A Heart for Robbie (32 page)

anything for a while, so I went back to see what was happening. I

remember a desperate feeling. I just… I want to see Robbie. When I went

through those first double doors, the hallway was longer, like a mile long, and I started to run, but I couldn’t get to the next hallway. It took forever, and I just got more and more terrified. There were like a hundred rooms

on either side of me, which I know is impossible, but I just kept running.

Finally, I got to the second hallway, and I turned the corner. The…. Oh

God, the….” Julian stopped and put his face in his hands. The tears started again, worse than before.

“Take your time, Julian. I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay.”

“When I went around the corner, the door to Robbie’s room was

open,” Julian whispered.

The room spun for a moment with the weight of Julian’s dream. The

door to Robbie’s room was locked, so that you had to enter through the

clean room. There would be only one reason for the door to be open.

“A nurse jumped up and closed it, but I’d already seen. I already

knew.” Julian cried freely, not bothering to stop the tears as they streamed down his face. “And then the doctors, Gupta and Dane, they took me into

this claustrophobic room down the hall before I could fall to my knees or run into Robbie’s room. They took me in that little room and told me that the heart rejected. They’d tried stronger and stronger antirejection

medications, but it just gave out. And then they asked me if they could do an autopsy to see exactly what went wrong. Shouldn’t they have known

what went wrong? They were the doctors.”

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“Julian, baby, it was a dream. It was just a dream.” He reached for

Julian, who sagged into his arms, and they lay back down in the bed,

shivering, though the first days of August were barely upon them. Without letting go of Julian, Simon grabbed his phone from the nightstand. With a quick sequence of numbers, he dialed the main switchboard of the

hospital, a number he knew so well from having worked there for years.

The operator transferred him to the ICU desk for Robbie’s room.

“This is Betty,” an older female voice said by way of greeting as the

call connected.

“Hi, Betty, my name is Simon Phelps. I’m Julian Holmes’s partner.

Our security code is one seven six zero. We’re calling to see how Robbie is.” He waited a long moment while the nurse pulled up the file and

checked the access code. Every patient had a security code for finding out information on his or her condition, but the hospital took special

precautions with Julian because of his celebrity status. So far, the news of Robbie’s transplant hadn’t hit the media, but it would only be a matter of time.

“Hello, Mr. Phelps. It’s here in Robert’s chart that I may speak with

you. Dr. Gupta was here just in the last few minutes, and they’ve increased his dosage of prednisone, and it looks like they’re talking now about

maybe moving him to a different type of immunosuppressant. He doesn’t

have a fever, so that’s good. It looks like there is no sign of infection. His kidneys are still not functioning, and he may have to have dialysis if they don’t kick in soon. You and Mr. Holmes may want to come back to the

hospital, if you can.”

“We’ll be there in an hour. Thank you,” Simon said, and Julian

looked up at him with frightened eyes. He refused to sugarcoat the truth because the circumstances were serious.

“They’ve increased his prednisone.”

“The heart is starting to reject.”

“Yes.”

“They’re discussing moving him to a different immunosuppressant,

but like we found in our research, the first step is upping his steroid. His kidneys are still giving them trouble, but the good news is that there is no sign of infection.”

“Okay. I’ll shower first, and then we can pick up food on the way,”

Julian said, and his voice sounded stronger than it had since they’d gotten 188

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the call about the heart in the first place. He seemed to have found his strength, his center. Robbie was fighting for his life, and his father would fight right along with him.

It took them a little less than an hour to get back to the hospital. Erin sat in the waiting room when they arrived, holding down the fort. Simon

saw Mrs. Holmes’s purse and more coffee cups than should have been

allowed, which meant Julian’s parents were with Robbie.

“Did you sleep?” Erin asked Julian as she climbed out of the chair

and stalked over to wrap her arms around him.

“Yes. Are Mom and Dad back with Robbie?”

“Yeah, they’ve been back there, maybe twenty minutes? The nurses

were doing something with Robbie and kicked everyone out but let us

back in a little bit ago.” Erin let go of Julian and hugged Simon. They’d met for coffee a few times since Simon lost his job, when he and Julian

had taken Robbie to the coffee shop around the corner to get some fresh

air. Robbie liked all of the excitement, the lights, and the sound when they got out of their little bubble of a townhouse. Simon thought maybe it

helped Julian too, because after a while that bubble felt an awful lot like a prison.

“We called in and got a status update. I think I’ll go back and talk to

the nurse a minute, but I’ll be right back.” Julian gave Simon a weak smile and a tiny chaste kiss before heading off in the direction of the doors to the ICU.

He and Erin watched him go until he turned the corner and went out

of sight.

“How is he?” Erin asked, settling back down in her chair but leaving

the Kindle she’d been reading from on the arm. She looked tired and

worried but better rested than either he or Julian, despite their

midafternoon catnap. She’d pulled her light brown hair up into some kind of casual clip and had worn the standard hospital waiting room uniform:

jean shorts, a nondescript T-shirt, and tennis shoes.

“He’s terrified, but he slept for a while. I made him eat on the way

here. I think he’s holding his own, at least for now. If Robbie’s condition worsens, I don’t know what that will do to him.”

“Is he still talking to them?”

Simon looked over at Erin, who regarded him closely.

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“What do you mean?”

“His characters, is he still talking to them?”

“Mostly when he’s writing, but he did talk to Liam a lot while we

were waiting for the surgery to end. He didn’t talk to him out loud, but I caught Liam’s name every so often while he muttered to himself.”

“He hasn’t done it nearly as often since he’s met you. I think he felt

really alone for a long time, but with you, he doesn’t.”

“I know how that feels. I felt alone for a really long time too.”

It took about fifteen minutes for Julian to return. At first, Simon

thought maybe he’d gone in to see Robbie, but when he opened the door

to the waiting room with a pale face and trembling hands, Simon knew

he’d been talking to the medical staff.

Julian didn’t bother with a chair. He dropped to the floor at Simon’s

feet and put his head on Simon’s leg. Simon stroked his hair, trying to

soothe him.

“They’ve changed his antirejection medication out for something

stronger, and his kidneys still aren’t functioning. They said they’re

‘hopeful’ but not saying anything more than that.”

Simon slid down to the floor with Julian, wrapping his arms around

the man he loved more than anything on earth.

“Then all we can do is wait.”

THEY DID wait.

They waited three very long days, in which Julian ate little and slept

even less.

The morning of that fourth day after surgery, they called Julian back

to the nurse’s station to talk to the doctors. Simon went with him and

breathed a sigh of relief when the door of Robbie’s room remained closed.

Dr. Dane and Dr. Gupta talked quietly with the nurses at the station. They were smiling, which gave Simon hope.

Each of them turned as Julian approached, facing him, and Julian

slipped his hand into Simon’s just before they reached the group. Katie, the nurse they liked so much from that first day after surgery, held up a medical bag with a strangely discolored yellow liquid in it. It looked

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almost like watered-down brown mustard. The weirdest part was, she

beamed as she showed them.

“I don’t…,” Julian started, but then something shone in his eyes, a

light that had been missing for days. Then the obvious slammed into

Simon with the force of a train between stations.

“His kidneys are working?” Simon asked her, his voice no louder

than a whisper. She nodded and poured the contents into a graduated cup

to measure and record the volume.

“We’ve also been able to scale back on the prednisone, because the

new antirejection medication is more effective.”

“Oh my God,” Julian whispered, squeezing Simon’s hand.

Dr. Gupta nodded.

“It looks good. It looks pretty damn good.”

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Epilogue

“PAPA, CAN I have one of those scooters like Susie across the street has?

She won’t let me ride hers,” Robbie asked as Simon pulled the medical

supply box down from the top of the refrigerator.

Julian watched from the doorway. They had started to switch up who

took care of Robbie’s medical needs so that their son could resent them

equally for what they needed to put him through each day.

“Why don’t you wait and see what you get for your birthday today

before you start asking for more stuff?” Simon asked, trying to hide the amusement in his voice.

“You got me a scooter?” Robbie asked, more animated now, even as

Simon got the finger prick out of the box and opened an alcohol swab.

“I’m not telling you that. You’ll have to wait and open your

presents.” Simon laughed, and Julian smiled at them both. They had, in

fact, gotten Robbie the scooter he wanted. It came complete with helmet, knee pads, and elbow pads, all in his favorite color of blue.

“Okay, are you ready, champ?” Simon asked, and Robbie sighed. In

some ways, Robbie looked older than five, forced to grow up faster than

he should have because of the diabetes caused by the immunosuppressant.

They had told Julian in those first few months after the transplant it was a possibility. To keep him alive, Julian thought then it would be a small price to pay. He didn’t regret their choice to go ahead with the transplant but hated sticking Robbie several times a day and giving him shots with

the insulin pen.

Simon put the strip on the meter and waited while Julian watched

Robbie. He looked more and more like Julian each day, with his shaggy

black curls and vibrant blue eyes, eyes that held all the wisdom of sickness 192

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but the possibilities of youth. Even though he’d gained weight well

throughout his infancy, Robbie turned out small for his age. Wiry but

strong, he spent a lot of time outside with kids from his preschool.

The meter beeped, and Simon dialed the correct dosage on the pen to

administer. Even now, a year later, Julian still hated this part. He hated having to stick and poke and prod his son with needles, as if he didn’t get enough of that with all of their post-transplant testing.

Robbie hissed in a breath at the sting but then pulled his shirt back

down, and for that time, it was over. Simon packed the kit back together and sat Robbie down at the table to have his morning oatmeal. Most kids

his age wolfed down sugary cereal or Pop-Tarts, but again, Robbie was

different. Julian wondered how that would translate once he started school.

Already he would be a year older than all the other kids because of his

slow development after the surgery. Simon suggested taking him for

martial arts classes so he’d have the confidence and strength to deal with bullies. That became more of a possibility each day that Robbie got

stronger.

Julian finished the oatmeal on the stove for the three of them and

poured it into bowls. They found, as Robbie got a little older and

understood his condition better, that eating what he ate made him feel less alone. Simon had lost ten pounds in the last year and looked fantastic. In fact, just the night before, he’d shown Simon just how beautiful Julian

found him by making love until they both shook. He smiled at the

memory.

The light caught Simon’s wedding band and filled Julian’s heart with

warmth. They’d been married for just under three years, since the June

after Robbie turned two. He’d wanted to do it sooner, but with all of the medical visits, ambulance calls, and weeks sitting in hospital waiting