Page 48 of Strum Me

After almost a minute the orderly clears his throat and she finally pulls away.

“Oh, sorry.”

“No problem, ma’am, I’m just gonna get him set up in his room right over here. Then we’ll get you all comfy.”

She steps back and lets him push the bed with her precious cargo into the closest room. I wander over to her, wrapping my arm around her shoulder.

“You all right?” I say, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

“Yeah.”

“And Ben?”

“Apparently, once I get his ice cream he’s going to be just dandy.” She lets out a relieved chuckle. “Kids, huh?”

“I wouldn’t know, babe. But I’ll take your word for it.”

“Mommy!” Ben calls out to her from his bed. “Come look, I have my own TV! Can I watch a Transformers movie?”

She rolls her eyes and holds her hand out in surrender.

“Ben: one. Postman’s truck: zero. Come on, I guess it’s time you met Ben.”

I hang back, not sure if she really wants me to. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I might need a babysitter sometime. It helps if you’ve met him so you can say no.”

I can’t help but laugh and follow her into the room.

The room is bright and airy. It’s a single room and the walls are plastered with cartoon characters and happy, funny, positive sayings. Ben is propped up on pillows, his arm slung up to keep it out of harm’s way. He grins at us as we walk in, and I’d know he was Butter’s child a mile away. The same warm, open face. The same blue curious eyes. The same mop of dark hair that has a life of its own.

“Are you a firefighter?” are the first words he speaks to me.

“Um,” I falter, not sure whether to disappoint him now or later.

“This is Brad, Mommy’s friend from when she was little.”

“Little like me?”

“Hmm, maybe a bit bigger. When she was about thirteen years old.”

He giggles and doesn’t stop for quite some time.

“What’s so funny, huh?” Emily goes over and strokes his hair.

“You’re too old to ever have been thirteen years old, Mommy!”

She pretends to look offended, her mouth falling wide open. “Mommy is not old!”

“Is your firefighter friend old?”

“Yes, yes I am,” I tell him as I approach the bed, unable to resist this little mini Butter firecracker. “But I’m not a firefighter.”

“Oh.” His face falls.

“I’m better!” I tell him, nodding seriously.

“Better than a firefighter?” He looks incredulous…and unconvinced,