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“Can I take a listen?” Sawyer asked Isaac.
Isaac nodded and stepped back, leaving me to hold Newt while Sawyer listened to his lungs. I held my own breath for the handful of seconds it took for Sawyer to say, “Everything sounds clear.”
“Thanks,” Isaac said.
“From what I’ve read, you just need to monitor him for fever or more seizures, right?”
Isaac nodded. “He’s usually fine after a couple of hours of sleep. But I’ll take him to the doctor if he’s showing any abnormal signs.”
Sawyer nodded and patted Isaac on the upper arm. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything, okay?”
“Thanks,” Isaac murmured.
Sawyer left, and Isaac and I carefully got Newt settled in the tub. The little boy stirred awake as he was surrounded by the warm water. I kept my arm around him to keep him from slipping beneath it.
“How you doing, buddy?” Isaac asked as he got the thermometer.
“Sleepy,” Newt whispered.
“I know. You can sleep in a few minutes, okay? Just need to take your temperature.”
Newt nodded and accepted the thermometer. I couldn’t help but sigh in relief when the temperature read normal.
“Did I get the shakes?” Newt murmured as he tried to curl into my arm. Isaac was using his cupped palm to scoop some water onto Newt’s head to try and clear some of the lingering chunks of snow from it.
“Yeah, Newt, you did,” Isaac said.
“Do I gotta wear the hat?” he asked.
Isaac hesitated and said, “We’ll talk about it later, okay?”
“Don’t wanna,” Newt said as he began to cry. “People will laugh at me.”
Isaac quickly lifted Newt and pulled him out of the tub, not caring that the little boy was getting him wet. I snagged a towel and wrapped it around Newt’s body. Isaac tucked the ends between his and Newt’s body, then settled Newt on his lap as the little boy cried. He kissed the top of his head and said, “No one will laugh at you, Newt. Promise.”
My heart broke for the little boy as he shook his head and cried. I suspected what Newt might be talking about. A kid I’d gone to grade school with had suffered from severe epilepsy. He’d had to wear some kind of soft-padded helmet to protect his head if he fell. The kids had teased the boy mercilessly.
Newt was inconsolable as he sobbed, and I could see that every second that passed was breaking Isaac down further and further. Although he was being strong for his brother, I could see it was taking every ounce of strength he had not to lose it himself.
“Hey Newt, do you remember when you helped save Loki that night? When you told all the people how nice he really was?” I asked.
Newt nodded.
“Do you remember afterwards when your brother had to help me leave the room?”
“’Cause you were scared?” Newt asked.
I nodded. “That’s right.” I felt Isaac’s gaze on me, but I didn’t allow myself to look at him. “I got scared when the man was banging the gavel and all those people kept bumping into me.”
“You don’t gotta be scared of that,” Newt said.
“I know I don’t need to, but I am just the same.”
“Why?”
“Because it reminds me of some scary stuff that happened. But you want to know what’s scarier?”
“What?”
I began drying his hair but made sure not to cover his face with the towel while I was doing it so he could still see me.
“I’m afraid people will laugh at me when they find out I’m scared of those things.”
“It’s not funny,” Newt said softly.
I let my eyes hold his as I said, “No, it’s not. Just like it’s not funny that you have to wear a hat sometimes to keep you safe.”
He nodded but didn’t say anything.
“So I’ll make you a deal,” I said. “I promise that if anyone laughs at you because you’re wearing your special hat, I’ll let them know it isn’t funny if you promise to do the same for me if someone laughs because I’m scared of loud noises and being around too many people.”
He only thought about it for about two seconds before he said, “’Kay.”
“Okay,” I declared, then I spit into my hand and held it out to him. His tired eyes went wide. “What, you’ve never spit on it before?” I asked.
His eyes remained wide as he shook his head. He looked both horrified and fascinated at the same time.
“A spit handshake is like a promise you can’t ever break. Ever,” I declared. “You only spit on it when you really, really mean it.”
Newt glanced at Isaac who said, “You gotta really mean it, Newt.” He ran his hand over Newt’s damp hair.
The little boy seemed to think long and hard on it, then he spit into his hand and shook mine. I nearly laughed at the big gob of spit that met my palm.
