Ezoic
“I know, Dad,” Nathan said. “You told me. Like a hundred times.”
“I’ll tell you a hundred more.”
“You don’t have a hundred more,” Nathan said quietly.
The room went very still.
Greg looked at his son for a long time.
“No,” he said. “I guess I don’t.”
Denise came to the doorway with Cole.
Cole had washed his hands in a hospital bathroom. They were red and raw. He was holding something. A little wooden car. Rough. Lopsided. Whittled out of a piece of pallet wood. The wheels were slightly crooked.
He walked over to the bed. He set it on the little table next to Greg.
“I brought Bumblebee,” Cole said. “So you’d have something in here. It’s kind of empty.”
Greg looked at the little car.
“I made that for you, kid,” he said. “You’re supposed to keep it.”
“I’ll get it back,” Cole said. “Later.”
