Zip, Zero, Zilch
Page 2
There’s a commotion in the hallway and my four sisters come into the room. They’re on their tiptoes almost, trying to be quiet. Emily gives them the story, and they sit down beside one another on the floor and lean against the wall.
The Reeds take people in like they’re family. Anyone. The only requirement is that you have a pulse. And if you don’t have a heart, they’ll give you theirs. So my sisters and I already feel a connection here, but I can’t help but think that we should leave and give them some privacy.
“Where are the kids?” Lark asks.
“With a sitter,” Friday says.
“All of them?”
There are a lot of Reed kids too. Paul and Friday have two—three if you count Jacob. And Matt and Sky have four little ones plus Seth. Emily and Logan have one.
Matt sniggers. “You say it like we have our own circus.”
“Well, if the shoe fits,” Lark says.
Pete holds up a finger. “That would be shoes—plural. Lots of circus animals.”
Do you want us to go and take care of the kids? I ask. We’d be happy to.
Sky, Matt’s wife, shakes her head. “We’re going to go home as soon as we find out what’s happening. He’s going to be fine. I’m certain.” She squeezes my hand.
Ten bucks says the wives might go home, but the brothers won’t. Or at least not all of them.
A man in green scrubs walks into the room. “Reed family?” he asks.
“Here,” they all say at once. The doctor looks around the room and shakes his head.
“Immediate family?” he asks.
“Here,” they all say at once again.
“Get on with it,” Paul barks.
“Your brother is a very lucky man,” the doctor says as he pulls his glasses from his face and brushes a finger over the bridge of his nose. “He broke his tibia—one of the bones in the lower leg—in the crash, and has a pretty bad head laceration. We stitched him up, set the leg, put him in a cast, and we’re going to need to keep him at least overnight.”
“Why?” Pete asks.
“The team physician wants us to keep an eye on him.”
So they know who he is. And what he does.
“How did the team know?”
The doctor shrugs. “I called them.” He glares at us. “He plays pro ball.” He says it like it’s the Holy Grail. “They’re sending the team physician to evaluate him in the morning.”
The door bursts open, and a couple of men and a few women walk into the room. They’re loud and noisy and they’re extremely disrespectful.
“Will he still be able to play?” one of them asks.
The doctor shakes his head. “He’s going to be on the bench for a while. It’s a damn shame, too.”
Paul swipes a hand down his face and takes a deep breath.
“Some players come back from an injury like this,” the doctor says helpfully.
Oh, hell, there’s a chance he might not play again?
“Can we see him?” Pete asks.
“One at a time,” the doctor says with a nod.
“Which way?” Pete barks. The doctor points.
Pete takes Reagan’s hand and drags her down the hallway. “Only one!” the doctor calls.
“We are only one,” Pete yells back, but he doesn’t stop.
“Matt, you should go next,” Paul says. “You have kids to get back home to.”
Matt nods, but he says, “So do you.”
“I’m going to hang out for a while anyway.”
“You know Pete’s not going to go home tonight,” Matt says.
Paul nods. “I know.”
Pete and Sam are twins. They have a bond.
The doctor shakes hands with Paul and leaves the room. The people who came in last swarm Paul, asking questions. It turns out they’re from the team. And the girls are cheerleaders.
“Only family can visit,” Paul warns.
“We know,” one of the girls says. “We heard about the accident and just wanted to come and check on him. We won’t stay long.”
I sit down beside my sisters. “Y-you should go h-home,” I say to them quietly. I talk to my sisters. I always have. My stutter isn’t as bad when I talk to them. Not as bad as it is with anyone else.
“We’ll wait,” Lark says. She leans the back of her head against the wall, and tilts it so that she can look at me. She takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “He’s going to be fine,” she says.
I take a breath.
I sit quietly as his brothers come and go. Pete and Reagan come out, and Matt and Sky go in. And the cycle continues until everyone has had a visit. Pete kisses Reagan goodbye. It looks like he’s going to spend the night after all. “This is a pretty sucky wedding night,” he tells her.
“You’ll make up for it later,” she teases him. He hugs her, and then walks her and the rest of them out to waiting cabs.
When Pete comes back, I stand up and wipe off the butt of my pants. I should go home. I can do nothing for anyone here.
Pete motions toward the hallway. “Come on,” he says. He doesn’t want the team members or the cheerleaders to see me. I sneak to the doorway and follow him down the hall. The smell of disinfectant tickles my nose.
When we get to Sam’s room, he’s sitting up, but his eyes are closed.
I don’t want to wake him, I sign.
He smiles. “You’re the only one he asked for.”
The Reeds take people in like they’re family. Anyone. The only requirement is that you have a pulse. And if you don’t have a heart, they’ll give you theirs. So my sisters and I already feel a connection here, but I can’t help but think that we should leave and give them some privacy.
“Where are the kids?” Lark asks.
“With a sitter,” Friday says.
“All of them?”
There are a lot of Reed kids too. Paul and Friday have two—three if you count Jacob. And Matt and Sky have four little ones plus Seth. Emily and Logan have one.
Matt sniggers. “You say it like we have our own circus.”
“Well, if the shoe fits,” Lark says.
Pete holds up a finger. “That would be shoes—plural. Lots of circus animals.”
Do you want us to go and take care of the kids? I ask. We’d be happy to.
Sky, Matt’s wife, shakes her head. “We’re going to go home as soon as we find out what’s happening. He’s going to be fine. I’m certain.” She squeezes my hand.
Ten bucks says the wives might go home, but the brothers won’t. Or at least not all of them.
A man in green scrubs walks into the room. “Reed family?” he asks.
“Here,” they all say at once. The doctor looks around the room and shakes his head.
“Immediate family?” he asks.
“Here,” they all say at once again.
“Get on with it,” Paul barks.
“Your brother is a very lucky man,” the doctor says as he pulls his glasses from his face and brushes a finger over the bridge of his nose. “He broke his tibia—one of the bones in the lower leg—in the crash, and has a pretty bad head laceration. We stitched him up, set the leg, put him in a cast, and we’re going to need to keep him at least overnight.”
“Why?” Pete asks.
“The team physician wants us to keep an eye on him.”
So they know who he is. And what he does.
“How did the team know?”
The doctor shrugs. “I called them.” He glares at us. “He plays pro ball.” He says it like it’s the Holy Grail. “They’re sending the team physician to evaluate him in the morning.”
The door bursts open, and a couple of men and a few women walk into the room. They’re loud and noisy and they’re extremely disrespectful.
“Will he still be able to play?” one of them asks.
The doctor shakes his head. “He’s going to be on the bench for a while. It’s a damn shame, too.”
Paul swipes a hand down his face and takes a deep breath.
“Some players come back from an injury like this,” the doctor says helpfully.
Oh, hell, there’s a chance he might not play again?
“Can we see him?” Pete asks.
“One at a time,” the doctor says with a nod.
“Which way?” Pete barks. The doctor points.
Pete takes Reagan’s hand and drags her down the hallway. “Only one!” the doctor calls.
“We are only one,” Pete yells back, but he doesn’t stop.
“Matt, you should go next,” Paul says. “You have kids to get back home to.”
Matt nods, but he says, “So do you.”
“I’m going to hang out for a while anyway.”
“You know Pete’s not going to go home tonight,” Matt says.
Paul nods. “I know.”
Pete and Sam are twins. They have a bond.
The doctor shakes hands with Paul and leaves the room. The people who came in last swarm Paul, asking questions. It turns out they’re from the team. And the girls are cheerleaders.
“Only family can visit,” Paul warns.
“We know,” one of the girls says. “We heard about the accident and just wanted to come and check on him. We won’t stay long.”
I sit down beside my sisters. “Y-you should go h-home,” I say to them quietly. I talk to my sisters. I always have. My stutter isn’t as bad when I talk to them. Not as bad as it is with anyone else.
“We’ll wait,” Lark says. She leans the back of her head against the wall, and tilts it so that she can look at me. She takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “He’s going to be fine,” she says.
I take a breath.
I sit quietly as his brothers come and go. Pete and Reagan come out, and Matt and Sky go in. And the cycle continues until everyone has had a visit. Pete kisses Reagan goodbye. It looks like he’s going to spend the night after all. “This is a pretty sucky wedding night,” he tells her.
“You’ll make up for it later,” she teases him. He hugs her, and then walks her and the rest of them out to waiting cabs.
When Pete comes back, I stand up and wipe off the butt of my pants. I should go home. I can do nothing for anyone here.
Pete motions toward the hallway. “Come on,” he says. He doesn’t want the team members or the cheerleaders to see me. I sneak to the doorway and follow him down the hall. The smell of disinfectant tickles my nose.
When we get to Sam’s room, he’s sitting up, but his eyes are closed.
I don’t want to wake him, I sign.
He smiles. “You’re the only one he asked for.”
