Mommy Mouse (sequel to City Mouse)

Chapter 28: Decisions

Leo was released from the hospital the following morning, and Mouse and Henry took him home. He was still groggy from the medication, and spent the cab ride home drowsing in Henry's arms.

Henry was in turmoil. First and foremost, the knowledge that Leo was hurt, and could have been hurt much worse, ate away at him. Even though Leo had only been in his life for five short years, Henry couldn't remember what it was like not to be his father. His years in college, getting established as a photographer, his meteoric rise in his profession, even knowing his first wife, all of those things paled in comparison to being parent to this marvelous little boy.

Knowing that this child of his heart, if not of his flesh, was injured, was in pain, was awful. Knowing that he'd been driven to his dangerous behavior because he was afraid of being a burden was even worse than that.

Henry held Leo as the taxi navigated lower Manhattan, trying to absorb the bumps and bounces from the potholes in the streets. Mouse sat next to him, exhausted and quiet. She seemed to know how turbulent his insides were.

"Henry, he's okay, he's going to be fine," she assured him.

Henry just nodded.

After they got up to their apartment, he laid Leo down in their bed, so he could sleep off the rest of his anesthesia, and Henry and Mouse put clean sheets on Leo's bed and cleaned up the mess in the hall. Henry took the precaution of drilling holes in the wall so he could attach the shelves this time. They were no longer free floating, and would not come down again.

When he was finished, he joined his wife in the family room. She'd made coffee for him, and had tea for herself. It was nearly ten A.M.

"You know, I was thinking, we should probably all get blood work, so we know our type and all that," he said, taking a grateful sip of his coffee. "If Leo were to get in an accident where he needed a transfusion or whatever, I wouldn't want to give him mine if we're not compatible or whatever." He looked at Mouse for her opinion.

Mouse sighed. "Henry, they check that stuff beforehand, they don't just blindly go around transfusing people with non-compatible blood."

"Oh." Henry sat back, taking a deep breath. "That's good to know. I mean, considering the fact that Leo's, you know, not--not--" He couldn't continue, and set his cup down so he could cover his face with his hands.

He felt Mouse scooting closer on the couch, and leaned into her without uncovering his eyes. He took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Jesus, Mouse, he could've died," Henry said, finally giving voice to his fear. "One of those shelves could've hit his head just a little harder, and he could've died. Or one could've landed on his stomach and caused internal injuries and bleeding, I mean--"

"Shh, nothing like that happened," Mouse soothed, smoothing his hair. "Kids are so resilient, you know? When I think of the things I did when I was little, the things my brothers did to me, I mean, it's a miracle I survived."

Henry put a hand on Mouse's belly, where his daughter was growing, the slight rise in her flesh where his child lived. "I don't know what I would do anything happened to someone I loved again," he admitted. "When Josie died, it was so awful, the amount of pain she was in, the fact that our baby died with her--"

"I know, I know, and I can't imagine what that was like," Mouse agreed, her voice quiet. "But we're here now, the bean and me, and Leo, we're with you, we are."

"But Leo's not my child!" Henry burst out. "I don't know whose he is! And there's no one I can even ask. But there are so many questions. Should I try to find out what happened? Should I be worried that someone's going to come and try to take him away from me? Does he have other parents out there who are missing him?" He lifted tortured eyes to his wife. "What if he has another accident and does need a transfusion? Or an organ transplant? What if he gets cancer or something else awful like that? Mouse? And needs a bone marrow transplant?