We Own the Sky(39)

“And I’ll be asleep? They’ll take away the injuries when I’m asleep?”

“Exactly, beautiful.”

Jack beamed. He was excited about staying overnight in the hospital.

“Daddy, will I be there for a long, long time ago?”

I smiled, pushing his hair out of his face. “No, just a few days, the doctor said, maybe a week. And, Jack, you don’t have to say a ‘long, long time ago.’”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t need it. You can just say a long time. You don’t need to say the ‘ago.’”

Jack didn’t look convinced. “But in the stories they always say ‘a long, long time ago.’”

“Right, but...”

Jack looked up at me and fluttered his eyelashes.

“Never mind, son,” I said, pulling him closer to me.

We walked back through the heath toward home and Jack seemed content but

solemn, as if something was on his mind. He was narrowing his eyes, the way he did when he was trying to solve a puzzle or do one of his jigsaws.

“Daddy, will I get better, after I’m in the hospital?” he said suddenly.

“Of course you will,” I said, smiling cheerily at him. “That’s why you’re going to the hospital, so they can make you better.”

Jack looked up at me, but then bowed his head again, as if he was watching where he was walking.

“Daddy,” he said, looking down at his shoes. “You know Jamie Redmond?”

“I don’t think so.”

“He’s in my school. He’s in first grade, but he does some of his lessons with us.”

“Is he your friend?”

“Nooooo,” Jack said, stopping on the pavement, as if I had just said the most preposterous thing. “Jamie Redmond isn’t friends with anyone!”

“Oh. Well, you be nice to him if he doesn’t have any friends.”

We walked in silence, and I could tell he was thinking about something.

“So why did you mention this Jamie Redmond?” I asked after a while.

Jack thought for a moment and looked sheepish, as if he was in trouble.

“Because Jamie Redmond said I was going to die. He said I had an injury in my head, and everyone with injuries in their heads dies.”

Jack didn’t sound perturbed, as if dying was of no consequence, like falling

asleep or finishing early at school.

“Well, Jamie Redmond doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You’re not

going to die, Jack, and you’re going to get better. Okay? He shouldn’t be saying things like that.”

“It’s okay, Daddy, I told him he was a silly-billy,” Jack said. “I told him that everyone dies one day, and everyone knows that.”

“Good,” I said.

“Actually, Daddy, there’s lots of things Jamie Redmond doesn’t know. Maybe that’s why he’s in first grade, but he has to do our lessons.”

I sniggered a little. “You didn’t say that to him, did you?”

“Noooo,” Jack said.

“Good, because even if he’s mean to you, you don’t want to be mean to him.”

Jack nodded. “I didn’t say it to him because Jamie Redmond is very big, and he hits people. He’s even bigger than you, Daddy.”

“Good,” I said, squeezing Jack’s shoulder. “Is he bigger than the Incredible Hulk?”

“Don’t be silly. Nobody’s bigger than the Incredible Hulk.”

  *

Dr. Flanagan’s office couldn’t have been more different to Dr. Kennety’s, with its high Georgian ceilings and oversize antique furniture. Dr. Flanagan’s office looked like a children’s ward, with painted murals and tiny furniture and a play corner with a ball pit tucked inside a large alcove.

“Hello,” Dr. Flanagan said, coming out into the waiting room. In her yellow smock and bright orange Crocs, she looked like a preschool assistant. Don’t let her appearance deceive you, Dr. Kennety had said. Julia Flanagan was the best in the business. We had read about her online. Parents called her a miracle worker: the pioneering brain surgeon who had dedicated her career to saving children’s lives.

“And this must be Jack,” she said, as she led us into her office. “I like your Tshirt,” she said, pointing to the bats flying around the dinosaur’s head. Jack blushed and smiled.

Dr. Flanagan turned to us as we sat down. “Before we start, one thing for Mom and Dad.” She suddenly seemed very businesslike. Don’t let the smock and Crocs deceive you, people said about her on  Hope’s Place. She was blunt, did not have much of a bedside manner, but she would do everything for your kids.

“I’m sure you saw it on my website, but I have a rule. I don’t allow any of my consultations to go over twenty minutes, and I’m a brutal timekeeper. It’s very important for me to keep to this. That way I can see as many patients as possible.”

“Yes, of course,” I said. We had read about her strict appointment times.

People on  Hope’s Place said she would cut them off midsentence, pointing to her watch.

“Good,” she said, turning to Jack. “Now, I’ve got some lollipops in my desk.