by Grea Warner
Joel had been running to show one of the older boys at camp something when he slipped and fell into the pool. He hadn’t hit his head but was disoriented in the deeper water. Having his regular clothes and shoes on hindered his ability to swim, causing an even more panicked situation in the pool. At first it looked like play, but luckily a lifeguard took note when the flailing turned to more of a floating. They were ready to start CPR, but Joel coughed up the water himself. Luckily—thankfully—that was it. He was going to be discharged from the hospital with a clean bill of health. But we did have to wait a little while in case of any side effects of the water and his lungs. I didn’t mind. He was okay. That was all that mattered. And I knew the importance of secondary reactions. It was a similar protocol for me in the emergency room after an allergic reaction.
While we waited, the kids listened to Ryan’s tales of the farm and thanked him for the little gifts he picked up for them at the airport in Iowa. They then played some games on my phone. Ryan was on his own cell, but I am sure it wasn’t games he was playing. That was when I noticed what Sallie actually verbalized.
“Daddy, that girl keeps pointing at you.”
Ryan looked up from his phone and glanced across the no more than three feet of walkway separating us from the patient across from Joel’s dedicated space. Ryan briefly and softly smiled at the petite, dark-haired child who looked to be around Joel or possibly Sallie’s age. If she had been pointing at me, I would have automatically wondered if my pants were split or I had something in my hair or teeth. But it was Ryan, and that could only mean one thing.
“I’m so sorry,” the woman, who I could only assume was her mother by their similar features and her age, apologized and gave the little girl a narrowing of her eyes. Yep, she had to be a mom. “She recognized you from TV. She watches Singer Spotlight all the time.”
That was the problem, in general, with being a male public figure. Unless you wear an actual disguise or a deep riding cap and eyewear, you look like yourself. Women? They just need to not put makeup on and no one would ever be suspect. Like it or not, it was the truth.
“It’s all right.” A now calmer and relaxed Ryan stood to walk a little closer to the woman and her child. “You’re a music fan?”
The little girl’s eyelids expanded instantly at Ryan speaking to her. “Yeah.”
“What kind is your favorite?” he asked as I joined them.
“Pop,” she answered.
“You must like Jorja then, huh?” Ryan mentioned his fellow judge.
“Yeah.” The little girl’s eyes, if possible, were even larger.
“I’ll let her know,” he offered.
“Cool! Mom, did you hear that?” She looked at the woman to confirm my suspicions of relation.
“Yes, Darlee,” she answered. “That is pretty cool.”
“That’s a beautiful name,” I jumped into the conversation. “I hope you’re feeling better soon. It’s hard being in the hospital, isn’t it?”
“I have seizures.” She said it with a bit of melancholy but just as matter-of-factly.
I looked at the woman. Her expression was much more solemn than melancholy. It was a solid mixture of fear and pain.
“This one was longer than the others,” she started only to be interrupted.
“Do you have them, too?” Darlee was looking directly at me.
“Me? Uh, no. Why?”
“You have a necklace like me.”
Darlee’s comment made me reach for my chest. My medical alert necklace had found its way to the outside of my shirt. While I didn’t necessarily hide it, I did usually keep it beneath any garment. There were times when I wondered why I even wore it. After all, any attack I’d ever had, I had been alert enough to speak and inform medical personnel of my allergy. But I had promised my parents I would wear it, and, just like Ryan, I kept my promises.
“Yeah,” I admitted to the little girl. “We’re twinsies but for different reasons.”
I was going to explain further, but one of the doctors approached. “Mr. Thompson, we should be about ready to discharge your son.”
“Oh, uh, great. Great.” Ryan shook the doctor’s hand as he had with every doctor who had joined us that evening. His manners were surely a complete contrast to how Irene must have acted with the dedicated staff.
“Let me go over some things with you ... and Joel.” He started toward Joel.
“Why do you wear your necklace?”
“Darlee, they need to talk with their little boy’s doctor now. You need to say—”
I interrupted the mom but spoke to Ryan. “Go ahead. I’ll be there in a sec.”
“Okay.” Ryan agreed and did a positive thumbs-up to Darlee.
I didn’t end up joining Ryan, the doctor, Joel, and Sallie right away. I thought I was just going to explain to Darlee about my nut allergy, but I ended up talking with the little girl and her single mom about so much more. And it made me appreciate all I had in that little room only feet away. Not only did I have someone by my side to help me through the rough times, but Joel was going to be fine. We were lucky. We needed to count our blessings no matter how frightening and sad things seemed around us.
***
Ryan kept checking the rearview mirror to the backseat as we finally started on our way home later that night. I didn’t blame him. I was looking, too. Getting so incredibly close to losing the precious little boy made you want to stare at him all the time. And now in the quieter setting of the car, I think the reality of what happened was truly sinking in for all of us. Well, at least Ryan and me.
“Daddy, I’m hungry,” Joel called out.
“Huh?” Ryan looked backward again. “Uh, yeah. I guess you guys haven’t had anything to eat. How about we do a drive-thru?”
“Ice cream,” was his response.
To which his sister echoed, “Yeah, ice cream.”
“Well, okay, ice cream.” Ryan chuckled. “But we still need some protein. What do we eat for that?”
“Turkey? Pork?” Sallie suggested.
Ryan looked at me sitting in the Audi’s passenger seat and smiled. He knew I taught the kids so much about food and health. “Yeah, those are good. But what protein do we usually get at a drive-thru? What’s the only thing Joel will eat?"
“Tenders! Barbecue,” the boy himself called out.
Ryan was pulling up to put in the order. “Sallie? What do you want?”
“I want a burger, please.”
“Okay.” Ryan announced the kids’ choices and turned to me. “You’re good here, right?”
“Yes.” I would have scoffed more at his overprotectiveness of my allergy issue, but I knew he had too much on his mind, and the love and concern behind his question should have been cherished not berated. “Get me a chicken salad. I might eat it later.” I wasn’t hungry, but who knew. When he repeated my order and started toward the payment window, I asked, “You’re not getting anything?”
“I’ll finish Sallie’s. She won’t eat everything,” he replied, but I had a feeling his stressed-out appetite was about as vacant as mine.
***
Between the ice cream and having to sit so long at the hospital, Joel was not at all ready for bed when we got home, despite it being almost that time. He was zooming around the hallway like a hypersonic jet. And it did not impress Ryan ... at all.
“Joel, stop running!” It was already the second request, and with his mom’s surgery, the flight, and the harrowing experience with his son, Ryan did not have the patience for a third. “Joel! What did I say?”
“I’m Flash!” He zipped once more.
“You are not a superhero! Damn it, I said stop!”
His voice really escalated, and he actually grasped on to Joel as he attempted to race past. Joel kind of glanced at his dad like it was more of a bother being caught than anything else. Sallie, though, froze and looked at me with her eyes wide. I knew why. Ryan very, very rarely got upset with the kids, and, if so, he certainly didn
’t swear and hardly raised his voice. They knew if they did wrong without any of those harsher devices—sort of like the Lyric and eating toys incident.
I tried to be the calm one. “Ryan ...”
He seemed to ignore me, though ... his eyes still fixated on Joel. “No. You understand? You are not invincible. There are reasons why there are rules. You ... Dang it, Joel. Go. Go to bed. No electronics.”
“Daddy ...” he whined.
“Now.”
On his father’s command, the youngest Thompson burrowed his eyebrows and declared, “You are the meanest daddy ever!” before stomping up the stairs. At least he didn’t run.
Joel’s stunning reaction made the remaining three of us pause. With the way Ryan’s gut seemed to retract, he looked like he had been physically attacked instead of emotionally. Sallie’s eyes swung from her brother to her dad. And I had no idea what to say to help any of them.
It wasn’t me, though, who made the first attempt at making the situation better—it was Sallie. She took the few steps to Ryan and gave him a hug. “I missed you, Daddy.”
Even with him noticeably mad, Sallie needed her father near. She wanted him to know that. She needed him. We all did ... even stubborn, active little boys who voiced otherwise.
Ryan held his lips on top of his daughter’s head for an extended moment and then managed a smile. “I missed all of you, too. Do you think you can maybe—”
“I’ll go to sleep,” she answered before he even got a chance to ask the actual question.
“Thanks, sweetie.”
After Sallie’s more amicable, peaceful retreat up the stairs, Ryan covered his face with both of his large hands and then ever so slowly dragged them down so only his eyes were showing ... and looking at me. His head-nod said it all. The last couple of hours were just too much.
Before I once again tried to find something reassuring to say or do, we both heard Lyric crying. The sound obviously coming from near the patio doors, I realized he hadn’t been left out. He was completely off his schedule like the rest of us. And, goodness knew, we didn’t need another poo accident.
When Ryan’s eyes shut and he slowly shook his head, I offered to at least take care of Lyric. “I’ll get him.”
“Thanks.”
The poor neglected pup did his business outdoors rather quickly, and I petted him for being the one with the most patience in the household. His reward was to be allowed a little more outdoor time to roam and play. But, in reality, it was a reward for me, too. Sitting on the bench, I did some relaxing Yoga breaths, took in the crispness of the late-June air, and watched as the stars seemed to appear as if by magic.
Ryan came out after another minute or two, carrying my salad, a bottle of wine, and two glasses. “Thought you might need some nourishment.”
The food and beverage choices were similar to our first date in that same locale, but our moods certainly were not. When he sat next to me, I grabbed for the bottle. “I’ll definitely have some of this.”
“I’ll pour it for you,” he offered like the gentleman he always was.
But I simply took it, wiggled out the cork he had already loosened, and tipped the bottle to my lips. After a good gulp accompanied by an appreciative “hmmm” by Ryan, I pointed the bottle in his direction. Taking my lead, he set the salad and two empty glasses on the ground and then took a mighty swig of the sweet red liquid himself.
“Did you talk with him?” There was no additional reference needed to my question.
“No. I was going with your give-him-a-minute-to-himself strategy.” He referenced my suggestion with Sallie a few days before and then took another sip of wine.
“Ah,” I acknowledged. “Yeah, good choice. I think you both need a minute ... or two.”
“He doesn’t get it. He has no regards for what happened ... how it happened ... how he was running ... how he almost ...” He verbally stumbled and couldn’t come to say his son almost died. “He doesn’t get it.”
“No. He’s five. He doesn’t.”
After putting the bottle down, Ryan marched on with his thoughts about what exactly did happen that afternoon and how seconds made such a difference. “How long can you go without air ... minutes, right? I mean, thank God he was in the water less than three and then only seconds without ... But, oh geez, had someone not seen him or had they thought ... Geez. Oh, man. I couldn’t. I couldn’t live if something happened to him. And what did I just do? I yelled at him. I yelled! I am the meanest dad ever.”
“Ryan, he didn’t really mea—”
“And on top of that, you know what I was thinking the whole time in the taxi ride over? I kept thinking, the last time I saw him in person I was mad about the dog. And if that was the last time ...” And then he started to cry. It was something I rarely witnessed from that strong, positive man, and because of that, he immediately tried to hide it. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“What? Why? Don’t be sorry.” I reached out to touch his hand covering his face.
“You don’t need me to be like this.” He managed to look at me, while stopping his even more ablaze than usual deep blue eyes from tearing.
“What? As a man who loves his children ... who would do anything for them?”
“I can hold it together. In fact, all good.” He pushed out his hands to either side to signify completion.
“Ryan!” I nearly bellowed. “You do not need to hold it together all the time—not for me and not for the kids. Yes, you are their hero and they know they can count on you, but they need to see it’s okay not to have it all together sometimes.” My little monologue had him looking at me as if he was hearing something brand new. “They need to know they have responsibilities to their rooms and animals and rules. They need to see things scare you, and it is all right to be scared ... and mad ... and sad.” I knew Ryan’s uncharacteristic temper with Joel had been his fear on display, and his tears with me were when he just couldn’t suppress anymore. “I’m afraid they’re doing the same ... holding feelings in. The princess thing ... when Sallie cried? I realized yesterday that it was the first time since Kari passed away that she cried. I know the psychologist said there might be grief bursts.” Come to think of it, wasn’t that what Ryan basically just did, too?
“Yeah.”
“But then she felt bad. She felt bad that she let herself break. That’s why she came back and apologized. She didn’t want you disappointed with her. She is always trying to make you proud and happy.”
“Disappointed?” He was even more taken aback. “Why would I be? I’m so proud of her. She never does anything wrong.”
I blew out a gust of air. That was something else I had realized when I thought of Sallie. “Here’s the thing—I was Sallie. I still am a little bit. My mom put on this happy face when I was growing up and wanted everything to be normal for me, despite not going to school with the other kids and despite not being able to eat things everyone else could. I thought I was wrong for feeling upset or sad about it because she and my dad weren’t.”
“But they were,” he connected the verbal dots.
“Yeah. I started to figure it out, but then didn’t want to make her sad knowing I was sad. Ry, some of the things Sallie is saying makes me think she feels exactly that same way. She’s confused on how to feel.” I was relaying Sallie’s nighttime talk with me, even if it wasn’t word for word.
“Oh, man.” He covered his eyes again. “How could I have messed this up so bad. I can’t fail at this ... with them. I can’t—"
“No, no, no.” I touched his thigh and tried to redirect as he looked at me again. “I’m sorry. I’m probably just projecting my own issues. And I’ve only had this bottle of wine to eat or drink. All I’m saying is, you all need to not hold things in. They lost their mother. And I know you have to have feelings about Kari’s death. She was the mother of your children. You loved her at one point.”
“Bethany, I—”
“It’s okay.” I actually didn’t want
him to deny it. “You wouldn’t be the guy I love if you hadn’t.” He brought his lips together tightly and looked at me with the slightest of accepting nods ... and I continued, “And what happened today with Joel? Gosh, Ryan, I ... I understand how upset you were.” My own eyes let a tear cascade down my face in remembrance. “I was so scared when I found out ... and at the hospital. I’m sorry I let you down.” And right there was the little girl Sallie still in me.
“What? How? How could you have let me down?” It was his turn to touch me—hand-to-hand.
“Joel. You trusted your two young kids with me and look what happened ... under my care. Just like Joel with Lyric.” I hadn’t even realized I had been thinking that, but out it came, and I knew it was true. I guess I was holding in a little bit, too.
“They were at camp,” he said instantly. “And you did everything you were able to do ... everything,” he reiterated and then sighed. “Kids? They get sick. They get hurt. Every photo of me at that age? I have some kind of bandage or scratch or am completely mud-covered. Just like you see yourself in Sallie?” He did a one-nod, as if to make sure I was listening. “I was Joel—the younger brother trying to do everything everyone else did and shouldn’t have been—sometimes my choice and sometimes their dare, by the way.” By the ease of how he said his final words, I realized he was not only rationalizing with me, but he was getting calmer and accepting everything himself. “Hey, thank you for being here for me ... for us. It’s ... it’s all good. We’re good.”
While those last words seemed like he was still in denial of any bordered-up feelings, I did appreciate his acknowledgment of me. And knowing we very much needed a light moment, I replied with, “Thank you for the wine.”
How long had it been since we had been able to be our easygoing selves, full of sassy, quick, sarcastic one-liners? It felt like forever. And that seemed wrong.
Ryan straight out laughed, which was also nice to hear. “I missed you something fierce, Lenay. I didn’t like you being so far away.”
