Fix My Feet When They're Stumblin'

Chapter 29

    The trills and chirrups of cheerful songbirds heralded the arrival of Ronnie and his bandmates and Tana and the kids at the hospital the next morning. As they made their way through the halls and passed Brandon's room, they met Mandy just as she emerged from the darkened room, closing the door behind her and smiling to herself.

    "Oh, perfect timing, we just finished up a few minutes ago! Mr. Vannucci, he's asking to see you!"

    Before Ronnie could respond, his friend's muffled voice could be heard from within, shaky as usual, but clearly in good spirits: "M-Mandy, is that Ronnie? Hi, Ron! I love you!"

    Ronnie snorted, biting back a smile. "Hi, Bran, I love you too," he called back, grinning even more broadly at the sound of his best friend's beloved mousy giggle while Brandon's children stifled their own giggles behind him. "Can I...?" he asked, gesturing to the door.

    "Oh, of course! He's in a really good mood right now, if you can't tell!" The nurse opened the door once more and ushered him inside, following behind him to take her usual place and supervise.

    A partially eaten plate of scrambled eggs lay on the bed tray against the wall and Ronnie beamed at the sight as he sat at his friend's bedside. "Hey, breakfast two days in a row, Brandon, look at you - and your face! You shaved!" he exclaimed, rubbing his own beard in sympathy for the lost facial hair.

    Brandon smiled ruefully, touching his face - the right side bore several small, fresh nicks and cuts among the fading bruises. "N-not really, I tried. I had t-to ask the - the...um...I had to ask the...oh, Mandy, w-what was he?"

    "The occupational therapist, Mr. Flowers," the nurse supplied helpfully, and Ronnie grinned at the obvious relief that crossed Brandon's face as she filled in the blank.

    "Th-thank you, the th-therapist. I had to...I had to ask him...ask him to help, I w-wasn't doing a g-good job," he said, with a touch of sadness as he regarded his trembling hand resting on the grey blanket.

    "Well, I think you did a great job, B. Practice makes perfect, right? You're good at that."

    Brandon smiled gratefully at Ronnie, who had a sudden thought and laughed out loud - "Brandon, do you want me to bring in your bag of hair from your hotel room so you can keep the tradition alive?"

    His friend stared at him, wide-eyed for a moment, and Ronnie wondered briefly if he had forgotten about the odd ritual he had maintained for over a decade - until suddenly he burst out in an uncontrolled, helpless fit of laughter, his hand pressing firmly against his chest.

    "Mandy - n-n-no, I - I don't think Mandy would - s-she w-wouldn't like that," he gasped between his giggles, the most precious, ridiculous, wonderful sound to ever grace Ronnie's ears.

    "Awww, Mandy, you wouldn't keep him from his longest-running hobby, would you?" Ronnie wheedled, winking at the nurse who looked absolutely baffled as she watched them.

    "Uh, I mean...hobbies are wonderful, of course, but...um, a bag of hair? Did I hear that right?"

    "Oh yeah! It's horrific, isn't it, Brandon?"

    Brandon just shook his head, finally regaining control of himself. "I - don't - d-don't m-m-make me laugh, Ron, it hurts," he gasped, rolling his shoulder and clutching his chest, his smile fading, little lines of pain replacing the crinkles of laughter around his eyes.

    Ronnie sobered immediately, guilt settling heavy in his gut like a lead balloon. "Oh, Bran, of course, I'm sorry - your ribs! I'm sorry, I'm so stupid!"