by TJ Fox
I fidget with my camera for a bit. “Do any of you mind if I take some pictures?”
Riff looks over. “I think Dylan said something about photography once, but I didn’t pay attention. It’s a work thing, right?”
I nod. “Yeah, I’m a photographer. Mostly stock or product photography, but I do some other stuff as well.” His face tells me he is waiting for more. “People need images of all kinds of different things for all kinds of different reasons. Stock photography basically gives those people a catalog of images to pick from. Most of the stock images I take end up on websites, but I’ve got pictures on books, in magazines, and a couple of TV ads. I take pictures of whatever I think might be useful, do some editing on them, like cropping or tweaking things like color and lighting to get a certain look, then I upload them to a website where people can pay to use my images.”
He still looks a little confused, so I go on. “Say your soccer team wants to make a website for the team, and they want a good picture of a soccer ball, but not just some quick snapshot one of the parents took at practice. They would have to go and look for a picture to use, but they can’t just take any picture and use it. Most pictures are copyrighted. Because of that, you need permission first and almost always have to pay to use it.”
Simone has stopped eating to listen. “That’s kind of cool. Do you ever take pictures that people ask for?”
I nod. “That is the other part of what I do. I have clients who want their products photographed for catalogs, brochures or advertising. There are others that want something not available in the stock photos or photos that only they can use. I also do some school and portrait photography, but most of my business comes from stock images. That’s why I almost always have my camera with me. I can usually find something new to photograph.”
“Do you make very much money?” Riff’s question isn’t just to be nosey. There is worry buried under it. With the news about Dylan being sick and the guardianship issue, he must be wondering what that means for them. It isn’t something I’ve allowed myself to think about. It’s a legitimate question and deserves an honest answer.
“I do alright, I guess. I’m not rich, by any means, but I have a decent house and a good car that gets me where I’m going. There’s always enough for food and some fun, so…” I shrug. “I do okay.” I don’t know if that helps with his concerns or not, but he drops it for now.
I hold up my camera. “So this is okay?”
They both just nod and go back to their lunch.
I play with the settings and take a couple of test shots to make sure I’m getting the look I want. Knowing the kinds of things that will sell isn’t always easy, so I take a variety of shots, all of the same thing. Like the blood pressure dial on the wall above the bed. I’ll take a shot that has the dial, the spiral cord and a portion of the wall in one. In another, it will just be the dial, and another will be a closeup of just some of the numbers. One may have parts blurred because of how I’ve set my focus, and yet another will be a closeup of the coils. I could end up with fifteen or twenty photos of a simple object or set of objects and hundreds of photos of more complex or larger things like buildings or places in nature.
As I grab a few images of various objects in the room, I’m drawn to B and Jorie when they start giggling over something they’ve done with their colors. I start snapping pictures of them instead. I sneak in a shot or two of Riff tossing a chip in the air and trying to catch it in his mouth. Simone is so focused on whatever she is working on in her sketchpad, she doesn’t even notice the handful I take of her.
Lowering my camera, I look around the room. There aren’t any tears or angry ticking jaws or pain-creased faces. I watch these amazing kids, knowing what they’ve gone through, what they are going through, and I am awed by their strength and their resilience. Once again, I am overwhelmed with the enormity of it all. How do I help them through this when they all seem so much stronger than me?
I glance at Jules, and she just smiles and nods, telling me I’ve got this. I don’t know that she’s right, but I’ll take what I can get. Setting aside my camera, I eat my lunch and listen to B and Jorie as they decide the best color for a part of their picture.
By the time everyone has finished eating, B is starting to look drained from all the activity. Jules tells Jorie it’s time to head home, and they get ready to leave. “Do you want me to run some dinner by later?”
I look to Riff and Simone to see if that works for them. “Think we can have pizza?” Riff suggests. We agree on dinner, and Jules says she will text me later when she is on her way back in. Jorie comes over and hugs me, then waves bye to everyone as they leave.
“Jorie is fun. Can she come see me again?” B’s droopy eyes give away how much his brief playtime wore him out.
“Sure thing, sweetie. She had fun with you too.” I go over to his bed. “Why don’t you lie back down, so you can take a nap. You need to get plenty of rest, so we can leave tomorrow. Do you need to go to the bathroom first?”
He nods, and I help him to sit on the edge of the bed, then help him as he slowly walks to the bathroom. After he finishes, and I help him get back in bed, I push the button to lower the head of the bed down.
B gives me a long, sleepy blink. “Do I get to go home tomorrow?”
That is an impossible question to answer. He is too tired to deal with the news about Dylan, so I keep it simple for now. “If the doctor says everything still looks good, and you do okay with Jell-O and dinner, then you get to leave tomorrow.”
He curls a bit around Dean. “Good. I don’t want to be here anymore, and I want to see Dylan.” He falls asleep before I can respond, so I’m saved for just a little while longer.
“This sucks.” Riff is conscious of B sleeping and keeps the comment quiet.
I walk back to my chair by the loveseat. “Yes. Yes it does.” The quiet peace from earlier has evaporated, and the weight of reality presses back in.
“When are we going to talk to him?” Simone stops sketching to look at me.
“I’m hoping we can wait until after he eats dinner, but he may not let us.” I bend to pick up my camera again.
Simone gets back to her drawing. Riff is just sitting there, slumped in his chair and looking at the floor, so I toss him my phone.
“Thanks.”
It occurs to me to wonder at the oddity of a teenager without a phone. “Do you not have a cell phone?”
He slowly looks up from my phone and over to me with a defeated look on his face. “I left mine in Dylan’s car along with the rest of my stuff. I didn’t want to drag it all in here.” He swallows and turns away from me.
“Oh. Well… shit. Was there anything besides your phone that you might need?” Not that I’d know what to do about it if he did.
“Not right away, but my soccer stuff is in there, and I’ll need it for summer camp.” Grief and confusion flit across his expression. “That really kinda isn’t important with all of this. Is it?”
I’m at a loss for words. I so badly want to say something, anything, that will take that look off his face. “Yeah. Let’s get through this before we start trying to figure the rest out. We will, though, you know? Figure it out.”
“Yeah. Sure.” He doesn’t seem reassured. Not even a little.
I wish there was something I could do to ease their worry and their pain. Being stuck in this room isn’t helping them. All the sitting and watching B, waiting for something to change, waiting for news that has little hope of being good. Maybe a change of scenery will help.
“Do you guys want to go walk around for a few minutes? Stretch your legs and get out of this room for a bit?”
“Yeah, that sounds good. Simone? You coming?” Riff stands up and twists side to side, pulling one arm across his chest before doing the same to the other one.
“I’m gonna stay here for now. Maybe when you get back?�
�� She looks up from her drawing to her brother.
“Cool. I’ll be back then.”
After he’s gone, I ask, “What are you working on? Or is it private? I won’t pry.”
She keeps drawing. “Just sketching random stuff. No big deal.” She does a little bit more before setting her pencil down and flipping through her sketchbook. Finally settling on a page, she turns it around and leans over to hand it to me.
It is an amazingly intricate drawing of B sitting on a couch holding Dean. No question at all what she was trying to draw because it’s beautifully done. There is shading and detail, it even has the shine in his eyes and the texture of the fur on the bear. It isn’t perfect, but it’s still well above what anyone her age should be able to do. She is truly gifted.
“Holy shit, Simone!” I look up at her. She is gnawing on her lower lip, and pink is blooming on her cheeks. “This is absolutely amazing. Can I look at any others?”
I don’t just flip through her book without asking because I hate when people look at my work before it is ready.
Head ducked down so her hair falls around her face hiding her blush, she takes her sketch pad back and flips through it again. After pausing on a page for a minute, she finally hands it back over, not looking at me while she does.
It’s Dylan. Sitting somewhere outside with one leg bent, and his wrist resting on his knee, hand draped down the front. He is looking off in the distance, like she caught him unaware. Just as impressive as the one of B, but what hits me and adds another crack to my heart is the look she managed to capture. It’s full of sadness and longing, so real, you can’t help but feel it right along with him.
“When did you do this?” She finally looks up at me again. Her face is pale.
“A couple of months ago. I think it might have been right before he met you. I think…” She sucks in a stuttering breath. “I didn’t see it then, but now… I wonder if he was thinking about dying and leaving us.” The tear that escapes is quickly wiped away.
“Yeah.” I look back at this heartrending moment that she managed to capture.
“Don’t ever let go of this. And please, don’t ever, EVER stop drawing. It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.” Closing the book, I hand it back to her. She swipes at another tear and takes it.
“You know you can talk to me, right? I know we don’t know each other, but… I’m good at listening.” I reach over and pat her foot.
“Thanks.”
Riff walks back in and heads over to sit next to Simone. She is wiping her eyes as he bumps her shoulder with his. “Hey, go take a walk. It will feel good to get out of the room for a minute.” She nods and hurries out of the room.
He sits back, watching B sleep. “She doin’ okay?”
“Seems to be so far.”
He slumps down, head on the back of the couch, eyes on the ceiling. I’m worried about how quiet he has been through all of this. I’ve seen him struggling to hold his emotions in check, and I’m concerned what will happen when he finally lets go.
He surprises me when he keeps talking. “Did you know? Before last night?”
I look up to see him watching me. “No.”
His eyes roam my face like he is looking for something. “What are you going to do? About us, I mean?”
“I honestly don’t know. I haven’t had much time to think about it since my priority has been making sure he,” I motion with my head to the bed, “got taken care of. It’s a lot to process, you know?” I wait.
“Yeah.” He sighs and finally looks away. I don’t know if he got the answer he was looking for.
We sit in silence until Simone comes back in. She settles back on the couch with her sketchbook and pencils. Riff sits back up and goes back to tapping away on the phone.
I pack my camera back up and grab my notepad. As I stare at the list of facts I know, I’m hit hard with the realization that B is most likely going to be released from the hospital tomorrow, and I have no clue what to do about that. If Dylan hasn’t turned up by then, which is looking more and more likely as time goes by, I have a huge decision to make. I have been trying hard to avoid it, but I don’t think I can anymore.
Do I do what Dylan wants and take on these kids? Or do I let the state take them, making it likely they will be separated? Is it really even a question at this point?
“Hey, Riff. Can I steal my phone for a minute?” He hands it over, and I send a text to Jules.
Me: Will you help me?
I’m not even surprised by the immediate response.
Jules: You have to ask? I’ve just been waiting for you to realize what I already knew. You forget who you’re talking to.
Jules: Whatever you need. Whenever you need it. Always.
Her response makes my chest squeeze tight, in a good way for a change.
Me: Love you too!
I wait to make sure she doesn’t send anything else, then I hand the phone back to Riff. There are still unanswered questions and uncertainties, but having a direction, at least for now, makes this more manageable, and I’m able to work out possible solutions for the different “what if” scenarios.
We all focus on our own activities, and a kind of peace falls over the room again. I’ll take what I can get because I know it won’t last forever.
Chapter 13
B sleeps until they bring him his Jell-O, and he gladly downs it. He is bubbly and chatty, talking about his time with Jorie and what he wants to do the next time they get together.
He and Riff play a game on my phone while Simone asks about the pictures I’ve been taking. We sit together, so I can show her some of them on the tiny camera display. We talk about art, the things she likes about it and that she sometimes plays around with colored pencils but isn’t confident using them yet.
Riff brings me my phone when he sees that Jules has texted me. She’s just checking in on the kind of pizza we want and how many. None of us are very hungry, so we just stick to a single pizza with pepperoni and mushrooms on one half for Simone and me and sausage on the other for Riff.
It’s nearing six in the evening, and B’s dinner should be here soon. It will be the first real food he’s had since his surgery. He’s saying that he’s hungry and wondering when he can eat, so I’m guessing that’s a good sign. Sadie has been in a couple of times since lunch to check on him.
Something I’d been weighing throughout the afternoon was what to do with the kids when we leave the hospital if Dylan hasn’t turned up yet. Setting the question about guardianship aside, they still need somewhere to go. That’s a given. Throw in the fact that B will still be recovering from surgery, and it gets even more complicated.
There are still too many unknowns, leaving me with few options, so I focus on the one option I have any control over. I have no idea if having them stay with me is the best choice, but it is something I can work with.
I mull over the rooms in my house, contemplating a few different ideas on how to set them up there, jotting down notes of what would need to be done or reminders to check on later. It isn’t something I can do while I’m here, but I’m hoping to talk to Jules when she gets here to see if Russ will be up to helping before we leave tomorrow.
The door opens to a woman carrying a tray. Riff helps B get situated. His dinner is some kind of rice dish, a side of carrots and some pudding for dessert. He is about halfway through it and asking if he can eat the pudding before he finishes the rest when Jules comes in with our pizza, paper plates, a roll of paper towels and several cans of soda.
B is disappointed that Jorie didn’t come this time. Jules explains that Jorie had to stay home to eat her own dinner with her dad and brother. After, they were going to have a movie night, but even then, she wanted to come anyway. He seems satisfied that she was willing to give up a movie night to come color with him.
We push the two other
rolling tables together to set up the pizza and use our laps to hold our plates. I’m sitting on the loveseat this time with Jules next to me. Simone is over by B with Riff in the chair under the window between her and me. They are all talking, and the older one’s are keeping B entertained while they eat.
I quietly talk to Jules about my thoughts on setting up my house for the kids. She volunteers Russ to help, and we come up with a plan. I want to be prepared even if it is temporary, or we end up doing something different.
“Am I doing the right thing? Is this what’s best for them? I’m terrified of making a mistake.” I’m practically whispering, still trying to keep the conversation quiet.
She leans her shoulder into mine. “Oh, honey, I don’t know that there is such a thing in this situation. They can’t have what’s best for them. That part is out of your hands. All you can do is help them get through this, so they can find some good again. As far as you doing this, being able to do this? I won’t sugar coat it. This won’t be easy, and things are going to get bumpy. A lot can go wrong, and that worries me. For both you and those kids, but that’s life with kids. That said, you’re exactly who I’d want for my kids.”
Pressing against her, I hope some of her confidence and strength soak into me because I’m not as sure as she seems to be. She doesn’t stay long. She’s still tired from being here so long last night and back again this morning.
We say our goodbyes then clean up the trash from dinner. The quiet is heavy. Even B has stopped chattering. I think we all know what’s coming.
I look to Simone and then Riff, wondering if they are any more ready for this than I am. B takes the question of how to start the conversation out of my hands.
“Will Dylan be there when I get home tomorrow?” He is looking at his brother and sister.
I sit on the edge of the bed and motion Simone and Riff to move their chairs over, so we can all sit around B.
