Chapter 7 - Dad Wrote It Down So He Would Not Forget
I was four and I did not like the break room because it was too cold after the bathroom had been too hot. That morning Dad had to go to work and Mrs. Lacey from next door kept me, and then Dad came to get me for lunch because he said I was supposed to stay where he could see my arm. My name is Ellie and I remember the buzzing light over the table and my bear sitting against the vending machine so he would not get soda on him.
Dad's phone had a little red mark on the screen that said missed call. He stared at it while he opened my juice box. He said, sorry, baby, I gotta call them right back. His tie was still loosened from the morning and his sleeves were rolled up again. He pressed the phone to his ear and I swung my legs and tried not to kick the table leg.
When the lady answered Dad sat up straighter. I could only hear his side. He said, yes, this is Mark, Ellie's dad, returning the call about her arm. He listened a long time. He kept looking at my gauze. He said, uh huh. Uh huh. Then he pulled the gauze edge just a little, not off, just to look like Dr. Harris did, and I held still because I wanted to be good.
He said, it's still pink around the edge but not as angry red. She says it hurts less than yesterday. I nodded because that was true. It throbbed when my shirt rubbed it but it did not sting like bath water anymore. Dad said into the phone, we're keeping it clean and dry, changing it like you showed us. He asked, is that right, and then he said, okay, okay, I got it. He grabbed a napkin first because he could not find paper, and then he found his phone notes and started typing with his thumb.
The break room door opened and a man in a brown uniform came in for coffee. Dad put his hand over my hand. He did not want me to be loud while the nurse talked. The coffee smelled burned. The ice in the machine made a loud crash and I jumped. Dad squeezed my fingers and mouthed, it's okay.
Then the nurse asked something that made Dad stop typing. He breathed in through his nose. I knew that breath. He did it in the bathroom when Vanessa talked.
He said, for the chart? Yes. Vanessa ran the bath. I came home to her crying. He did not look at me when he said it. He looked at the wall clock. He said, I got home around six forty. The water was still warm when I touched it. We were at the clinic by eight something. He typed while he talked. His watch clicked against the table.
I did not understand what chart meant. I thought it was like the star chart at preschool. I whispered, did I get a star. Dad covered the phone for a second and whispered back, you did so good, baby, just one more minute. His eyes were tired but soft.
The lady on the phone talked again. Dad said, two days? Thursday? Yes, we can come Thursday. He repeated the time out loud so he would remember it and typed it twice. He said, thank you for calling back. He said, I wrote it all down so I won't mix it up. When he hung up he sat there a second with the phone in his lap.
The brown uniform man left with his coffee. The buzzing light kept buzzing. Dad pulled me onto his knee even though I was getting too big for that at the diner chairs. My bear fell over by the vending machine and Dad reached long with his foot and pulled him closer without getting up.
May you like
He showed me his phone screen. Look, he said. See? This is when we checked your arm. This is when we go back. So nobody gets confused. There were little blue words in a list. I could not read all of them but I recognized the number 6 and the number 8. I touched the screen with my clean hand and left a sticky juice fingerprint.
He wiped it off on his shirt and laughed a little, just air out of his nose. Then he kissed the top of my wet-looking hair, even though it was dry now, and said, let's get you back to Mrs. Lacey before my break's over. I carried my bear tight under my good arm so the gauze would not catch, and I remember thinking Dad's list would keep me safe.
