When we were wallflowers

18

"Oh mon dieu, Matthew!" Papa shouted. I laughed nervously, and Alfred continued to help me. Papa opened the car door, and Alfred took a seat beside me. "We are going to the hospital!" Papa announced. I nodded and gestured for Alfred to help me put my seat belt on. Papa began to drive quickly, not speeding, but pretty fast. "How did you hurt yourself?" Papa asked. "He fell down the stairs," Alfred spoke, holding back his anger.

I'm guessing he did not want to tell him what happened yet. I looked at Alfred, worried, then down to where his hand was. He was gripping his backpack angrily, and I noticed his bruised hand. How did he get that?

I looked at Alfred; his face had anger written all over it. When Alfred gets angry, it is scary. It is like he has this newfound strength and could hurt someone with a single punch. Thinking about all of this, as I sit here in pain, I wouldn't mind if Alfred punched Adnan.

~
When we arrived at the emergency room, I did my best to not scream from pain. Luckily I didn't make an utter peep. The doctor had to take an x-ray and touch my arm, and it was so painful.

Within the first hour of arriving, the doctor worked fast to put me in an arm cast after the x-ray. He said I would need the cast for six weeks and then move to a sling for the next six weeks after—a total of twelve weeks for my arm to heal.

"Alright, how does that feel?" The doctor asked.

"It hurts when I move a little."

"Yeah, try not to move that arm so much; good thing you still have your right hand," he laughed.

"Give it to me straight, doc! How long does he have left!" Alfred spoke frantically. I laughed at him as he began to stroke my hair and held onto me. "He has a long life to live," the doctor laughed. "Thank goodness!" Alfred breathed out. I shook my head at him with a smile, and the doctor stood from his seat.

"Alright, the nurse will help you schedule another appointment to check the progress at the end of the month. We are all done here," the doctor smiled. "Thank you so much," Papa smiled.

When the doctor left the room, Papa looked at us seriously. Immediately I tensed up, and both Alfred and I looked away from him. "Okay, that proves my suspicion! What happened?" Papa demanded. I looked at him nervously, and he had a sad look on his face.

"I pick the two of you up, Matthew has a broken arm, and Alfred, you looked like you just got into a fight! Don't think I didn't notice the bruise on your knuckles! What happened to the two of you today?" Papa asked. I looked to Alfred, who was still looking away. I wonder if he did get into a fight, but with who?

"Papa, the truth is... I lied. I don't know why I lied precisely, but something strange happened with Alfred that I wanted to know first. I fell... and Alfred tried to catch me and hurt himself..."

Papa looked at me sadly and took a seat in front of me. He looked like he did not believe me at all. "Look, I know I'll never be your dad, and he was better at this stuff than I was. But—please just talk to me. I can help, too, I promise. Don't keep me in the dark, and it makes me feel like I won't be good enough to protect you," Papa spoke. He looked at me sadly, and I tried to hold back tears.

Alfred finally looked at Papa, and he walked over to him. Alfred rested his head against him, and they both grabbed my right hand. "Papa, you are good enough, too good. I know dad would think you are doing a great job so far, so don't put so much pressure on yourself," I spoke.

I grabbed his hand tighter, and he smiled at me. "We are all doing our best; isn't that what matters?" Alfred asked. "Of course..." Papa whispered. He pulled my hand up to his face and kissed the back of it. "I love the both of you; I want to protect you with every fiber of my being, So don't make it hard," Papa spoke.

Alfred hugged him tighter, and Papa held onto Alfred. "We should probably get going, Matthew. Did you want to stay home tomorrow?" Papa asked. I laughed at what he said and nodded. "Yeah, I actually do," I answered. "What? Can I stay home too?" Alfred spoke. He looked at Papa with puppy eyes, and he rolled his eyes. "Fine! But easy on the rough-housing, Matthew is delicate right now," Papa spoke.

"Yes, Officer!" Alfred spoke.

I rolled my eyes and slowly stood up. "Well, since we will spend the day together, I will plan a great breakfast! We will have fun tomorrow! Maybe go out? We can figure it out later," Papa laughed. He put an arm around Alfred and me and began to walk with us toward the door. He was trying his best; I felt terrible and wondered if Alfred and I were a handful. Since the day Alfred woke up, both of us have been a handful. I've never stopped thinking that he hasn't had the chance to sit down and grieve.

I rubbed my head into my Papa's arm and felt his warmth. He was different now, and I wanted him to be whole again, but I knew that would only work if our dad were here. Our dad should still be here right now...but he wasn't. Why did grief feel this way? The days when you can't process that someone in your life is no longer around. Death is a scary yet funny concept. There was no way of escaping feelings like this. "I love you both," Papa whispered.

"We love you too," Alfred answered.