned, glancing back at him.
“Huh? Our son? Why?” His father tensed up. “He’s not feeling—”
“My children were also involved in the other school shooting. My son also has had a hard time adjusting, but we finally managed to break through. I don’t know if I could just come by and say hello without at least reaching out to him.”
They glanced at each other and his mother crossed her arms over herself like she was trying to keep herself upright. “If—if you can do anything…okay.”
Her husband nodded and with tha
t, Mina held the door open for me. When they moved to follow, I stopped, “He might not want to talk if he feels you standing next to him. Is it possible to just watch us from a distance?”
Luckily they didn’t fight me on it, maybe because they were just too tired to. Taking the white rolling chair, I moved it over to his bedside. He didn’t bother looking over so I sat between his bed and the window.
His eyes were hazel, his brown hair messy; a few strands fell on his face and he didn’t brush them back. For a quick second, he focused on me, somewhat confused as to who I was, but didn’t say anything.
“I’m Melody, I was shot too.” I outstretched my hand to shake his but he didn’t move, so I took his hand and made him shake mine anyway. At that, he pulled back and shifted to face the other direction. Leaning back in my chair, I said, “I have a son your age. When he’s upset, he either blows up or gets real silent; it scares the shit out of me some days.”
The boy’s head snapped back, eyes wide.
“What?”
He didn’t answer.
“Shit,” I said again and he made a face. “Fuck. Damn it. Bloody hell. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!”
The corner of his mouth turned up just a little.
“What, you’ve never heard a curse word before? Say it. I won’t tell your parents.”
He opened his mouth but then stopped, making me realize he had stopped talking because he was sad but had continued to not talk because he felt like everyone was trying to make him talk. He was being stubborn…and kids were allowed to be stubborn sometimes, especially when they were upset.
“Come on, I know you wanna…” I leaned closer. “This could be the one and only chance you get to say it to an adult and not get in trouble.”
Again he opened his mouth. “Fuck.”
“High five.” He left me hanging, making a face as if to say ‘not cool.’
“Are you going to ask me to talk about it? Because I don’t wanna talk. Kevin and Lizzy are dead and they aren’t coming back!” he screamed at me, on the verge of tears.
“I know. Dead people can’t come back. I’m not in here to make you feel better because the truth is you aren’t going to. You are always going to feel bad. So cry, get angry, but don’t just sit here and look out the window doing nothing. It’s not fair to your brother and sister. I don’t know them, but you giving up doesn’t really seem like something a brother and sister would want for their brother. I can’t promise you anything other than that the person who did this…will hurt more than you.”
“Can you?” He frowned, finally turning all the way around. “Can you hurt him?”