Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94393 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94393 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Who I was trying desperately not to think about.
And failing miserably.
“You know what, Matty?” I said as I wrote a big M on the piece of paper covered in Tic Tac Toe boards. “I am going to go home and practice and tomorrow I want a rematch, okay?”
“Okay,” Matty said and he gave me what I could only perceive as a placating smile. Of all the kids I visited each day, Matty was one that stuck close to my heart, though I wasn’t really sure why. Maybe because he had an uncanny ability to empathize with a person; it was unexpected in someone so young. But the first thing he’d asked me the day after I’d left Mav sitting on his bike in front of my apartment three days earlier was why I was so sad. And while sad might not have been the exact right word, the five-year-old boy had come pretty close to nailing what I was feeling.
Lost.
Which made no sense because I’d spent a cumulative total of a couple of hours with Mav and that was it. And what I should have been was angry.
Angry for him prying into my life. Angry that he’d seen the things I’d worked so hard to hide. Angry that he’d let me go when I’d walked away from him.
I started to rise from my chair when Matty held his arms out expectantly. I leaned down and carefully hugged him, mindful of the central line in his chest. I felt tears sting my eyes as I always did when I said my goodbyes to one of the half dozen kids I visited. I’d never known true strength until the day I’d walked through the doors of the ICS unit and seen the smiling faces, little bald heads and frail bodies of the kids who’d been handed the raw deal of being stricken with cancer. And this particular little boy had wormed his way into my heart even further. Maybe because of his compassion or his obsession with superheroes, I wasn’t really sure. I knew part of it was the men who’d banded around him to form a family and that reminded me of the family I’d always dreamed of being a real part of…of the men who’d saved me and showed me what family was even when there wasn’t a shared drop of blood between you.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” I said to Matty as I released him and stood.
Matty nodded and then did something I wasn’t expecting. He lifted his Spiderman doll and said, “Do you want to borrow Spidey?”
“I…um…don’t you need him?” I stuttered, completely flustered.
Matty glanced over at Hawke before turning his attention back on me. “He helps people,” Matty said as he held the doll out expectantly. “Papa was sad but now he’s happy,” Matty explained, though I had no idea what he meant.
I lifted my eyes to look at Hawke and he gave me a small nod. I took the doll from Matty and shook my head and then leaned down to give him another hug. “I’ll take good care of him,” I murmured.
I held Matty for a little longer than necessary, but the little boy didn’t seem to mind and when I finally let him go, he was grinning again. I stepped around his bed and started to leave the room when Hawke stood and said, “Are you heading out? I’ll walk with you…I left something in my car.”
I’d made it a habit of making Matty my last visit of the day because I inevitably ended up spending more time with him than the other kids, so it didn’t surprise me that Hawke knew I was heading home after the visit. What did surprise me was that this was the second time in three days the man had “forgotten” something in his car.
“Matty, I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”
“Okay,” Matty responded and I saw him flip open a coloring book that was on the tray in front of him.
Hawke followed me out of the room and spoke to the man standing guard outside. “Dante, you mind sitting with him for a bit?” Hawke asked.
The good looking young man’s eyes slid over me for a moment before he nodded and turned to go into the room. I hadn’t missed the man checking me out on more than one occasion, but surprisingly, the looks never made me uncomfortable; not like so many of the men who often leered at me. With them I was always propelled back to the past when men used to size me up as they decided if I was worth the money I was charging for them to use my body in any way they wanted. With Dante, it was more like he was appreciating something, though I really didn’t know what.
But even though there wasn’t that discomfort I’d expected to feel, there wasn’t anything else either.