Best Laid Plans

by Farlow, LK

  “I will, Daddy!” She kisses my cheek and darts off toward the group of kids playing.

  I keep my eyes laser-focused on Tatum as she plays. She and two of the other kids are playing on a little jungle gym. It’s decked out with two slides, a mini suspension bridge, and a pint-sized plastic rock wall. The sound of her laughter floats my way on the breeze. She looks so happy and carefree that I can’t help but want to capture the moment forever.

  I shift slightly and grab my phone. When I unlock the screen, a text from Natalie pops up. It’s nothing more than a blowing kisses emoji. I smile and toggle over to my camera.

  Except before I even have a chance to snap a pic, a scream rings out, coming from Tatum. I shove my phone back into my pocket and haul ass to my girl. A few other parents rush over as well. When I reach her, she’s on the ground, wailing and clutching her arm to her chest.

  I drop down to my knees. “Tatum! Tatum, baby, are you okay?”

  She’s crying too hard to reply, and the sound of her sobs is soul shattering. I only looked away for one minute. Oh, Jesus. This is all my fault. Natalie is going to murder me—and rightfully so.

  Tatum tries to reach for me, but the motion sends her into another fit. She’s crying so hard she can hardly breathe. As carefully as possible, I gather her into my arms. She clutches my shirt with her uninjured hand, her tears wetting clear through my shirt. “Daddy, it h-h-hurts!”

  Guilt churns in my stomach like the sea during a raging storm. “I know, pretty girl. I’m so sorry. Daddy’s gonna make it all better.”

  The mom of one of the kids she was playing with stops me. “She was about to slide and tripped. Fell from the top.” I thank her for the info—info I should have known without being told, because I should have been watching.

  My heart sinks. How could I have let this happen? All of this because I wanted to take her picture. How stupid could I possibly be? And then I remember we walked here.

  “It’s okay pretty girl, Daddy has you.”

  With painstakingly careful steps, as not to jostle her, I set off for the car. What was a quick, two-minute walk here feels like an unending journey back—like in a horror movie when the hallway keeps getting longer, extending on endlessly.

  When we finally reach my car, I’m faced with an entirely new debacle. Her car seat. As softly as possible, I place her in the seat. She doesn’t want to let go, though. “I have to put you down, pretty girl. We need to go to the doctor, and you need to be safe.” I keep my tone soft, whispering the words into her ear.

  She releases her hold on my shirt and allows me to set her down. I slide her good arm through the harness, opting to leave her rapidly swelling arm that is very obviously broken out. I secure her buckle as best I can and fly around to the driver’s seat.

  “I want Mama!” Tatum wails, and my heart splits clear in two. Of course, she wants her mom—and truthfully, I do too. Natalie would probably be cool as a cucumber, whereas I’m on the verge of Hulking out or breaking down. Hell, I doubt this would have even happened on her watch. Which reinforces the fact that she’s so going to kill me.

  I turn on my flashers and pull out into traffic—luckily, it’s Sunday and still church hours, so there’s next to no traffic. As soon as my phone connects to my car’s Bluetooth, I dial Natalie.

  She doesn’t answer.

  I call again.

  No answer.

  Fuck. Nat, answer!

  Tatum’s cries have turned to heaving sobs.

  I try Natalie one last time, and when she doesn’t pick up, I have no option but to leave a message and to try her parents. “Nat, you need to call me. I’m on the way to the emergency room with Tatum. I’m pretty sure she broke her arm. Please call me. Better yet, meet me there.”

  Here’s to hoping she gets that.

  Immediately, I dial Luke, remembering that Melanie was helping at church.

  He answers on the second ring. “Yeah?”

  “Luke, Tatum is hurt. We’re on our way to the E.R. I can’t get ahold of Natalie.”

  “I’m on my way,” he says, ending the call. Thank God!

  All of this is strangely reminiscent of when Natalie broke her arm—mainly because that, too, happened on my watch.

  I make it to the hospital in what has to be record time, and I manage to score a parking spot near the entrance. I use the same great care to unbuckle and lift her into my arms.

  She turns her face into my chest. She’s still crying and begging for her mama, and I’m still an emotional disaster of epic proportions. “Just hang tight, Tatum. We’re almost there. The doctors here will be able to help you. And Popsie is on his way.”

  “B-but I want Mama!” She conveniently screams the words at the top of her little lungs just as we pass through the automatic doors. Several heads swivel our way—some with concerned looks, some offering empathy, and others looking perturbed by the noise. Let me just say, that last group can fuck right off.

  I march directly to the sign in desk, clutching my crying girl to my chest. “She needs a doctor. My daughter needs a doctor!”

  The nurse looks up. “Sign in.”

  “My hands are a little full,” I grit out. I mean, Jesus, would it kill her to help?

  She huffs and spins the clipboard to face her. “Patient’s name? Date of birth? Reason for visit? Your name?”

  I rattle off her info, and the nurse tells us to have a seat in the waiting area. My blood boils. Doesn’t she see my girl is hurt? “We need a doctor!” I implore, but it falls on deaf ears.

  “Yeah, and so does everyone else here.”

  My shoulders sag in defeat, and I walk over to a small cluster of chairs. In between trying to calm my still sobbing daughter, I’m shooting death stares to nurse and checking the clock on the wall, wondering when Luke is going to get here and when Natalie is going to call. Basically, I’m damn near crawling out of my skin.

  After what feels like two lifetimes, the nurse calls my name, her voice monotone. I’m hopeful she’s calling us back, but my hope deflates like a sad balloon when she passes me a clipboard and a pen. “If you could fill this out.”

  I’m sure this lady has seen it all and then some, and that this job is trying on the best day. But right now, I don’t have it in me to care. I clench my jaw to keep from telling her exactly where she can shove her paperwork and softly shift Tatum so I can take it from her.

  The movement causes Tatum to let out a high-pitched, ear-piercing squeal, once again earning us a mixed bag of looks. “Shh, it’s okay, pretty girl. Daddy just had to get this paperwork that is apparently more important than actually helping you.” My attempt at comfort ends in a feral growl.

  Back in our seats, I try my best to fill out the forms, which is no easy feat with a whimpering toddler in your lap.

  The forms themselves present an entirely new problem. Insurance…no clue. Social security number…nope, don’t know that either. Family medical history…well, I know the paternal side. Allergies to any medications…that’s going to be another nope, with a capital ‘N.’

  My panic spirals as I realize how little I know about my own child. My head swims, and my vision blurs. I think I’m shaking, but it could be Tatum, too. It’s probably both of us. Why didn’t I ever think to ask Natalie any of this? A good dad would know these things. Hell, a good dad would have never let this happen. Will Natalie ever trust me with her again? Should she?

  I’m about twenty seconds away from passing out when the swoosh of the doors followed by Luke’s bellowing voice. “Alden!”

  I lift my hand, alerting him to where we are, and he rushes over to us, swooping in and saving the day—or at least a piece of my fragile sanity. “What happened?” he asks, gruff and all business.

  “She fell at the park.”

  “Popsie,” Tatum cries and I pass her to him.

  “I swear, I was watching her. I didn’t mean—”

  “Son. Take a breath. It could have happened to anyone.”

  “No,
this is my fault. If I—”

  “Alden. Listen to me. You’re a good man—a good dad. You didn’t hurt Tatum. It was an accident and could have happened to anyone.”

  My shoulders slump. “But it didn’t. It happened to me.”

  “Did Natalie ever tell you about the time Tatum fell in the bathtub?”

  I shake my head, wondering where he’s going with this.

  “Tatum wanted out, and apparently Natalie wasn’t moving fast enough, so she tried climbing out on her own. Nat only turned around to grab the towel from the sink, but in that blink of an eye, Tatum slipped, fell, hit her head on the faucet and went completely under the water. Natalie called us, crying her eyes out, saying she was an unfit mother, which we both know is untrue. My point is, accidents happen. It sucks, but that’s life. At the end of the day, Tatum’s okay. She’s happy, healthy, and loved. Cut yourself some slack, son.”

  His words make me feel marginally better. “That may be true. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t even fully fill out these forms—there’s still so much I don’t know.”

  Luke chuckles. “Son, I’m gonna let you in on a little secret. I couldn’t fill them out either—to this day, Melanie even fills out mine. Quit worrying.”

  Easier said than done.

  “Did you get ahold of Natalie?”

  “She didn’t pick up for me. Mel didn’t answer either, but I called the church and got ahold of her that way. She’s on her way to Natalie’s place. They’ll be here soon, I reckon.”

  We slip into a comfortable silence. It’s strange how just his mere presence is comforting to me. After what feels like another eternity, Tatum’s name is called. Luke and I both stand and walk to the desk. The nurse motions for us to step behind it into this little triage area.

  “All right, we’re gonna get a few vitals really quick.”

  “And then we’ll see the doctor?” I ask.

  “And then you’ll head back to the waiting room.”

  I inhale deeply, trying to remain calm—mostly because I don’t want to scare Tatum. The nurse verifies our identities and slaps matching bracelets onto Tatum and me before checking her temperature. She attempts to clip some little device to the index finger of Tatum’s uninjured hand, but my girl’s not having it. She thrashes and screams so hard it takes both Luke and me to calm her down.

  The nurse moves to try again, but I’m pretty sure my snarl stops her in her tracks. “Let’s…let’s try her big toe.”

  I remove one of Tatum’s shoes, and the nurse is able to successfully get the readings she needs.

  Once she logs all of Tatum’s stats, she turns to us and asks what happened.

  “We were at the park, and she was going to slide but tripped and fell from the top.”

  The nurse looks from me to Tatum and then asks her, “Is that what happened?” I’m sure it’s something she has to ask, but it pisses me right off—as if she doesn’t believe me.

  Tatum sniffles and mumbles, “Yes.”

  The nurse hesitates briefly and then enters the information into her computer. “Okay. Y’all can go have a seat.”

  I want to rant and rave and riot and demand for someone to see her immediately, but I know it won’t help. In truth, the only thing it will accomplish is the nurse calling hospital security on me—and then Nat would really kill me. As is, regardless of Luke’s reassurances, I’m fairly certain she’s going to have my balls.

  42

  Natalie

  I have my headphones in, and I’m deep into our study session when I hear a loud banging on my front door. I slide my headphones off just in time to hear the lock turning and the door opening. “What the…” I push back from my desk and slowly venture out into the hallway.

  “Natalie!” Mom yells. “Natalie!”

  I meet her at the end of the hall. “Jesus, what?”

  “Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

  The fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “It’s on silent. Why?”

  “Tatum fell. Alden took her to the E.R. No one has been able to get ahold of you!”

  My heart races and stops all at once. I race back to my room and throw on a hoodie and my slip-on Keds, not caring one bit that I’m still dressed in Alden’s clothes.

  Mom and I break every traffic law driving to the hospital. I’m a nervous wreck when we enter the emergency room, but my fears calm when I see my dad holding Tatum and Alden at the nurse’s station, demanding to know why they haven’t been seen yet.

  “We’ve been here for damn near an hour. My daughter is in agony. How much longer is it going to take for her to be seen?” He’s a mixture of distraught and rabid—a true papa bear if I’ve ever seen one. I know it’s far from the right moment, but seeing him so worked up over our daughter kind of gets me hot.

  I step closer to him and place my hand on the middle of his back. “I’m here.”

  He spins to face me, the nurse long forgotten. As if driven by pure instinct, he draws me into his arms and holds me close. “Oh, thank God. Where were you?”

  His tone isn’t accusing in the least—if anything he sounds concerned—but I still feel like crap for missing all of his many calls.

  “I was doing that study session, and my phone was on silent.”

  He nods, and I step up to the desk to let them know who I am. The nurse takes my information and clacks away on her keyboard. Moments later, the printer spits out an I.D. bracelet for me. She fastens it around my wrist and then Alden takes my hand, guiding me to where Dad and Tatum are. My dad glances up upon our arrival. “She’s pretty much cried herself to sleep.”

  I look down at my beautiful girl, sleeping fitfully on his lap. Her left arm is swollen to twice its size at the wrist, and her skin is a mix of angry purples and blues. Tears cloud my vision. “Oh, Tater Tot.” I lower down into the seat next to my dad, and he passes her to me. She stirs and whimpers, but doesn’t wake.

  Mom grabs the chair on the other side of Dad while Alden paces back and forth in front of us, yanking on the ends of his hair. “He’s taking this pretty hard,” Dad whispers to me.

  My nose scrunches. “It was an accident.”

  “He’s blaming himself. Also, he needs a little help on the intake form.”

  My heart sinks. Accidents can happen to anyone, and I know Alden would never let anything happen to our daughter intentionally. I call his name and pat the chair next to me. He shakes his head and keeps pacing. I try again, only to get the same results.

  My shoulders slump. If I’d have had my ringer on, I would have answered his first call and been able to reassure him—not to mention, I could have been here from the get-go.

  Dad passes Mom the clipboard. She knows most of the info and even has a copy of Tatum’s insurance in her wallet—thank God for nurse mamas.

  She glances over at Tatum a few times while jotting down answers on the form. “It’s definitely broken. Don’t need no X-ray to see that.”

  He paces a few more times before finally slumping down into the seat next to me. I place my hand over his on the shared armrest, hoping the motion will give him comfort. Right as I’m about to let him know I’m not upset, Tatum’s name gets called.

  Alden and I both stand and head back with the nurse. She leads us down a series of hallways before bringing us to your typical E.R. room—small and cold, with a bed, a single chair, a sink, and ceiling-mounted television that gets fuzzy reception.

  Alden helps me onto the bed, where I lie with Tatum curled up beside me. He claims the chair in the corner. The nurse asks all of the standard questions and lets us know that radiology will be by soon.

  The three of us wait in the cold room for about fifteen minutes before there’s a knock at the door. “Come in,” Alden calls.

  Two women and a man wheel in a large, portable X-ray machine. I slide out of the bed and don one of the lead aprons. They get to work positioning the machine and then they ask Alden to step out.

  I seriously thi
nk he’s going to combust, but he eventually relents, looking none too pleased.

  Tatum wakes up with a scream that quickly turns to heaving sobs when they begin positioning her to get the best image. I comfort her as best I can, but I kind of feel like breaking down and sobbing with her.

  I glance out into the hallway, where an incredibly angry Alden is standing with his hands fisted at his sides and his eyes brimming with tears. This man looks ready to go to war for his daughter, and it makes my heart flutter in my chest.

  Finally, they tell us they’ve gotten what they need and that the doctor will be in soon. Thank God. I haven’t been here nearly as long as Alden, and it’s already been too long.

  Alden reenters the room and rushes to us, helping me and Tatum back into a comfortable position, murmuring words of love and comfort all the while.

  Twenty minutes later, there’s another knock at the door. This time, it’s the doctor and a nurse. He introduces himself as Dr. Murphy. “The good news is it’s a clean break. The bad news is we’re going to need to cast her.”

  “How long will she need to wear it?” Alden asks, not missing a beat.

  “Six weeks to start, and then we’ll have her follow up with an ortho for another set of X-rays. They’ll determine then if she’ll need to wear it longer.”

  The nurse speaks up. “What color would she like?”

  Once again Alden beats me to the punch. “Pink.”

  The nurse smiles and heads off to retrieve her supplies. She returns and asks me to sit Tatum up in my lap. She positions Tatum’s arm into a sideways ‘L’ with her inner wrist facing her stomach. Tatum is not a fan of this and loudly lets everyone know.

  “Stop!” she screams, tears trailing her cheeks. “It hurts!”

  Alden jumps out of his chair and moves to stand behind us. He leans over and kisses her cheek. “It’s okay, pretty girl. Remember when we talked about being superheroes? This is just going to help you get even stronger. I know it hurts now, but it’s going to get better.”

  “P-promise?” she asks, sounding so small.