Page 15 of Pucking Strong

He jolts at my sudden use of English and pats down his pockets before pulling out his passport. “Yeah, here you go.”

“Thank you,” the nurse says in English. After a moment of typing, she gives it back. Then she says at me in Swedish, “Karolina Karlsson is on the third floor, room 312. Please check in at the nurse’s station before entering her room.”

Teddy stays at my side as I lead the way over to the elevator bank. We ride silently up to the third floor, and my heart begins to race faster. I still don’t know if Karolina’s been told that her mother is dead. I don’t know the full extent of her injuries either. Fractured ulna, the doctor said. It was cracked but not misaligned. She’ll need to wear a cast on her arm for four to six weeks. Three cracked ribs, hairline only. The most worrisome injury is the fractures to her leg. They required surgery yesterday. Oblique displacement, it’s called. The surgery realigned the bones, and they secured it all with a metal plate and screws. She’ll have to wear a cast on the leg for up to eight weeks and not bear weight on it as it heals.

A broken armanda broken leg.

And no mother.

My poor, sweet little lamb.

The elevator slows, and the doors open with a softping. I just stare at the brightly colored flyers on the wall opposite.

“Come on,” says Teddy, gently guiding me out. “You can do this.”

Following the signs, we find the pediatric trauma center. A tall nurse wearing clear-framed glasses stands from the station desk as we approach. “Are you Mr. Karlsson?”

“I am.”

He smiles. “The reception desk alerted us that you were on the way. Karolina will be so pleased to see you. She’s been asking for you.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “She’s awake?”

“Not at the moment. We gave her some medication for pain management about thirty minutes ago. It tends to make children drowsy. But you’re welcome to go in and sit with her, even if she’s asleep.”

Teddy glances between us, trying to make sense of our Swedish.

“Thank you,” I say in English.

“We alerted her doctor that you’re here,” he adds, switching to English. “She’s with patients now, but she said she can stop by and speak to you in about an hour.”

I thank the nurse again and lead the way down the hall. The walls here are so colorful. A muralist painted bright scenes of forest animals on parade. They wear party hats and carry balloons. The scene is so at odds with the somber feeling in the air. From behind closed doors, machines hum, providing life-saving support to other injured children.

The door to room 312 is open a crack. From within, I hear the beep and whir of more machines. Holding my breath, I push the door open wider. The only light comes from the large window. A TV mounted in the corner plays an old episode ofBamse, volume on mute.

I step fully inside the room. A large hospital bed takes up most of the space. Karolina lies asleep in the middle of the white sheets. With her eyes closed, her lips turned down in a pout, she looks like a sad little doll. Her blonde hair splays across the pillow.

Christ, she looks so small. I can see now the full extent of her injuries. The bruising around her left eye looks raised and purple. The side of her face is covered in scratches from the shattered glass. They still have her in a neck brace too. Her left arm is in a brace from hand to elbow. And her skinny leg sticks out from her blankets, freshly bandaged from knee to ankle. All around the bed, wires connect her to machines, the source of the soft beeping.

My eyes lock on the fuzzy pink sock on her foot. That’s when I break. “Oh, Christ—” I catch the words, along with my sob.Covering my mouth with my hand, I turn away, tears burning in my eyes. I try to push past Teddy, but he grabs me by the shoulders.

“Hey—no. Come on, man, you have to stay.”

“I can’t,” I say on a gasping breath. “Can’t see her like this—”

“You have to. Hey—Karlsson, she’s alive.”

I shake my head, overcome with grief and fear. I can’t lose her too. I won’t survive it. God help me, I can’t—

“Look at me.” He cups my face. “Karlsson,lookat me.”

I lift my gaze. Teddy’s expression is so calm. Despite all the times I thought he was meek and nervous, in this moment, he’s in control. His eyes flash as he holds fast to me. They’re green only at the edges, shifting to an almost golden brown at the center.

“She’s alive,” he assures me. “Say it.”

“She’s alive.”

He nods. “That’s good. Just take a breath and slow down. Say it again.”

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