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His dark eyes don’t give anything away but he jerks out a nod. Then he looks down and lets go of his purchase.
I suck in a breath when he lands on the ground, by Art’s feet. It was smooth and effortless.
He kneels beside Art and my voice breaks as I ask, “Is he okay?”
Zach picks Art up in his arms. That’s effortless, too. And smooth and gentle as he cradles his head.
I couldn’t stop crying, even if I wanted to; I don’t want to.
I don’t want to stop crying because everything is swollen inside of me, raw and shaken up. And Zach’s entire hand covers Art’s head as he probably looks for an injury. He pats Art’s head slowly, almost like a caress and I have to dig my nails into the ground to keep steady.
Still staring at Art with a careful frown, Zach says, “He’s fine. He’s got a bump on the back of his head. But he’s gonna be okay.”
I press a fist on my mouth to stop all the sobs from coming out.
“Are y-you okay?” I ask, and the way Zach’s head jerks up makes me believe that it was the wrong thing to say.
Fuck it.
I’m not afraid of him. What am I right now is super emotional and almost unhinged. I don’t care if my concern is such a suffering to him.
Zach’s answer is a black frown and silence.
Soon, Tina’s back with the rope and she’s brought a couple other staff members, including Ryan, with her.
“Where’s Zach?” she asks as she stops beside me.
“Down there.”
Ryan kneels on my other side, concern evident on his face. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
In a terse tone, Zach instructs Ryan and the others to throw him the rope and explains what to do. Five minutes later, he’s out and Art’s in my arms.
“Oh, Art, I’m so so sorry.” I hug him, smelling his hair, kissing his forehead.
I feel the bump on the back of his head and realize that he needs a doctor. I’ve been so focused on him getting out, I haven’t even wondered how long he was in there.
“We need to go to the hospital,” I tell the group huddled beside me.
“Yeah, I’ll get the car ready, let’s go,” Ryan says, getting up on his feet.
“Someone needs to tell Doris,” one of the staff members says.
Cradling Art, I manage to stand, as well.
Doris. Yup. Someone needs to tell her how badly I fucked up when I was supposed to watch her grandkid.
And let’s not forget the car.
Tina goes to say something, probably about my one-year-old phobia of cars, but I shake my head once to tell her to shut up.
I can handle it.
Car’s the perfect solution. How else would we get there? Bus isn’t an option. It’ll take way longer to get there and Art needs the medical attention now.
Ryan cradles my cheek in that gentle way of his. “Hey, everything is going to be fine. It wasn’t your fault. These things happen. Art’s going to be fine.”
