Fragile

Jackson

I entered April's apartment, the aroma Thanksgiving food filled my nose. A pang of guilt filled my chest, secretly missing her and her cooking. I closed the door quietly and pulled my coat off, looking around. April had her back turned from the door, facing the stove, stirring some mash potatoes and you were sitting on the floor putting stickers on a paper hand turkey with you newly un-casted arm.

"Hey baby girl." I said to you, setting down some steamed vegetables on the counter. I turned to your mother. "I brought some veggies."

She nodded, not turning from the pot. You, however, jumped up carefully and scooted into my arms. "Daddy!"

"Hi Hattie Bug, what are you making?"

You leaned away from me and wrapped your frail arms around my neck. "Turkeys for the room decor. It'll make it look very festive." You pecked my forehead with a kiss.

"Harriet, hurry and finish those hand turkeys before the rest of the guests get here. Don't get glue on your new dress from grandma." April said, checking in on the buns that were in the oven.

Your eyes lit up. "Daddy do you like my dress? Isn't it pretty? Grandma and grandpa Richard sent it over! Are they coming tonight?"

I set you down on the floor and looked at you in your white tights, red pinafore and white turtle neck, black Mary Jane shoes and your unruly brown curls bouncing above your shoulders with a red ribbon tied into a bow on the side, holding them out of your face. "Absolutely gorgeous Hattie Bug. Go on, finish those turkeys."

20 minutes later, a variety of paper turkeys ranging in colours and sparkle factor hung on the walls. The apartment filled up fast, the kids huddled around the kids table, admiring the nameplates you made for them.

"I like that my name is made with sparkle glue. And it has turtle stickers!" Zola said.

"I have a soccer ball cut out out for the O in my name!" Sofia exclaimed.

"I have spaghetti for the L's."  Ellis bragged to Bailey, who was making a face at the butterfly wing cut out for the B.

Soon enough, we were all sat around the table, eating our meal. There was an awkward silence before Owen spoke up.

"Haven't seen you and Kepner working together that much, Avery. Everything good?"

I nodded a little to quickly, swallowing the salad that was in my mouth. "Haven't had a lot of cases that trauma and plastics clash together. It's been busy."

Of course, my mother caught on. "Jackson, is everything alright?"

"Yeah! Yeah, we're all good here."

She turned to your mother. "April?"

She plastered a fake, peppy smile onto her face. "Oh yes, we're fine Catherine. Don't worry!"

We were both stupid for thinking you wouldn't say something. You caught onto everything.

"What about the med mal problem, mommy?"

We both froze.

"Med mal? What med mal?" Richard asked, suddenly interested.

"Who's medical malpractice is she talking about?" My mother demanded, setting down her fork."

"There's no medi-"

"April!"

"Jackson! There is no med ma-"

"The one for Arizona, grandma."

Arizona nearly spit out her turkey. "What?"

"Mommy and daddy had a big fight about me and my OI. Mommy doesn't want to sue but daddy does. He has a lawyer who's nice and gives me toffees."

Arizona sat with her mouth gaping.

"You took her to the lawyers office!?" April was enraged. "Oh my god, Jackson!"

"What the hell is going on here?" Callie added, dropping her napkin onto her lap.

"Harriet Catherine, go to your room! That is enough from you." I snapped, standing up so fast that my chair slid and tipped backwards onto the floor.

Instantly your face crumpled and the tears came flooding down your cheeks. I had never yelled at you in all of your life.

"Oh for god sakes Jackson!" Your mother mumbled, scooping you up into her arms. You curled your body toward hers, burying your face into her neck.

Guilt flooded back and I regretted every word that spilled out of my mouth.  "Hattie Bug..."

"Don't call me that! I hate you!" You squirmed away from your mother and onto the floor. "I hate you for wishing that I was never born and I hate Arizona for letting me have OI! I hate both of you!"

Before any of us could blink, you ran across the room and to the front door. Thinking quick, your mother scurried after you, but not fast enough to stop you from tripping over a table leg and crashing to the floor, your ear piercing  screams filling the apartment.

"Harriet!" April was hysterical.

And in those moments of you on the floor, you sclera's vibrant blue, leg bent the wrong way, mother cradling you and doctors surrounding your body, I believed your mother was right. That she was the better parent.