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I grin walkinginto Dusty’s room two weeks after the accident. It took a week before they decided to wean him off the medications keeping him in a coma, but since awakening, he’s been a model patient. It’s hard not to be, though, when one leg is in traction, your dominant hand is in a cast from your fingers to your shoulder, and your other side has all the wires and tubes to ensure you get what is needed.
Still, he’s been as good as can be expected.
“So, how’s it shaking?” I ask once I’m next to his bed. “You been giving anyone any problems today?”
He snickers, but shakes his head. “Naw, why should I? If I did, you and Dad would be upset with me because anything they ask me to do is only to make me better. At least that’s what I think, anyhow.”
“Wish more patients were like that,” I murmur, opening up my lunch bag to pull out two sandwiches. “Thought I’d come up and eat with you during my break, that okay?”
“Beats eating by myself until dinner. Thanks, Sunday!” he exclaims before he begins eating.
“You should get to come home at the end of the week.”
“Just in time for the big game, huh?”
“Yeah, you excited?”
His face grows serious as he turns to me. “I’m gonna miss Timmers, Sunday. He was a really neat guy, you know? Called me Dustman, and treated me like I was more than just the coach’s kid.”
I nod in understanding. Jett’s been having a hard time dealing with his emotions, especially since he feels he needs to be strong for his team, as well as Timmers’ parents, who are beyond distraught over the loss of their son.
“I didn’t really know him, Dusty, just from that time when almost the whole school ended up in the emergency room, but your dad has talked a lot about him. He was well-liked from the sound of things.”
“He was, but he wasn’t a jerk about it if that makes sense,” he replies, moving to his pudding cup. It amazes me that he’s doing so well eating with his opposite hand because I’d be making the biggest mess.
“It does because that’s how your dad was when we were in school,” I reminisce. “He was super popular, the school’s star quarterback, great student, but he was nice to everyone whether they were a friend or stranger.”
“That’s how I’m gonna be when I grow up,” Dusty vows, grinning at me. “Sunday? Can I say something?”
“You can say, or tell me anything, little man.”
“I wanna say thank you for helping to save me. Dad says it wasn’t easy for you to do it knowing it was me, but I’m good with a few broken ribs since it means I’m still here to hopefully get a baby brother or sister down the road,” he quietly says as he takes another bite, subtly giving me a hint.
“A baby brother or sister, huh? Does your father know your master plan?” I tease, blinking quickly so the tears that want to fall dissipate.
He snickers while shaking his head. Then he stops and looks up as though he’s in deep thought. “I think he might because I’ve heard him tell you he loves you, and you tell him the same thing. Don’t people in love get married and have kids?”
I shrug, holding back my grin. “Sometimes, they do. Right now, we’re both focusing on you getting better, okay?”
“Sunday? Can I tell you something else?”
“Anything, little man,” I reply.
“I can’t believe my mother was the one responsible for the accident.” This time, his voice is barely above a whisper as his head drops in shame. “So, it means Timmers dying is kinda my fault.”
“What the fuck?” Jett explodes, having apparently come into the room without either of us noticing. “No, nuh-uh, no fucking way you’re going to carry that load of horse shit, bud. No way. She might have given birth to you, but she’s not your mother by a longshot. In fact, since she’s facing prison time for purposefully causing the accident, I have my lawyer drawing up the paperwork to terminate her parental rights.”
“What does that mean, Dad?” Dusty asks.
I’m still sitting here, horrified that he knows it was his birth mom who caused the wreck in the first place. When we found out, Jett went ballistic, then reached out to her family who had tried to come and see Dusty where he told them in no uncertain terms that they werenotwelcome, and especially not Stacey, who had wailed out her anguish over ‘almost killing her baby boy’. Jett put them all in their place without allowing the drama to spill over onto Dusty.
“It means, little man, that according to the law, she would no longer be your mom.”
“Does that mean I can be adopted?”
The look on Jett’s face is priceless, and if the subject matter wasn’t so serious, I’d be laughing my ass off. “Well, I mean, I suppose you could be, say, if I got married. The woman would be able to make that decision herself to become your mom,” he slowly replies, slyly glancing in my direction.
“Cool. So someday, Sunday will be my mom, since she’s been more of one to me than my birth mother ever was,” he announces rather matter-of-factly.
