Page 152 of The Single Dad

“Can I take this part home?” he asks, pointing to the hardened green bandage. “All my friends signed it.”

“You’ll have to ask your dad,” says the doctor. Archie glances at me, and I smile, nodding.

“Yes!” He pumps his good fist, excited.

Accidents do happen, and they’re not always the end of the world.

That’s a difficult truth for me to accept. I already lost my sister to an accident, one that did feel like the end of the world. Sometimes, late at night, it still feels as though the world ended that day, and I’m just wading through the aftermath of the apocalypse.

But life goes on, and not every accident is as earth-shattering as that one. It’s difficult to accept the fact that I can’t protect Archie from everything. I wish I could.

As the doctor hands him the marked-up shell of his cast, though, and Archie beams at the signatures of his many friends, I wonder if this wasn’t all bad, after all.

“Does that feel good?” I ask him. “Some fresh air on your arm?”

“Yeah!” he exclaims. It must feel good, because he’s more animated than he’s been in the past few weeks, grinning from ear to ear.

“Glad to hear it,” says the doctor. She turns to me, all business, consulting her clipboard. “So, we’ll want to make sure we exercise the joints in their full range of movement. It’s normal for the arm to feel a little funny for a while after the cast is removed.”

“And that’ll go away with time, right?”

“Right,” she confirms. “Light exercise, taking care not to jostle the arm around too much. The bone hasn’t fully healed yet, but it’s almost there. You can come back in after another three weeks for some x-rays to make sure the healing process is going well.”

“Okay, great,” I say.

“It’s itchy,” Archie complains, scowling down at his arm.

“That’s also normal,” the doctor says with a smile. “When you get home, soak it in some warm water to help the dry skin. You also might want to get some lotion for that arm.”

“We’ll stop by the drug store and pick some up on the way home,” I tell Archie, who nods, scratching uncomfortably at his forearm.

As we leave the doctor’s office, Archie practically skips beside me, clearly delighted.

“Whoa, bud,” I say. “You sure are energetic today.”

“I got my cast off!” Archie exclaims.

“It’s pretty exciting. Soon enough you’ll be able to run around with your friends again. Are you excited?”

“Yeah!” He grins up at me. “And now Riley can come back, right?”

I stop dead in my tracks, ten feet in front of the hospital’s sliding doors. “What?”

“Now that I’m better, Riley can come back to the house,” Archie explains, as if it’s obvious. “That’s why she left, right?”

“Oh, Archie… no,” I say, shaking my head. His face falls, and I steer him over to the waiting room chairs, sitting him down. “No, buddy. Did you think that Riley left because you got hurt?”

Silently, Archie nods, his eyes huge and round.

“That’s not what happened,” I say, feeling a little nauseous. “Not at all.”

“But I’m better now,” he protests. “So Riley can come back.”

“It’s not your fault that Riley left,” I explain gently, laying a hand on his shoulder. “You’re not the reason Riley left, and you didn’t do anything wrong, okay?”

Archie sniffles a little, pouting. “But I don’t understand. Why did Riley leave?”

“It’s really complicated,” I sigh. I’ve been asking myself that question repeatedly, late at night, in a slightly different arrangement: Why did I force her out?

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