by Daisy Allen
I hold her hands against me with my left hand and reach around her back with my right, pulling her against me.
“Who’s Ben, Butter?”
Her voice is muffled as her lips graze against my chest, but I can still hear her. “My baby. Ben is my son.”
***
“Dennis!” I call out as soon as I see him near the entrance of the record store. I’m holding Butter’s hand as she follows me, face ashen with worry.
“Where have you guys been? We’re about to start the signing again,” he says, ushering me toward the table.
“I can’t, I mean, we can’t…Just come over here.” I point to a quiet corner with my head. “We’ve got to go to London. Now,” I tell him.
“What, why?” my manager asks.
“Emily’s had some bad news from home and she needs to go right away.”
“What bad news?” There’s an immediate sense of concern for her in his voice, and he looks at her, her hand still clasped in mine.
“Someone in her family’s been in an accident and they’re in the hospital and she has to be there. Now,” I say, knowing he’ll understand.
“Who?”
“Her son.”
He pauses for a moment. The way I’ve seen him do a thousand times before when he’s making the chaos make sense and how he can control it.
“Go.” The relief is instant. I’m going to owe him big time after this. “The car will be here for you in a few minutes. Go outside and wait. I’ll call you with further details on how to get to London. Just go.”
“Thank you.” I nod to him and he knows how much I mean it.
He grabs my bicep and directs me toward the exit behind the CD stacks. “Go out the back entrance.”
We start to move toward the door.
“Emily?” Dennis calls out to her, and we stop as he runs up to us.
“I hope everything works out,” he offers.
She smiles at him gratefully and lets him squeeze her arm.
“Come on, let’s go.”
***
“Do you want some water?” I hand the bottle to her but she just shakes her head. “Juice?”
She shakes her head again.
“Wine? Champagne? Valium?”
“No. No. Maybe?” She gives me a little smile and I breathe a little easier.
We’re in the elevator going down to the surgical ward at King’s College Hospital from the roof’s helipad. She didn’t say a word in the car on the way to the helicopter in Cambridge, and it was too noisy on the flight to talk anyway. But I want to keep her engaged, scared she’ll disappear into herself again.
“So, what did your mother say?”
“Not much, she’s a bit of a wreck, not the greatest in a crisis. I guess I get that from her.” We move in closer as the elevator opens to let some patients on.
“We’ll be there soon. Then you’ll know everything for yourself. You can talk directly with the doctors,” I whisper, slinging my arm over her slim shoulders.
“He’s…he’s probably so scared.” Her bottom lip quivers and I realize, for all the panic, she actually hasn’t cried yet. “He’s…he’s just so little. He should have had his mother there when he went into surgery.”
“You’ll be there when he gets up.” I try to comfort her, my arm rubbing up and down her back.
“But I should’ve been there before. This wouldn’t have happened!” Her voice rises.
“What did happen? Do you want to tell me?”
“He…he was staying with my mother. She’s been taking care of him while I’m away on this assignment. He loves the postman so I guess he was waiting for the postman to come in his truck. He rode out to meet him on his bike, but the postman didn’t see him, and he backed into him. Backed into my little boy!” She looks at me with horror in her eyes, picturing the scene. “And now…”
“And now, we’ll wait to see what happens and get him whatever he needs to get better. But we’re not going to worry, because that’s not going to get us anywhere. Okay?”
She doesn’t respond, just stands there wringing her hands, and I reach over and take them in mine.
“Okay?” I repeat.
“But he’s so little,” she whimpers.
“How little is he?”
“He’s turning six in a few months.”
“And we’re going to throw him the biggest fucking party a six-year-old’s ever seen,” I tell her.
Somehow that seems to calm her and her hands lie still in mine.
The elevator dings announcing our floor. I watch her as she takes a long, deep breath. As shaken as she is now, I know, I just know once it’s time, she’ll be the best mother a little wounded boy could ask for. She lets me take her hand and we head toward the nurse’s station.
“Oh my gosh. Emily! Brad!” Emily’s mother greets us, getting up from her chair in the waiting room as we walk past.
“Hi, Mrs. Butter,” I say as I let her hug me.
“What—” she starts, but Butter cuts her off.
“How is he, Mom?”
“The doctor just came out and he said they’ve just taken him out of surgery and into recovery. They’ll bring him back here when he’s up. He should be fine. They just had to put him under so they could set his arm. It, um, it broke in three places, and it would’ve been easier on the little one to put him under.” Somehow she gets through it without bursting into tears.
“And what else?” Butter asks, desperate for information.
“That’s it. Just his arm. A few scrapes and bruises, but nothing he can’t show off to his friends and be proud of. Nothing internal showed up in the x-rays, and he was wearing his helmet and there wasn’t any damage to it at all.”
“So, he’s going to be okay?” Butter asks, for the first time sounding hopeful.
“So they say,” her mom replies.
“Oh my God.” Emily sinks into the nearest chair, her head falling into her hands. Her mother follows and they hug. Hug like they haven’t seen each other in years. I step back and let them have their moment, let them comfort each other, let them be there for one another.
Chapter Eighteen
Brad
“Brad!”
Emily waves to me when I come back after about fifteen minutes wandering around the children’s ward. I can’t help but admire the work that goes on here, not to mention the children themselves. Everywhere I hear giggling voices, only to peek into the rooms to see tiny little babes with wires and tubes coming out of their bodies. Indestructible little angels. I make a note to come back here sometime with the band. We’ll have to brush up on our Disney covers, I guess.
“Hey, any news?” I ask as I stroll over to her.
“Yup, I’ve talked to the doctor, and they’re setting up a room for him. He should be out soon.”
“And about his injury?”
“They said he’s pretty lucky, the truck just kinda clipped the front wheel of his bike and he fell back over onto the road in an awkward position and broke his arm. He’s young so he should heal pretty quickly.”
“That’s great!” I say, genuinely relieved. It feels weird to be so happy about someone I’ve never met.
“Yeah.” She lets out a long exhale. “I have to tell you something. Before Ben comes out and it’s all about him.”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. Thank you for everything. You, Dennis, whatever powers-that-be you guys conjured to get me here so quickly, thank you. I don’t know how to pay you back…financially or otherwise, but I will.”
I wave her words away.
“Shushushushushush. You want to thank me for somehow being lucky enough to have the resources to get you here? Fine. You’re welcome. But no talk of ‘paying back.’ Financial or otherwise. This is the last time I’m going to remind you of this—we’re Brad and Butter, and this is just the shit that we do for each other.”
“Well, Brad, of Brad and Butter, thank you.” The smile she gives me makes everything I’ve ever
done in my life to get to this moment worthwhile.
“You’re welcome, you little brat. You’re welcome.”
“Mommy!” A little voice speaks up out of nowhere.
Emily’s head whips around, and we see an orderly pushing a bed down the hallway toward us.
“Baby!”
She runs over and then skids to a sudden stop, as if afraid to touch him.
“Oh baby, Mommy’s here! Are you okay? I’m so sorry I wasn’t here when you had your accident, but I’m here now!” She hovers over him but without touching him.
“Can I have my ice cream now?”
She turns to me, blinking, then faces her little boy again.
“What?”
“The doctor said I could have ice cream if I was good and didn’t cry when they put the needle in, and I didn’t so—where’s my ice cream?”
“I’ll…Mommy will go ask, but, are you okay? How are you feeling?” she asks him again.
“I’m feeling like…I need ice cream, Mommy!”
“Oh, okay, okay. Sheesh, what about a hug? Mommy’s been gone for three days now.”
“Sure, Mommy!”
She leans down, careful to avoid touching his wounded arm, and buries her face in the tiny crook of his neck. There’s a soft gurgling noise from them, and I smile at their happiness to see each other.
After almost a minute the orderly clears his throat and she finally pulls away.
“Oh, sorry.”
“No problem, ma’am, I’m just gonna get him set up in his room right over here. Then we’ll get you all comfy.”
She steps back and lets him push the bed with her precious cargo into the closest room. I wander over to her, wrapping my arm around her shoulder.
“You all right?” I say, giving her shoulder a squeeze.
“Yeah.”
“And Ben?”
“Apparently, once I get his ice cream he’s going to be just dandy.” She lets out a relieved chuckle. “Kids, huh?”
“I wouldn’t know, babe. But I’ll take your word for it.”
“Mommy!” Ben calls out to her from his bed. “Come look, I have my own TV! Can I watch a Transformers movie?”
She rolls her eyes and holds her hand out in surrender.
“Ben: one. Postman’s truck: zero. Come on, I guess it’s time you met Ben.”
I hang back, not sure if she really wants me to. “You sure?”
“Yeah, I might need a babysitter sometime. It helps if you’ve met him so you can say no.”
I can’t help but laugh and follow her into the room.
The room is bright and airy. It’s a single room and the walls are plastered with cartoon characters and happy, funny, positive sayings. Ben is propped up on pillows, his arm slung up to keep it out of harm’s way. He grins at us as we walk in, and I’d know he was Butter’s child a mile away. The same warm, open face. The same blue curious eyes. The same mop of dark hair that has a life of its own.
“Are you a firefighter?” are the first words he speaks to me.
“Um,” I falter, not sure whether to disappoint him now or later.
“This is Brad, Mommy’s friend from when she was little.”
“Little like me?”
“Hmm, maybe a bit bigger. When she was about thirteen years old.”
He giggles and doesn’t stop for quite some time.
“What’s so funny, huh?” Emily goes over and strokes his hair.
“You’re too old to ever have been thirteen years old, Mommy!”
She pretends to look offended, her mouth falling wide open. “Mommy is not old!”
“Is your firefighter friend old?”
“Yes, yes I am,” I tell him as I approach the bed, unable to resist this little mini Butter firecracker. “But I’m not a firefighter.”
“Oh.” His face falls.
“I’m better!” I tell him, nodding seriously.
“Better than a firefighter?” He looks incredulous…and unconvinced,
“Sure. I get to travel around the world, and meet lots of cool people.”
“Like who?”
“Like you, Ben. You’re pretty cool.” I give him a wink and hold out my hand for a high five.
He lifts up his good hand and gives my hand a hard slap. “Oh, thanks, Brad. You’re cool too. Not as cool as if you were a firefighter, but pretty cool.”
Emily bursts into laughter. “Ben: one. Brad: zero.”
***
It’s 9 p.m. and the ward is quiet. Visiting hours are over and the nurses’ station is the only lit up part of the floor. I smile at a couple quietly leaving their child’s bedside, looking exhausted, and probably headed for home. I don’t know how they do it. But I guess you just do what needs to be done.
It’s been a long day, and my body is aching in places that didn’t just a few years ago.
“I really am an old firefighter,” I mumble to myself. “Oh wait, not even as cool as a firefighter.”
“Cooler than a firefighter to me,” Emily whispers, as she closes the door to Ben’s hospital room and wanders over to sit next to me in the row of chairs.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
I lean over and bump my shoulder against hers. She surprises me by leaning her head to rest on it.
“Tired?” I ask her softly.
“Like even more than when I gave birth to him. He didn’t wriggle as much then.”
“He’s definitely a bit of a wriggler now.”
“No kidding.”
“He’s a pretty cool little dude.”
“Yeah. I’ll keep him.”
She sighs and I look down to see her eyes close. As long as it was for me, I can only imagine how hard the day has been for Emily.
“Brad?” she says, he eyes still closed.
“Yeah?”
“I’m not going back with you on tour.”
Her words jolt me out of my fatigue.
I move around to face her as she opens her eyes. “What? Why?”
“It’s…it’s just not right.”
“If this is about Ben, of course I understand…” Reluctantly, but I do.
“It’s partly about him, yes. But…I’d already made the decision last night. I was going to tell you this morning that today was my last day. But then all this happened. I have Phil sending someone else to take over for me for the rest of your tour. I’ll help them do the write-up and I’ll make sure…you know, that it’s going to be a good piece. But I just can’t go with you guys.”
Even after everything we’ve been through today, I can’t help feeling selfish that this is the worst news I could hear at this point.
“But…if it’s not Ben, then why?”
“Things are so complicated between us, Brad. What happened before, what’s happening now…even today, that kiss in the fitting room. That can’t happen.”
“Okay, I’m going to ask one last time. Spell it out for me. I’m a clueless male.”
She opens her mouth. Then closes it. I don’t push her; I want her to have the space to tell once and for all. “I can’t be…I never could have been…just one of many.”
“One of many what, Butter?”
“Girls. Women. Just another warm body in the ever-revolving door to your bed!” she almost yells, and the nurse at the station gives her a look.
“What the fuck?” I whisper, struggling not to raise my voice.
“I know about Felicity, Felicia, whatever.”
“What about her?”
“I know you slept with her,” she finally says, her eyes narrowing and her hands balling up into fists.
I can’t really believe what I’m hearing. “That’s news to me!”
“You were flirting with her all through the interview yesterday, and then I saw her come out of your trailer, and Seb and Cadey said …you know, they could hear you in the room next to theirs!”
Her voice is rising again, so I take her hand and lead her into the empty hallway.
�
�Whoa, whoa, whoa, firstly, I was flirting yes, but that’s just my job, plus I was pissed because I heard you talking to your boyfriend or whatever on the phone.”
“Wait, what? I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“You said you missed him and you love him and you wished he was here.” Now it’s my turn to narrow my eyes and ball up my fists.
“That was Ben, you idiot!”
“Oh.” I feel the large ice boulder on my chest melt completely away. She’s not involved with anyone! That’s the chance I need. Now to make her realize her mistake. “Sure, I flirted with Felicia. But that was it. I’m guessing it was Jez who was hosting Felicia last night, considering it’s his room next to Sebastian’s and I was passed out in your bus last night after dragging you to bed.”
“But…you weren’t there when I got up.” There’s a look of doubt in her eyes.
“I woke up around five and dragged my sorry ass back to my bus.”
“Huh. So you didn’t...?”
“I didn’t… no.”
“And you’re not intending to?”
“Not intending on anything with anyone, if you and I are in the same universe.” I reach down and take her hand and she doesn’t wrench it away. “And you don’t have a boyfriend?”
“I don’t.”
“Huh.”
“Yeah, huh.”
“So, tell me again what the problem is?”
“Brad.”
“Because all I know is that it’s taken me eight years to find my way back to you, and I don’t ever want to leave your side again.”
“I…but Ben.” She shakes her head and pulls her hand away.
It’s a lot to process. And she’s had enough to deal with today. I can give her some space, if it means there’s a chance for a future. And I have an idea.
“Just…okay, just shush. Forget the you and me stuff for a while, okay?” I say, and relief floods her eyes.
“Okay.”
“Get some rest. I’m getting them to set up a cot for you in Ben’s room. I’ll be back tomorrow. With a surprise.”
“Oh God.”
“No, not God, Brad,” I say.
“Just go away, cheesy ball-sack,” she says, shaking her head, unable to hide the grin on her face.
“That’s my girl,” I say as I pull her into a hug, and ignore her playful struggling. She stops and lets my body warm hers for a moment, and I feel her body relax against mine when I say, “I mean it. There’s no one else in the world for me.”
