either one of those things. Tears started running down my face. I must’ve looked like a big baby but I didn’t care.
“I didn’t even get to talk to her.”
The weird thing is, somebody tells you your mom is dead, you’d think it would be like stuff they say on television, your heart would be breaking.
Only my heart was sort of numb. My voice went away entirely and it was my jaw that might break. My mouth was wide open. I wasn’t making a sound and I couldn’t close it.
I never cried like that before.
Miss Sahara kept on smiling and listing diseases I mostly never heard of. This guy in a white coat—maybe he was a doctor only not in a big hurry to go anywhere—came over and said, “What’s going on here?”
She showed him even more teeth and said, “I’m trying to sort things out. We’re having a little meltdown here.”
“I thought,” I managed to say, “it was just a broken leg.”
My voice came out so hoarse, I don’t think they understood me. She looked away and talked to him in a lower voice, as if I had left the room. “His mother’s the spiral fracture. No purse, and she’s out like a light.”
“Okay, fella, deep breath. Way deep,” the guy said. I noticed his name tag, it said STAN. Stan the man, I’d heard that somewhere. “Everything’s going to be fine. Just you and your mom out together today?”
I tried to get a deep breath that wasn’t the kind that had to do with crying. I had this feeling like a belt pulled tight around my chest.
“Shake your head yes or no.”
I shook yes.
“Your dad at home?”
No.
“Your dad live with you?”
No.
“Got a grandma or grandpa?”
Yes. A grandfather.
I never saw him. I talked to him on the phone at Christmas and my birthday, that was about it.
While I was answering Stan, my jaw started to relax. He saw that, I guess, because he sat down andwaited for me to be able to talk. “It was a broken leg,” I said, finally.
Miss Sahara’s smile shrank just enough to look like I’d said something stupid. “A spiral fracture is—”
“—a certain kind of broken leg,” Stan said.
“That can be fixed,” I said. “They didn’t have to put her to sleep.”
Now it was Stan who looked like somebody’d said something stupid. Only he looked that look at Miss Sahara, who turned red.
“Your mom’s going to be okay,” he said to me. “The doctor gave her something to
help
her sleep so she wouldn’t be in pain.”
“She’s not dead?”
“No way, man,” Stan said. “Sleeping like a baby. They’re going to have to operate, though. Miss Sahara, here, it’s her job to ask you questions your mom can’t answer now.”
The tears didn’t quit. They ran so fast I couldn’t keep my eyes open. My face sort of crumpled. My breath came faster.
“Hang on, hang on,” Stan said. “Your mom’s fine. At least, she’s going to be.”
It took a minute but I started to feel like I knewthat. The tears stopped. I could breathe the way I usually did. Stan looked at me like I was somebody he already knew, which sounds strange but felt good.
I looked at Miss Sahara. She still had that awful smile on her face.
“So,” she said, making it sound the way a bird chirps. “Does your mother take medication for anything?”
“Aspirin, sometimes.”
“Anything give her a rash?”
“Mangos make her look like a blowfish.”
“Mangos,” she said as if it was good news. She wrote it down. “Anything else?”
I shook my head no.
“No worries there, then,” she said, getting ready to write. “Let’s get to you. Your name?”
“Jake Wexler.”
“Jake. What’s that short for?”
“It’s Jake on my birth certificate,” I said, as I sometimes have to do. We went through a list; I sat down carefully, because I had fallen on my butt. I told her Mom’s name and our address and other stuff. I remembered who Mom’s doctor is.
“Now about somebody to call,” Miss Sahara said.
“For what?”
“To take care of you,”
“I didn’t even get to talk to her.”
The weird thing is, somebody tells you your mom is dead, you’d think it would be like stuff they say on television, your heart would be breaking.
Only my heart was sort of numb. My voice went away entirely and it was my jaw that might break. My mouth was wide open. I wasn’t making a sound and I couldn’t close it.
I never cried like that before.
Miss Sahara kept on smiling and listing diseases I mostly never heard of. This guy in a white coat—maybe he was a doctor only not in a big hurry to go anywhere—came over and said, “What’s going on here?”
She showed him even more teeth and said, “I’m trying to sort things out. We’re having a little meltdown here.”
“I thought,” I managed to say, “it was just a broken leg.”
My voice came out so hoarse, I don’t think they understood me. She looked away and talked to him in a lower voice, as if I had left the room. “His mother’s the spiral fracture. No purse, and she’s out like a light.”
“Okay, fella, deep breath. Way deep,” the guy said. I noticed his name tag, it said STAN. Stan the man, I’d heard that somewhere. “Everything’s going to be fine. Just you and your mom out together today?”
I tried to get a deep breath that wasn’t the kind that had to do with crying. I had this feeling like a belt pulled tight around my chest.
“Shake your head yes or no.”
I shook yes.
“Your dad at home?”
No.
“Your dad live with you?”
No.
“Got a grandma or grandpa?”
Yes. A grandfather.
I never saw him. I talked to him on the phone at Christmas and my birthday, that was about it.
While I was answering Stan, my jaw started to relax. He saw that, I guess, because he sat down andwaited for me to be able to talk. “It was a broken leg,” I said, finally.
Miss Sahara’s smile shrank just enough to look like I’d said something stupid. “A spiral fracture is—”
“—a certain kind of broken leg,” Stan said.
“That can be fixed,” I said. “They didn’t have to put her to sleep.”
Now it was Stan who looked like somebody’d said something stupid. Only he looked that look at Miss Sahara, who turned red.
“Your mom’s going to be okay,” he said to me. “The doctor gave her something to
help
her sleep so she wouldn’t be in pain.”
“She’s not dead?”
“No way, man,” Stan said. “Sleeping like a baby. They’re going to have to operate, though. Miss Sahara, here, it’s her job to ask you questions your mom can’t answer now.”
The tears didn’t quit. They ran so fast I couldn’t keep my eyes open. My face sort of crumpled. My breath came faster.
“Hang on, hang on,” Stan said. “Your mom’s fine. At least, she’s going to be.”
It took a minute but I started to feel like I knewthat. The tears stopped. I could breathe the way I usually did. Stan looked at me like I was somebody he already knew, which sounds strange but felt good.
I looked at Miss Sahara. She still had that awful smile on her face.
“So,” she said, making it sound the way a bird chirps. “Does your mother take medication for anything?”
“Aspirin, sometimes.”
“Anything give her a rash?”
“Mangos make her look like a blowfish.”
“Mangos,” she said as if it was good news. She wrote it down. “Anything else?”
I shook my head no.
“No worries there, then,” she said, getting ready to write. “Let’s get to you. Your name?”
“Jake Wexler.”
“Jake. What’s that short for?”
“It’s Jake on my birth certificate,” I said, as I sometimes have to do. We went through a list; I sat down carefully, because I had fallen on my butt. I told her Mom’s name and our address and other stuff. I remembered who Mom’s doctor is.
“Now about somebody to call,” Miss Sahara said.
“For what?”
“To take care of you,”