Fragile

Jackson

I rolled off to the edge of the bed in the on call room and laid my head back on the pillow. A million thoughts raced through my head, but the main one was: what the hell did we just do? April sighed heavily beside me, slowly sitting up and wrapping the blanket around her body tightly. She searched for her clothes that were scattered all over the floor and pulled them on hastily.

"April-" I was cut off by her harsh tone.

"No."

She stormed out of the room before I could even blink. I yanked my clothing on and scurried after her without bothering to look around to see if anyone saw us coming out of the room, not even 30 seconds apart from each other. I raced after April, only to nearly collide with her. She was standing at the doorway of your PICU room, staring in disbelief. I followed her gaze to see you smiling proudly whilst trying to balance a plastic spoon on your nose. My eyes shifted over to another girl, perhaps 6 years of age, sitting by your bedside attempting the same ridiculous task.

"Spoons are most commonly used for eating when the food is liquid-based or small." You declared, focusing so hard your eyes crossed.

"Harriet, who's your friend?" April asked you, stepping completely into the room. She smiled at your useless facts and effort to keep the spoon atop your nose.

"I'm Olive." The girl said quietly, careful not to let it drop. This was serious business for a couple of kindergarteners, after all.

I took a good look at Olive. She was fair skinned with honey coloured curls and vibrant green eyes. Her cheeks were rosy pink and her two front teeth were missing. She almost appeared doll like; something you'd see in the collectibles aisle at the thrifting shop. Her features were unrealistic, yet unbelievably gorgeous at the same time. A man with the same hair and a woman with green eyes bustled into the room, frantic. There was no mistaking them; they were her parents.

"Olive, darling! There you are! You simply must stop running away from your room and stay put!" The mothers accent was unmistakably British.

"Oh, mummy! It gets terribly boring in there! Besides, Harriet is much more fun than an abundance of needles!" I hadn't realized she was British, and that she was incredibly mature for her age.

The mother realized we were in the room. She fumbled with her purse, flushing a deep red. "I'm ever so sorry! I didn't even see you, just those ringlet curls and realized she was in here!"

April cut her off. "Don't worry! April Kepner." She extended her hand. "And this is my daughter, Harriet. I presume Olive is yours?"

The mother laughed lightly. "Yes, I'm afraid so, the cheeky little devil. She's always finding a way to get into trouble. I'm Louise O'Connor and this is my husband, Nate. Now, we'll be on our way.."

"No rush! It looks like they've hit it off seemingly well. And besides, Harriet could use a friend. She's in the hospital quite a lot, not around many kids her age." April smiled so brightly my heart almost burst. God, I missed her.

"Do you mind me asking what she has? Olive has neuroblastoma. We were visiting family when she got diagnosed. She was so ill that we couldn't fly home, so we've been living here and at my sisters house while she's being treated."

My heart ached for this poor girl. I would never do good in Peds. Too many sad, helpless, sick children. You giggled when your spoon fell off and scrambled to pick it back up before your newly acquired friend noticed.

"Harriet has stage III Osteogenesis Imperfecta. Very brittle bones; sneezing could break one. She's in here for a pretty bad break this time."

"Oh, the poor darling!" The mother moaned, clutching her husbands hand. "How does she handle the treatments? All of this is new to our Olive, she doesn't particularly enjoy being pinned down to the bed every time they need to stick her with an IV."

"We usually distract her if the break is painful enough that it bothers her." I spoke up, looking at Louise. "Read books or play little guessing games. If it's nothing too big, she'll usually sit quietly until the whole process is over. But if it's bad like this one, she'll be put out until they're done assessing and casting. Jackson Avery, by the way. Harriet's dad."

She smiled, but it quickly vanished as her eyes narrowed at me. "Jackson Avery? The one suing the doctor for medical malpractice? How awful."

I let out a sigh, completely deflated. "Yes. That's me."

Louise turned around on her heels. "Olive darling, let's get going. We've got to let your friend rest up now."

Olive let the spoon fall to her lap. "Can I come back tomorrow?"

"Let's see how you feel after chemotherapy. Let's pop down to the cafeteria and get some Thanksgiving dinner, cucumber. Come now." Nate spoke up; more like mumbling into his vest.

"I'll draw you a picture for tomorrow Olive," you declared, waving bye-bye as she was practically dragged out of the room, her frail arms in a tangle with her parents.

And just like that, the room was quiet and empty again. The familiar beep of the monitors filled the eerie silence. You sat quietly, staring at the hallway. April went to the front desk. I had ruined another thing.