2. Damon

"Are you sure there's not somebody else you want to call?"

The nurse spoke in a whisper. There was no one else in the waiting room, or I'd have assumed it was for privacy. I looked up at her through my blurred vision, her small smile much appreciated. She was asking out of kindness, not judgment, unlike the intake nurse in the ER.

"There's no one else." My brother Sandy still hadn't arrived, and my parents were on vacation in France. There was no way I was going to call them and ruin their trip. Not when they couldn't do anything from where they were and especially not until I had some solid news on the prognosis. Let them have their trip

She didn't like that I was here alone. As if I did. I needed someone to distract me from the spiraling in my head that went back and forth between what-ifs and "it's all my fault." I couldn't help but feel that I was responsible for us being here. If only I had said no, then George wouldn't be in surgery, fighting for his little life.

As I sat in an empty room filled with nothing but decorations meant to calm visitors but only managed to be reminders of the seriousness of the place, I realized I was one of those dads. And still, even so, I ended up here.

Being overly cautious had been put on my shoulders. I was the only parent that George had. The only one he knew, anyway. If I wasn't the one looking out for him, protecting him, keeping him safe, no one would. Just like if I was the one making the money to put the food on the table, and the one who took the sick days when he had the flu, and the one who got him new socks when his old ones got a hole in them. It was me, just me, and it had been since before he was born.

His sperm donor was not what you would call excited about being a father. The day he found out I was pregnant, he took off, and that was that. He didn't even pretend to be excited. Heck, he didn't even act mad. He thanked me for telling him, and the next day—gone. The note he left said, "I have no plans to be a dad." As if either of us had planned it.

I hadn't heard from him since that day. When the nurse at the hospital told me I didn't need to put anyone on the birth certificate, I left him off. If he were on it, I'd be legally tied to him, and he'd made it abundantly clear that he didn't want that.

His mom knew, though. I reached out to her, wanting to do the right thing. If there was ever a time that he wanted to find his son, he could. I wasn't holding my breath. She hadn't been exactly excited when I told her the news. She'd been just as pissed as he was. My grandfather used to say that if you planted a potato, you get a potato. In this case, they were both potatoes.

George knew that he had a father who wasn't ready to be a father. I didn't tell him all the bad that came with that. I just stated the facts and was done. He didn't deserve to know that he was rejected so harshly before he was born. I'd let him figure it out on his own when he was much older. For now, he looked at it as more of a footnote to his life. If the day changed and he wanted to find his bio dad, I'd help him. But that was a bridge for another day, a bridge I wasn't sure we'd have time to reach only a few short hours ago.

Most days, I did okay with the single-dad thing. I had a good job at the library, we always had food, we always had shelter, he always had a good education. But then there were days like today when I just really messed up. I was beyond messed up. At least my gut took full responsibility, even if my head said it wasn't completely mine.

When he got invited to go to his friend's to play, I did what I always do. I asked the questions, the ones that would keep him safe. Are there any guns on the premises? If so, how are they stored? How will you prevent the kids from finding them? Is there a pool on the premises? How is it blocked off from the children? How will you keep them protected? Is there a fire pit? And if there is, will it be used? If it is, how will it be protected? I knew the dangers. I asked about them and made my decisions accordingly, much to the annoyance of many parents. They saw it as me mistrusting them, but it was never that. If it were, I wouldn't have taken the time to ask, I'd have declined the offer.

And then today, today one danger I never thought of was there. Their backyard butted up to a construction site, and little kids did what little kids do—they got curious. Only this time, their curiosity had them trying to hop over a fence to go check out the construction zone. I'd have done the same thing as a kid.

George was an amazing climber. He started as a toddler and never stopped. There were days I wondered if mountain climbing was in his future. The other kids didn't manage to scale the fence. It was designed to keep people out and not for recreational adventure. But George managed with ease, except when he climbed over, he lost his balance and fell. Not normally a big deal, but he didn't land on the ground, he landed on rebar, and it went right through him. He literally impaled himself.

Thank gods the mother knew not to take him off the rebar and called straight for help. I wasn't sure I could've done that. I'd have wanted to remove it, even if I'd seen enough television doctor shows to know that was the absolute worst thing you could do.

The EMTs and all the doctors said that if she had done that—done what I would've done—George wouldn't be with us today. She saved his life, and I'd be forever grateful for that.

By the time I arrived at the scene, they were already loading him into the ambulance. As much as I wanted to be there for him the second he got hurt, I was grateful that she called the people who could help him first. He needed them more than me at that time, just like he needed the doctors more than me now.

Everything since I arrived at the hospital had been a whirlwind, and I was sure I'd missed a lot of what was happening, my adrenaline running so high. Now that he was with the surgeons and everything had slowed down, reality really slammed into me. I wouldn't know anything for sure for a while. I simply had to wait and wait and wait.

The doctors said even today's surgery might not be enough. He might be looking at multiple surgeries or… they stopped short of saying my greatest fear, simply assuring me that they were going to do their best.

"If you need anything, I'll be over here." She pointed through the glass window to the nurses' station.

"I'll be fine," I lied. Nothing about me was fine. "I called my brother Sandy and told him to come and where I was."

I wasn't sure why he didn't answer my call. He was one of the few people I knew who picked up every single time it rang. I assumed he was in some big work thing and couldn't get out, but he'd be here. I knew he'd be here. He had to be. I didn't think I could handle this alone.

"Okay, well, if you need anything, come see me. Seriously, even if it's just a cup of bad coffee you want."

Her empathy shone through bright like the sun. I didn't know how she did her job, coming in every day and saying things like this over and over again. Probably not things just like this, either. Some kids weren't as lucky as mine, if this could be considered lucky.

The doctor said it was "a freak accident the likes he'd never seen," which didn't really make me feel any better. When you came to the ER, you wanted to hear, "Oh yeah, well, we're just fixing them up now and he can go home soon," not, "We're looking at a really lengthy surgery and we're doing the best we can."

Doing the best we can.I wanted more than that. I wanted them to do it right and to fix him… to make him better. It wasn't fair to them, but I didn't give a rat's ass about fair. I wanted my son running around and having fun, not in a multi-hour surgery.

I took out my work lanyard, and behind my ID was a little piece of paper—my prized possession. George had made it for me when he was two, nearly three. I don't know why this particular note was one that meant so much to me. Maybe because it was the first time that he "delivered" mail. He'd been so proud. Maybe it was because he drew me in green crayon because my favorite color was green. Or maybe just that it was the first time that he made a person that almost looked like one. But whatever the case, it was my treasure.

I unfolded it and looked down at the picture of me and remembered his eyes as he handed it over. "Don't worry, George. We'll do everything we can. You have the best doctors in the state. I promise you."

If only that meant it was downhill from here. He was going to be in a lot of pain for a long time and that was the best-case scenario. I hated that for him.

I didn't even get to talk to him after the accident. Not really. He'd already been sedated by the time the doctors let me back in, and they said he could hear me, but I wasn't sure how true that was. Still, I tried in the short time I had with him.

One last glance and I folded it up the drawing and put it back in my ID holder.

I waited and waited and waited some more.

Some noise caught my attention, but I didn't look up. It wasn't the nurse here for me and that was all I cared about.