Page 56 of Baby for Dr. Damaged

Or rather, it was Jay’s.

The medication worked, and we were able to treat him early enough in the onset of Margur’s disease that he never got to the point that the disease would progress and follow him into childhood or adulthood. One hundred percent cured.

Jackson had been hoping to skip the pills and use injections, but everything had been too tied up in legal limbo for that to happen. Still, the pills have worked amazingly well. And they went down easy enough crushed up in spoonfuls of pudding.

Even now, thinking about it makes me giddy. I hurry back out to where Bonnie, Jay, and Jackson are waiting for me.

Jackson asks, “Got it?”

“Got it,” I respond, and we hurry to the car and load up.

The awards ceremony is being held at a conference center not too far away from Mercy General. The entire research team is going to be honored—myself included. I’m giddy over it too.

We’ve managed to do something amazing, helping so many people get the medication that they need now!

Bonnie spends the drive telling us all about her upcoming piano recital—it's the first one that she’s putting on, and she’s thrilled—and before I know it, we’re pulling into the parking lot and heading to the front entrance.

A lot of the others are already there. I catch sight of Cara’s car, and Kurt’s luxury Mustang, too, as we make our way to the large building. The conference center is bright and well-lit in front of us. A banner has been set up on the side, marking it as the site for the Awards Banquet for Margur’s Relief.

Everyone that worked on the cure is going to come up on stage and receive their award. A lot of us have brought friends and family to come and see us. I know that Cara’s twin sister, Ashley, is flying in from Florida to watch it. I don’t know about Kurt, but I think it’s less of a big deal for him.

He’s been a doctor for a long time, and I doubt this is the first time that he’s been up on stage.

My family has come to watch the proceedings as well. The sight of Harris standing there, without a wheelchair, is still almost enough to bring tears to my eyes. His muscles aren’t very strong yet so he’s using forearm crutches.

But he’s standing.

“Hey,” Harris says, grinning. “Look, we’re matching!”

He’s talking to Jay. My younger brother is wearing the same sort of shirt; a cotton tee shirt with the print of a tuxedo on top. At least he put a nice blazer on too.

“Really?” I joke. “You couldn’t have put on something a little more fancy?”

“I wanted to make sure that Jay didn’t feel left out,” Harris protests.

Mom says, “I tried to get him to wear a suit.”

“It’s summer,” Harris points out. “It’s way too hot for a suit.”

“Jackson is wearing one,” says Mom, nodding at my husband. “It fits you well, by the way.”

“Thank you.” Jackson fusses with the hem of his left jacket sleeve. “I think that Harris has the right idea if we’re being honest. I would have rather worn one of those.”

Harris grins like he’s the one being given the award. “See? I made the right choice.”

Mom scolds, “Don’t encourage him!”

“It’s warm out. The jackets are…”

I cut Jackson off, “The jackets are important! They make the whole look. And you look handsome in it, too.”

“You look amazing,” Dad agrees. He shakes Jackson’s hand and then leans down to coo at Jay. “And look at you, my big man. You are looking more and more like your dad.”

Jackson and my dad have almost totally worked things out. They don’t talk as often as they used to, but Dad puts on a good front. He wants me to be happy, and he knows that Jackson treats me well. So he makes an effort to get along at group gatherings or events like this.

I asked Jackson once if it upset him, but he just said, “I’m a father too. I’m sure one day, I’ll feel the same way about a boy that Bonnie brings home.”

Personally, I think that the snubbing hurts more than he lets on… But time has a way of healing all wounds, and each time they get together, my dad is a little more open to conversations, and a little less sharp in his responses.

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