Page 64 of Poetry By Dead Men
"Woah, cheap move. We'll have to get her back later, right Mikey?" Bobby says conspiratorially.
Michael points two fingers at his eyes, then at me as if saying,I'm watching you,before running in the playroom.
"He's here!" Michael screams as the door clicks shut.
Bobby turns around to talk to Carol about getting the merch for the other kids from the car now that her arms aren't full with Michael's enormous present, then strides into the room with the confidence of a rockstar.
He waves to the kids, sitting down on a stool in the front of the open room.
“Any requests?” he asks, and thirty hands shoot up in the air.
“Woah! Okay, well, let’s start with Michael, then we’ll make our way through.”
“You know which one I want,” Michael says, bouncing up and down on his knees, and Bobby laughs, strumming the first chord of “Roots.”
There's no amplifier. No microphone or band or fancy lights, but it's full of joy, and easily my favorite show I’ve seen him play yet.
“Roots” turns into “Love Story” by Taylor Swift, which I was shocked to find Bobby knew every word to, and then a song he made up on the spot when a little boy around the age of five requested a song called “Green Race Cars and Boogers”.
Bobby doesn’t stop until every request has been played to the best of his ability, including the made-up ones, and when we finally leave the room, my cheeks hurt from smiling.
What a gift he’s given them—not only to these kids, but to their parents, who got to see their children laughing and singing and dancing in the midst of what will likely be the biggest trial of their lives.
We spend the next few hours visiting the kids in isolation. Room after room, I wait outside as he gowns and gloves and then de-gowns and de-gloves and gowns and gloves again, a new set of protective clothing, mask, and gloves for each room.
Bobby keeps his Robert mask on the entire time, only slipping when he leaves the room of a little girl with sarcoma and has to stop for amoment to wipe the tears from his eyes. I don’t ask what caused his armor to crack, just hug him as he takes deep breaths for several minutes, then moves on to the next room.
After every kid has been met, and every shirt has been signed, and every song has been sung, we return to Michael's room, where Molly and her family are watching a movie.
"Hey there, Mikey," Bobby says, inclining his head at Stephanie who's sitting with Michael on his bed. She kisses his head, then stands. "I'm going to get a coffee. You girls want to come with?" she asks as Bobby kicks his shoes off and climbs onto the bed next to Michael.
"What are we watching?" he asks, scooting down and putting his hands behind his head.
Michael pauses the movie. "Cars 2!" he says excitedly as he fills Bobby in on the parts he's missed already.
"Yes, please." I try to stifle a yawn, exhausted despite the fact that I've done nothing but watch Bobby do all the work today. We've been here since ten this morning, and it's nearing sunset.
It’s a short walk to the café, where we each grab a cup and a lemonade for Michael.
"I can't tell you how much I appreciate today," Stephanie says as we walk back to Michael's room. "How much all of us do."
I shake my head. "It was all Bobby," I say, uncomfortable with taking any credit.
"Well, I still want to thank you for asking him. I haven't seen Michael this happy in a long time. You've got a good one, Beth," Stephanie says as she holds the door open for me.
"Yes, I do," I say with a smile as I walk through the door.
A rubber dart hits me directly between the eyes, while another one brushes my shoulder.
"Gotcha!" Michael dissolves in a fit of laughter as Bobby blows on the top of his Nerf gun.
I really do,I think, making a mental note to get them back.
NOW
September 2024: New Orleans, LA
There's been an emergency at work, so I'm already on my way to the airport.
