Fix My Feet When They're Stumblin'

Chapter 42

     A soft knock on the door caught Brandon's attention, and he looked up as Mandy slipped inside, bearing a tray of strawberry pancakes in her hands. Ohhhhh!

     "Special delivery, Mr. Flowers," she grinned. "Ryan insisted, said you did really well this morning! That's wonderful!"

     Brandon beamed back at the nurse as she placed the pancakes on the bedside tray and brought it over to him. "I d-didn't think he w-would - he would r-really ask for the - th-the - um...oh...these," he said, smiling at the little chunks of bright red strawberries baked into the pair of pancakes, a light drizzle of syrup glistening on top.

     "Oh, Ryan takes patient rewards very seriously," she giggled, sweeping loose auburn hairs that had escaped her braid out of her face and grinning brightly at him. "He probably threatened the chefs for you and brought them the strawberries himself."

     Brandon smiled at the thought.

     "I stole a real fork from the staff break room for you, because I know how hard it is to try to cut things with a plastic fork," she added, nodding to the gleaming metal fork next to the pancakes. "Pancakes might be soft enough for you to cut them into pieces yourself, if you want to give it a shot - but please, ask me for help if you need it, alright?"

     Brandon nodded absently as he reached for the fork, a small frown of concentration taking over his face. Mandy sat quietly by the window, trying her best not to distract her patient, and watched as he struggled to pick up the fork, falling just shy of touching it several times. Finally, he grasped his fork firmly, a ghostly smile lifting his lips - the first battle had been won - and sat still, looking at his breakfast.

     His hand hovered near the pancakes for nearly a minute, his stomach tying itself in knots of anxiety. With a soft sigh, he slowly lowered the fork back to the tray, his hand shaking violently. Come on, this is easy. He bit his lip, staring at the pancakes until they blurred before his eyes, erased by emerging tears.

     "Give it a try, Brandon," Mandy whispered gently from the window. "It will be alright."

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Brandon fumbled for the fork again and brought it to rest on the top of the short stack. Very carefully, Brandon tried to cut part of the pancake, but his hand slipped as he cut it free from the rest, and the bite jumped over the edge of the plate, landing on the plastic tray below.

     "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm s-sorry," he cried, hot tears slipping down his cheeks as he stared at the rogue pancake. "I c-can't...I can't..."

     Mandy was there at once, swooping up the sticky mess with a wipe and crouching beside him. "Hey, it's okay, Brandon. It's okay. It's no big deal, honey."

     He dropped the fork on the tray, flinching at the clatter it made as the metal hit the hard plastic below. I can't even cut a fucking pancake. Pathetic. Shame filled his heart, weighing it down inside his chest, and Brandon covered his face, sobbing into his hand. Mandy's voice continued for a while, whispering soothing nothings and then faded away. Soon, Ronnie's voice echoed in his ears - a product of his broken brain, mocking him, telling him everything was okay - stop it stop it stop it - get out - leave me alone - as he crumpled into himself, and suddenly very real, very strong arms enveloped him, hugging him tightly.

     "Bran, it's okay."

     ...wait. What...? He opened his eyes, blinking through the tears at a familiar orange and red-patterned Hawaiian shirt, and then his tears started anew, soaking the fiery colors.

     "No, it's n-not!" he sobbed, digging his fingers into Ronnie's shirt desperately, like a drowning man clutching a life preserver in turbulent seas. "It's not o-okay. Not...I c-can't do anything, Ron, I can't...I c-can't..."