Chapter 3 - MASON IN A BOOT
Children adapt quickly.
Adults call that resilience because it makes us feel better.
Mason adapted to crutches because he had no choice.
The first morning, he hated them.
"They’re stupid."
"They are."
"I can hop."
"No."
"I can."
"You can also fall."
He glared at me.
Then tried to hop.
Nearly fell.
We used the crutches.
His orthopedist, Dr. Elena Park, showed us the fracture on the X-ray.
"Clean nondisplaced line here."
Mason squinted.
"Is my bone cracked?"
"Yes."
"Did the metal do it?"
"Most likely, based on the history."
"Will it stay cracked?"
"No. Bones heal."
"When?"
"Several weeks. We’ll check."
"Football?"
"Not yet."
He looked at me.
As if I could overrule medicine.
I said:
"Not yet."
Good.
Then he asked:
"Is Uncle Trent going to jail?"
Dr. Park looked away.
Not her question.
I crouched beside him.
"I don’t know."
"He broke my bone."
"Yes."
"On purpose."
"He hit you on purpose. A court will decide what that means legally."
Too many words for seven.
He frowned.
"Is he bad?"
That was harder.
"He did something very bad."
"Grandma Patricia said I embarrassed family."
"I know."
"Did I?"
"No."
That answer could be simple.
He nodded.
Then:
"Can I have ice cream?"
May you like
Also simple.
"Yes."
