Page 49 of Jag

River turned in my arms and the four of us watched as Poppy’s eyes blinked.

“Talk to her, Dom,” River said and elbowed me.

“I don’t want to make her cry. The nurse told me not to get my feelings hurt if she cried.”

“If she does, then talk to her until she calms.”

I took a deep breath, blew it out, then leaned forward enough, so Poppy was able to see my face when I spoke to her.

“Hi, baby girl. You’re doing good. Open those brown eyes I’ve only seen in pictures.”

“Come on, Poppy. If you open those eyes all the way, I’ll buy you a motorcycle as soon as you’re able to ride,” my dad said.

“And I’ll buy you a pony, Pop,” Norman said.

“Seriously, a pony?” I laughed.

“Hey, she’ll be living with you. So I figured why not.” Norman chuckled as did River.

“Poppy, you need to wake up, sweetie girl. Bet you could get these three to promise you enough animals for your own zoo if you show them your eyes.”

“You’re not helping,” I said and shook my head. What did I know about eleven-month-old babies? But I hoped anyway that Poppy wasn’t able to understand what her grandpas were saying.

We kept talking to Poppy, and before long, her legs moved, then her arms. All the while her eyes sporadically opened and closed until finally, with a few seconds of continuous blinking, her eyes opened. I’d never forget the moment I saw my daughter’s eyes.

The four of us stopped talking and watched Poppy move those eyes to each of us. Then her mouth opened and she wailed. No lead up warning like a whine or a little fussing. Nope, it was a full on cry.

“Shush, you’re alright,” River cooed and ran her hand over Poppy’s hair. It didn’t escape me that the three men in the room froze with Poppy’s cries. I also realized that while women’s tears in general, I didn’t like. Poppy’s went way past not liking, they gutted me. No man wanted to feel useless.

The nurse came in and looked at the monitor, then checked Poppy. Before she left, she told us the doctor would be in the check her over.

That was the end of week one.

Week two at the hospitalstarted, and it was a lot of things, but dull wasn’t one of them.

There were highs and lows. I enjoyed the highs, the lows sucked ass. Being able to hold Poppy, hear her laugh, see her smile, reading her a book, playing with her favorite toys that her grandpa Norman had brought from the house, even her blowing spit bubbles, all highs. Poppy crying and her arms reaching when they took her to run a scan on her head, her barfing on me, and her poop running down my shirt because I didn’t get the diaper on tight enough, were all lows. But Poppy bawling, and none of us being able to console her because she missed her mom, there was nothing worse than that. At least I thought so until...

“Dom, I’m going to have to go home at the end of the week. The superintendent emailed me. There are three workshops next week, and the board wants me to attend. I can’t miss them,” River said when I walked out of the bathroom of the hotel room.

We’d left the hospital while the PICU went through shift change and left my dad there, it was his turn. The four of us had been rotating turns.

“You know time is going to drag by.”

“No, it won’t. Poppy will keep you busy. She’s getting more active every day. She only has the small bandage on her head, and its purpose is more so she doesn’t accidentally scratch the area before they take the stitches out. The doctor said the swelling is gone, she shows no signs that the head injury caused any motor skill damage. Even the road rash is almost healed completely. Only thing really noticeable are the bruises, and that is because they are multicolored, but they’re healing, too.”

“I know all that. I meant without you.” I glanced around the room. “You were right about the hotel room. Other than using it to shower and store our clothes we didn’t get to use it much. Oh, and two quickies. I’m going to miss the quickies,” I said as I pulled my jeans up.

“I think you can survive a week,” she said and rolled her eyes.

“Up here knows that,” I pointed to my head when River looked at me, then pointed to the front of my jeans, “but down here doesn’t.” I laughed when the towel she had wrapped around her head hit me.

We finished dressing and headed back to the hospital.

Two days later, River flew home. And week two officially ended.

She said I’d survive week three without her. I wasn’t so sure I would.

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