Bear Hugs

For You

Day Six: Hospital

Whenever he sees his hands, they become his father's hands: blotchy pink, callused, with round, short fingers, and wide nails. On his wrist, the male his mother gave him. On his wrist, the mole his mother gave him. Sometimes he fantasizes about sloughing it off like a shovel. He imagines that by the time he's 40, it'll larger, maybe misshapen.

Kenny held these hands, kissed these wrists, saying "Please, please. I need you to do this for me..."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can."

After their kiss- brief and still-motion, Kenny backed away. Not paying attention, he slipped in the mud, falling and twisting his ankle. Kyle went to help them up, but Kenny couldn't stand on his own.

They went to the nearest urgent care, Kenny propped up on the skateboard, one leg raised like a flamingo.

The scent of sanitizer hit them, and Kyle was transported back to his mother's hospital room, the ties of her hospital gown undone around her collarbone, her mouth, Kyle's mouth, a sallow frown.

Doctor Didion told the boys that Kenny only had a sprained ankle and needed to keep off of it for a few days.

"There's no one else that can do it and there's another GrizzFest on Monday," he pleaded from the wheelchair while they waited for another nurse.

"What about that girl that's always with you?"

"Who, Maddie? She's in Ohio right now, otherwise, she would."

"But I was never trained for it..."

"It's not that hard. You never take your eyes off me when I'm in it, so I know you know what to do."

"I stare because I'm terrified."

"You were terrified when you kissed me an hour ago but you still did it."

Kyle's face burned. He couldn't help but think of how much easier it would have been if he had stayed inside today. Kenny wouldn't have been hurt, and he wouldn't be in this anxiety-inducing situation. But he looked down at Kenny's hands clasping his own. "Fine. I'll do it. For you."