Don't Forget
The Little Saviour that Could
The baby was small, too small, and in a bubble thing with all kinds of beeping monitors. Connor wished it was Eric who was in his shoes instead. What was he supposed to do with this little thing?
“You should talk,” The nurse who had lead him to his baby’s crib said, “It helps.”
“What am I supposed to say?”
“What ever you want?” The nurse shrugged, “Babies are completely clean slates. They don’t know good or bad or inappropriate. They just know love.”
What hippy bullshit! Connor scuffed internally. Connor sat in the fold-able white plastic seat near the little one. The nurse nodded satisfied with his reaction and left the room.
“I’m not supposed to be here.” Connor said over the hospital monitors to the bubble thing, “The best person for this is still in surgery to stop the internal bleeding. The second best is too busy enjoying his own personal pity party, so you’re stuck with me. Third runner up…” Connor's eyes stung. A sign tears were coming to his eyes. When was the last time he cried? When his parents and Mia’s parents pried them apart on moving day. About 20 years ago, “Fuck,” He whispered. He was alone with his and five other bubble creatures, “Fuck,” He sniffed. As soon as the tears started they wouldn't stop, “I’m so sorry.” He whispered and cried silent tears.
He glanced into his bubble and froze. The little creature was staring at him with big bright eyes. Mia’s eyes. Connor got to his feet so fast his chair toppled over behind him, “You hear me Stinky?” Connor pressed his hand to the glass, “Well you listen up, I’ll make you a deal. When it finally comes time for you to see her I’ll take you myself. I’ll even give you some years of my life, but you've got to stay strong right now.” He coughed over a sob when he thought of Eric, broken in the waiting room, “You've gotta be strong for fucking all of us. We need you.”
“You should talk,” The nurse who had lead him to his baby’s crib said, “It helps.”
“What am I supposed to say?”
“What ever you want?” The nurse shrugged, “Babies are completely clean slates. They don’t know good or bad or inappropriate. They just know love.”
What hippy bullshit! Connor scuffed internally. Connor sat in the fold-able white plastic seat near the little one. The nurse nodded satisfied with his reaction and left the room.
“I’m not supposed to be here.” Connor said over the hospital monitors to the bubble thing, “The best person for this is still in surgery to stop the internal bleeding. The second best is too busy enjoying his own personal pity party, so you’re stuck with me. Third runner up…” Connor's eyes stung. A sign tears were coming to his eyes. When was the last time he cried? When his parents and Mia’s parents pried them apart on moving day. About 20 years ago, “Fuck,” He whispered. He was alone with his and five other bubble creatures, “Fuck,” He sniffed. As soon as the tears started they wouldn't stop, “I’m so sorry.” He whispered and cried silent tears.
He glanced into his bubble and froze. The little creature was staring at him with big bright eyes. Mia’s eyes. Connor got to his feet so fast his chair toppled over behind him, “You hear me Stinky?” Connor pressed his hand to the glass, “Well you listen up, I’ll make you a deal. When it finally comes time for you to see her I’ll take you myself. I’ll even give you some years of my life, but you've got to stay strong right now.” He coughed over a sob when he thought of Eric, broken in the waiting room, “You've gotta be strong for fucking all of us. We need you.”