“For the love of God, when is this going to end?” Dan demanded. He didn’t care that he sounded melodramatic. He didn’t feel as if he were being melodramatic.
“For the love of God, when is what going to end?” Taylor asked.
“For the love of God!” Zac shrieked, liking the sound of the words.
“Nothing.” Dan held the phone against his ear, listening. “Oh, for crying out loud. Well, I’m glad I hadn’t said anything to. . . you know who and you know who yet.”
“You know who and you know who who?” Taylor asked. It was the next morning, and Nora had already been at the hospital by the time he woke up. Now, Dan was on the phone. Taylor and Zac were eating breakfast.
Dan shook his head. “Nobody, Tay.”
“Oh.” Taylor nodded.
“Eat your Cheerios.” Dan listened to the person on the other end of the phone for a long time.
“Eat your Cheerios, Zac,” Taylor told his younger brother.
“No,” Zac, who had been calmly eating his Cheerios, put his spoon down. “I won’t eat my Cheerios anymore.”
“Eat your Cheerios!” Taylor bellowed.
“No!” Zac yelled. “You aren’t my boss!”
“Eat your Cheerios, Zac!” Taylor banged his fist against the table.
“Will the two of you be quiet for two seconds?” Dan demanded, exasperated.
Both of them fell silent, regarding him questioningly. Dan winced. “I’m sorry, but I’m trying to listen and I can’t, because you’re fighting. I shouldn’t have yelled.”
Taylor’s lower lip quivered. “Are you mad, Dan?”
Dan nodded. “Yeah, but not at either of you.”
“At us?” Zac asked, worried.
“No,” Dan shook his head. “No, not at either of you.” For the second time, he added, mentally. “Just finish eating breakfast.”
“Drink your orange juice, Zac,” Taylor told him.
“I already drinked it.” Zac held up his cup. “See?”
“Wow!” Taylor was genuinely impressed.
“Now you drink your orange juice,” Zac directed.
“Okay,” Taylor said, and drank his orange juice.
Dan hung up the phone. “Come on,” he said, sighing. “We have to take Taylor to school.”
“Why are you mad, Dan?” Taylor asked.
Dan shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m just frustrated.”
“Just frustrated,” Zac sighed, even though he had no idea what the word ‘frustrated’ meant. He cast an envious glance at the velcro fasteners on Taylor’s shoes.
All three of them were quiet as Dan drove Taylor to school. The radio wasn’t on, for once, and even Taylor didn’t say anything for a long time. He found a box of conversation hearts, left over from the day before, underneath the seat and gently flipped the top open, spilling a few out into his hand.
“Those things taste like chalk,” Dan observed, breaking the silence.
“What’s chalk taste like?” Zac wanted to know.
Dan shook his head, grinning. “Don’t try it.”
“They taste good,” Taylor defended. “And they say nice things on them.”
“Like what?” Zac asked.
Taylor squinted at a small pink heart. “Love. See? That’s a nice thing to say.” He looked up at Dan. “How come you’re mad?”
Dan took a deep breath, wondering what he could tell them without worrying them. “They just told Ike he had to stay in the hospital a few more days.”
“A few more days?” Zac breathed.
Dan nodded. “Yeah. He’s all right. They just can’t send him home yet.” In truth, yesterday’s endoscopy had caused internal bleeding that had gone undetected until late last night. The phone call had come at three a.m. Nora had gone to the hospital and emergency surgery had been performed. That’s what the phone call had been about this morning.
Even though Nora had told Dan that this might only mean that Isaac would be in the hospital two or three days longer, it still seemed unfair. Dan was still mad.
“I told him he didn’t feel good.” Taylor clenched his jaw. “I told him!”
“He’ll be okay,” Dan sighed. “This just means he’ll be in the hospital a little bit longer.
“Like until my birthday?” Taylor asked. His birthday was coming. He would be seven. Almost grown up.
“No, before that,” Dan assured him.
“You’re mad because Ike’s in the hopsicle?” Zac wondered.
“No. . .” Dan tried to explain what he was feeling. “I mean, if he’s sick enough to stay in the hospital, he has to stay there. But it just makes me mad that every time they’re about to let him leave, something goes wrong.”
“Who are you mad at?” Taylor asked.
Dan shook his head. “That’s the hard part. It’s not really anybody’s fault, so you can’t be mad at anybody.”
“’Cept Mommy,” Taylor pointed out.
Dan nodded, but he didn’t answer. He did blame Kathleen. He blamed Kathleen and whoever had fathered the boys and the system that had created them. And it suddenly struck him that the only way he’d ever have of fighting back against that system. . . whatever it had consisted of. . . would be to keep Isaac, Taylor and Zac from going in the same direction.
Dan realized then what a truly incredible amount of responsibility he’d unknowingly been plunged into.
And I’ll have to follow through, he thought. Nora and I will have to follow threw, because no one else has.
Finally Dan could articulate what he’d known, inherently, from the beginning.