Page 87 of The Understatement of the Year

Beside me, Hartley lifted an eyebrow.

“My baby has a concussion, and it’s all your fault.” Mrs. Graham reached the landing and launched herself at me, throwing her arms around me in a hug.

Awkwardly, I hugged her back. “I didn’t trip him. You should really take it out on that bruiser at Central Mass.”

“Hockey, John. He never mentioned playing hockey until you wanted to try out in the eighth grade.”

Over her shoulder, I took another involuntary look at Hartley. He was now staring at the two of us with undisguised curiosity. “Sorry about that,” I stammered. “He wasn’t supposed to get his bell rung.”

“Oh, I don’t really mean it,” she said, releasing me. “Is he okay? I was worried enough to get on a plane at seven this morning.”

“He’ll be okay. You can see for yourself in a minute.” I jerked my thumb toward the bathroom door, where the sound of the shower had ceased. Then, remembering all the paperwork from the hospital, I opened the door to Graham’s dorm room and grabbed my duffel off the floor. From inside, I pulled the packet of instructions. “Here’s what they sent for… you to read.”

I stopped myself just in time from putting “me” in that sentence.

“Thank you, honey.” Mrs Graham took the papers from me and began to flip through them, right there on the landing.

My sleep-deprived brain was just figuring out that I was handing Graham over to his mother, the same way I’d handed over the paperwork.

Graham opened the bathroom door then, wearing a towel around his waist. “Mom,” he said, shock in his voice.

She hug-tackled him. “Sweetie, I was so worried.”

“I’m all wet. Jeez. Everybody give me a minute, okay?” Graham disappeared into his bedroom, glowering all the way.

“I’m going to baby him,” she announced. “He’s just going to have to put up with it.”

Hartley smiled at her. “Good luck with that.”

That’s when Bella came charging up the stairs, too. “Oh, Mrs. Graham!”

“Bella, sweetie!” They hugged, and I noticed just how crowded it had become here outside Graham’s room.

Bella held up a little white bag. “I filled his prescription. And the pharmacist said not to take these on an empty stomach. So I bought him a sandwich at the deli.”

“Oh honey, thank you! Here I was practically flapping my arms to come here to take care of him, and the three of you have already done it.” Mrs. Graham rapped a knuckle on the room door. “Michael, can we come in yet?”

“Yeah,” came Graham’s reluctant voice from inside the room. The door opened, and he stood there, filling the space, a freaked-out look on his face.

I could see how this would play out. It wasn’t going to be me who sat down beside Graham, asking him whether or not he wanted to take something for the pain. It wasn’t going to be me who read the proper dose off the medicine bottle.

Ten minutes ago, I’d assumed that Graham and I would spend the rest of the day napping on his bed, so that I could keep an eye on him. But that wasn’t going to happen. I wasn’t going to take care of him. Or even tell him how much I wanted him to feel better.

That was not allowed.

Mrs. Graham put her hands on her son’s clean T-shirt, nudging him aside to enter the room. And Bella followed her.

That left Hartley and I in the hallway, with a nervous Graham practically blocking the way into his room. His wishes could not have been any plainer even if he’d held up a sign reading:You Are Dismissed.

Message received.

I shouldered my duffel bag. “Feel better,” I said lamely.

His answer was gruff. “Thanks.”

With out another word, I turned around and began to trudge down the stairs. Exhaustion made my legs feel heavy. And when I pushed the entryway door open at the bottom of the stairs, the damp March air gave me a shiver. I stopped to zip up my jacket.

“Hey, Rikker.”