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He lowers himself down in front of me. “Annabelle, I’m sorry, but your parents are gone.”
“Where’s my brother?” I can’t bring myself to look at this man yet. This man who let me dance the last hour and a half without telling me my parents were gone. Who allowed my brother to stay alone?
Who’s with him? Is he scared?
I refuse to let my tears flow freely.
Not yet. No, I have things to do. I need to find Tommy.
Archer shakes his head. “They didn’t mention anyone else. The hospital was looking for you. That was all I was told. Tell me what you need, and we’ll get it for you.”
“I need to get to Philly.”
Ididn’t even go back to my apartment. Just changed into sweatpants, a long-sleeved Guns ‘N’ Roses t-shirt, and my Uggs and walked out the door. Ginny, the admin for the ballet company, meets me in the hall. She wraps her seventy-five-year-old arms around me and gives me her best squeeze. “Annabelle, I have a town car waiting out front for you. There are no direct flights to Philadelphia International from New York. So I’ve arranged to have you driven. I’ve also called the hospital and given them your contact information. Now, stay strong and let us know if there’s anything we can do for you, honey.”
Going through the motions, I limply hug Ginny back and tap her arms to get her to let go of me. “Thank you, Ginny. I’ll call when I can.”
Then I’m out the front door of Lincoln Center, not knowing if I’ll ever dance on this stage again.
Two hours later, I’m running through the front doors of the hospital in my hometown of Kroydon Hills, Pennsylvania. I spoke to a nurse during the ride from New York. My brother, Tommy, is in the pediatric ICU. He has a severe concussion, a broken arm, and cracked ribs.
Running across the old, yellowing linoleum floor, I get to the security desk and ask them where I need to go.
This hospital is like a maze. Go down the hall, make a left, take the elevator to the third floor, make another left. The steel double doors I’m greeted by are locked, and I have to press the intercom and ask to be buzzed in.
Once inside, I’m met by a kind nurse in Mickey Mouse scrubs who escorts me to Tommy’s room, and for the second time tonight, I fear my knees are going to give out on me. He looks so small in the bed, wrapped tightly in a white blanket that I have no doubt will be too itchy for him when he wakes up. He has a tube coming out of his nose and more tubes attached to his uncasted arm. His beautiful green eyes are closed, and his head is shaved and bandaged up on the right side of his body. “Is he... Is he going to be okay?” The tears burn behind my eyes, pushing to be let free. But I absolutely refuse to allow myself to lose control now.
The nurse, who barely looks older than me, steps closer. “He will be. It looks worse than it is. We had to sedate him to calm him down, but he should be waking up soon.”
I slowly move to the side of the hospital bed and tentatively run my fingers over what’s left of his hair. “He has autism. Did you know that?”
He’ll hate this. He’ll hate this room and having so many things touching him.
“We had an idea but couldn’t be sure. Ms. Hart, do you have anyone I can call for you? Any family we can have come to stay with you?”
I shake my head no, never looking away from Tommy. I didn’t realize I lost my battle with my tears until I see one hit his bruised cheek. “No. We don’t have any extended family. It’s just us.” Dad used to say it didn’t matter that we didn’t have a big family. As long as we had four Harts, we had more than everyone else.
All you need is heart and soul.
I look back to the nurse. “Was his dinosaur brought in with him?”
“Let me check for you. I’ll be right back.”
Dropping my big purse on the floor, I pull the vinyl lounge chair next to Tommy’s bed and sink down into the squeaky fabric. I’ve spent more time with my little brother on Skype chats than any other way during his short little life. Mom found out she was pregnant the year after I moved to New York for dance school. I thought about coming home, about skipping that year and trying out again the following year, but she wouldn’t let me do it. She told me we’d have holidays and summers and that New York was only a two-hour drive away. She was right, and we made the best of it and offset the rest with a ton of Skyping.
My little brother marches to the beat of his own drummer, and that drummer is a dinosaur.
When the nurse reenters the room with a plastic bag containing Tommy’s sneakers, clothes, and his stuffed Toy Story Rex, I breathe a sigh of relief.
I know this stuffed animal will help Tommy deal with the trauma of the day.
What I don’t know is how I’m going to deal with it.
