Stella and the Boxer

Chapter 29

I’ve only had to sit in an ER waiting room once in my eighteen years.

It was Christmas Eve, and one of my younger cousins had tried walking down the stairs in my grandmother’s house by herself. She was only three and a half, and she thought that she was going to miss Santa Claus if she didn’t hurry home. I was nine at the time, and while we waited, though we knew she would be alright, (it was only a sprained ankle and a serious bump to the head) I remember looking up at my grandmother and saying, “Do you think time always moves at the same speed? Like, when you’re listening to a really good song in the car – it goes by so fast. When something bad happens though, everything seems to last too long.”

We know now that, like my cousin, Charlie will be okay. Mark, Casey, Mason and I can sit contently in the waiting room, until we’re able to see him again. We’re lucky.

Still, I feel as though I’ve spent weeks in this uncomfortable chair, and it seems impossible that I touched him only hours ago.

After my wistful remark, my grandma smiled down at me, her wiser grey eyes meeting mine – young and curious – and she said, “I’ve noticed that, too. I think we’re supposed to use the added time to be thankful for the good moments, during the bad.”

I decide to take her advice. I spend as much time as possible being thankful for every good moment that Charlie and I have spent together – which has been nearly all of them. Then, in an attempt to bargain with time, I think about all of the good things we could do together, if we’re given the chance.

“Do you feel better now, Stella?” Mason asks with a smile as he takes his seat next to me, after leaving to find the restroom.

“I do,” I smile, “I’m sorry for crying so much on the way here, that’s really embarrassing,” I look between Casey and Mason as I speak. Mark hadn’t witnessed my episode, since he’d ridden in the ambulance with Charlie.

Mason just smiles up at me, and Casey shakes her head, regretfully, “We were all worried. You didn’t overreact.”

Mark has been quiet, sitting away from the three of us. When we’d first arrived, he’d kept his face buried in his hands for so long that I truly thought he was asleep.

He finally lifts up from his chair and motions to Casey to follow him. I assume he has a lot to explain, and is probably painfully remorseful – Charlie is like a son to him. As they walk off, down the hall, Mason and I are left alone, and I somehow feel relief.

“I suppose I should be asking if you’re okay, not the other way around. It was you who called the police, right? You’re very brave.”

“I’m not brave at all,” Mason bites his lips and kicks his feet, which only touch the ground by his toes, “It was me who called Charlie, too. Please don’t be mad,” He looks up at me with troubled eyes, welling with tears, “I’m sorry, I was just scared and I didn’t know how long the police would be. I knew Charlie would be fast and –“

“It’s okay,” I say, shaking my head and furrowing my brow. I hug Mason suddenly, allowing him to cry into my shoulder. It takes me a moment to realize that he’s apologizing because he thinks I’ll blame him for Charlie’s injury.

“He’s glad you called. I’m glad you called. None of this is your fault at all.”

He pulls away after a moment so he can speak, wiping his eyes as he collects his voice.

“I think they would’ve hurt my dad really bad, if Charlie hadn’t been there so fast. I could hear everything. My mom kept trying to cover my ears, but I could still hear.”