[untitled]

Nins and Peedles
Julian just sits. To his right, a younger brother, to his right, the eldest sibling, a girl. Dad walks solemnly, carrying his gun collection. No one dare look at him or each other as Julian’s hot breaths wander up and condense on his eyelids. The sun bounces glances off the baseball dents in the side of the suburban as Dad goes in and the family lets go.
Booties, caps, gowns, and gloves. There’s a settled beeping and murmuring churn; she knows this place, the creative names, the lame ones, a room drenched in hues of newborns and nurses.
Dad gets back in and they head down Vandament. To jostle the quiet he turns on the radio. “Today is gonna be the day that they’re gonna throw it back to you,” it chimes as Dad slaps the knob and sends it to a different station. “At least today her name is what it means.”
They turn onto Holly and then a right, and then a slight left, and then a parking space. As they head in the store everyone notices. How could you miss a gang of eight swollen eyes? They buy a week’s worth of beans and Ramen noodles and head out. Gaze to the street, Julian counts the steps in each square of sidewalk. They’re mostly a 1-2-3 pattern.
Lying in a cloud of chords, tiny whimpers collect on the glass in the shape of a circle, and meander to the edges.
“I am one with the Yuletide, know what I mean?” Julian knows this line. He knows every line. Collectively, he, Brother, and Sis had seen Ernest Saves Christmas over fifty times so far this summer. They were treated like VIP’s. They even had their own movie room. Not to say that it was one fit for a king, but for kids a 24 inch screen was wide enough. They would grab cups out of the cabinets and sneak across the hall to get free drinks from the nurse’s lounge. However, this was highly illegal and great care was to be taken. Julian would perform snapneck-peek-across-corner maneuvers while Sis stayed lookout from farther down by the elevators. Brother, being the youngest of the three was typically the sacrificial lamb for such a mission. Plus, if caught sympathy would always override rules and regulations, allowing him to successfully eye-bat his way to a coke. Staff were really the only ones to watch for, as nearly all the doctors and nurses knew them by name; however, only through situation…and they really didn’t care about the soda.
In the lobby Grandpa writes a check. Knowing the kids have spent the majority of the summer in a waiting room burns his nerves. Puzzles, Beanie Babies, and a paper football set round out his purchases. Behind the cashier is a wall of fish; a row of rounded tanks above a row of square ones, each with three or four fish, the simple kinds that you never expect to last long.
“Did the kids eat?” Mom asks. “Yeah we got groceries.” Mom has been here since 7am. It’s midsummer so she let the children sleep in while she drove up. Sis is old enough to fend for herself and keep her siblings from accidental mortality such as a hockey puck to the throat. Dad gets home at 5:11 every day, feeds them dinner, and meets Mom. Julian usually wakes up at about noon and saunters out of his room. The house faces west and after noon the sun shines through the peephole and burns a rainbow onto the wall outside Julian’s room. He sometimes stops as he exits the room and lets the rainbow laser penetrate the back of his hand, the spot of skin stretching between the thumb and index. Sometimes he puts his face close to the wall and sees if he can feel the circle on the back of his head. Sometimes turns around and lets the sun’s laser scope land directly between his eyes. “How?”
“What’s its name?” “Sonny. You can tell he’s a little nervous about leaving. He just floats and bobs, you can almost imagine that he has his fins crossed and neck tilted…see how he glides.”
Brother and Sis slouch in opposite seats and toss a Beanie Baby duck back and forth. Grandpa got the paper football set as much for Dad as he did for the kids. The sun peeks in through the large blue-green panes as Julian closes his eyes, and satisfied, lays down, rays outstretched with curled ends and an orange bulb resting on bent waves.
Dad walks out and clears his throat, seven more steps to the bathroom. He reaches up and scratches his left eye and with his right hand twists the knob. Often times he called the bathroom his office, but today it was more. He picked the single toilet bathroom on purpose. He leaves the seat and cover down and flips off the light.
Grandpa survives the goodbyes and steps outside. Squinting, his eyes catch the horizon and he tightens his grip on the twisted top of the Ziplock bag. Sonny dives his face into the corner.
The kids are waiting with the Wait in the waiting room. The Wait is growing old. It steps out of the hall closet and peaks a head out. Long, whispy hairs arch out from 8 inch fingers that wrap around a grey doorframe. It crouches and crawls, head swaying as it mouths counts. It reaches the strange blue of the chair, and with a touch turns it to ash. As it leans in and whispers to Julian, the crests of its lips pinned to the plump lobe of his ear, the room disappears and only the children and sun remain.
Mom has her own room and the nurse’s hands meet, closing the curtains. Mom doesn’t lay back, she hunches over and repeats the name Eloisa between soft almost-kisses.
There are two dispensers, each holding a roll of toilet paper. There are three brand new rolls behind him and a blue bandana wrapped around his head. Yet, Dad digs into his hands, palms over his eyes as his fingers flip up the blue on his brow. They come down and the bandana relaxes, his palms slide down his cheeks and leave streaks of glistening silver. The whites of his eyes disappear in the dark. The knob turns to the left, the right, and back to the left.
Heavy grey shoes with Velcro straps sink into mid-shin mud. Grandpa trips and falls to the ground. His elbows hit first as his hands land just under his chin. With his right hand he pushes his horn-rimmed glasses back up his face and smudges a line of sludge across the bridge of his nose. He opens his left hand and checks on Sonny.
Mom reaches out her cupped hands, Eloisa fitting more than comfortably in between. She lays down the pink bundle and with her thumb and index finger opens the blanket and traces her puffy cheeks.
Julian yanks and pulls. His fists are burnt bright and white along the edges. He yanks and twists, pushes and pulls. Mom tackles him and shakes his clenched fists till they let go.
Crickets crackle and spit under Grandpa’s knees. Twigs swipe and joust, and he finally lays down reaching out just far enough.
Dad comes out with puffed eyes and matted hair. Now mom is crying and holding Julian’s head tightly in one bent arm with a fistful of wrists in the other. Dad gathers Brother and Sis and they stand in a quiet mess in the elevator. Dad wraps the bandana around Julian’s head to hide the ripped hair and they walk to the car, all the while Dad thankful that he was still as strong as ever to his son, and that the worried doorknob-twister was only a janitor. He
Grandpa rolls on his left side and reaches with his right hand.
Dad reaches in the suburban and the kids stand while Mom settles in the front. Dad crawls backward on bent knees and emerges with a diaper bag, carseat, and video camera. His face is flushed and the diaper bag slides off his shoulder and the strap lands on his wrist, the wrist of the hand carrying the video camera. He swings the back door of the suburban open and in one heave tosses both the camera and bag in, relieving his arm from duty. He tosses the carseat in and slams the door, wiping his forehead, and he wishes he had his bandana.
Grandpa snaps open the lining of the back and Sonny flops out and jettisons toward the northern part of the creek.
Julian still stands. He stands as Brother gets in the suburban. He stands as Sis gets in the suburban, and he stands as Dad gets in the suburban. Julian curtsies and places the golden duck on the ground outside the hospital entrance. He gets in the suburban and Dad turns on the radio. No one dares to speak as Julian sits in the green, baseball-dented suburban and sips his stolen soda.