Page 3 of Broken

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me instead of letting me worry when the school called? You never skip class. Your attendance was 100%. That’s why Mrs. Jennings contacted me. She was worried too!”

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I-I was trying to do the right thing."

He heaves another sigh. “How much longer do you think you’ll be there? I’m not needed on base for another couple hours so I’ll come sit with you?—”

“No, it’s okay. Honestly. I’ll wait around for an update and can probably make it into class this afternoon.”

“Only you, Andy,” he grumbles. “But fine. Just this once. What am I saying? Let’s not make a habit of finding strung-out junkies on the walk to school or I’m going to have to drive you myself.”

“You could buy me a car,” I insert slyly—the Lord loves a trier.

He snorts. “Yeah, not going to happen. If you’re sure you’re all right…”

“I’m fine. Just bored.”

“I’m not sure what I did to deserve a child with such a good heart, but can we try to temper it? What with that guy you brought home for grilled cheese sandwiches last month?—”

“Daddy, he was living in his car and hadn’t showered in a week!”

“—and that soup kitchen you spend every waking moment at… Baby, you have college to think about.”

“You taught me to be charitable,” is my stout retort.

“I know, but there’s charitable and then there’s you.” He huffs. “Okay, you stay there until lunch, but I want a message from you when you’re heading to school.”

“Will do.” I check out the time on the waiting room wall. “That gives me another forty-five minutes.”

“In the future, honey,tell meso I don’t worry. I’m getting used to you bringing home strays, but that doesn’t stop me from being concerned. Be safe, you hear?”

“Sure thing, Dad. See you later.”

“Love you.”

I grin at my knees. “Love you too.”

After disconnecting the call, it takes me a few moments to realize a doctor has taken a seat beside me in the waiting room, and though his scrubs are relatively clean, they’re wrinkled.

He has a blue cap on his head, made out of the same scrub material, and it’s wonky, as if he rubbed his hand over it and it resettled at the wrong angle. Elbows on his knees, shoulders dipped, he stares at the screen.

It’s such an informal pose that my heart pounds with unease. Without saying a word, I can sense his weariness.

“H-He didn’t make it, did he?”

“No.” The doctor releases a heavy sigh. “He didn’t. He was underweight and the strain on his heart was too much for it to withstand.”

Tears prick my eyes. “That... sucks.”

“It does. Did you know the boy?”

“No. I promise. If I knew him, I’d have told the receptionist. She didn’t believe me either?—”

He raises a hand. “It’s fine if you didn’t. I just thought that was why you stuck around. Not many would for a stranger.

“The police will want to talk to you about him.”

“I don’t know anything. I’m sorry he’s gone though,” I whisper mournfully.

---