"Boy! Hey, boy! Hey, you over there!"
Taylor glanced up. "Me?"
"Yeah, you." Allen grinned, showing front teeth too big for his mouth. "You, boy. What's your name?"
"Taylor," said Taylor, wishing Nora hadn't chosen this particular moment to run downstairs to get coffee and something for breakfast. It was his second morning in the hospital. Allen's parents had gone to Toys R Us to buy their little darling presents, and now Allen had decided to be friendly. Taylor didn't know if he was interested in Allen's friendship.
"What kind of a name is that?" Allen made a face. "That's a stupid name."
Taylor was worried. "Nobody ever told me that before."
"It's okay," Allen told him. "You're just a little baby. But by the time you get to be old, like, eight or something, you had better change your name."
"Why?" Taylor asked.
"You don't want to go through life with a name like Taylor." Allen rolled his eyes, as if this fact should be obvious.
"Why not?" Taylor pursued. He'd never thought much about his name before.
"Because it's stupid." Allen pursed his lips. "You really are a baby, aren't you?"
"I'm five," Taylor informed him. Five, he knew, was not a baby.
"Five." Allen looked up at the ceiling. "No wonder. You're in kindergarten, right?"
Taylor nodded. What was wrong with kindergarten?
"Baby," Allen scoffed. "I'm eight."
Taylor smiled. "So's my brother!"
Allen hadn't counted on this. He was an only child, and when people started dragging their siblings into the conversation, he could no longer compete on the same field. Allen's field, one he'd perfected over time, was one-upmanship. Anything anyone else had, he had, too- and better. Except for siblings.
"What's his name?" Allen demanded.
"Isaac," Taylor told him.
Allen burst out laughing. "That's an even dumber name than Taylor!"
"No it's not!" Taylor folded his arms. "My brother could beat you up."
"No he couldn't!" Allen laughed loudly. "How old is he?"
"Seven," Taylor began, then caught himself. "No, eight. He's eight now. So he could so beat you up."
"I'm going to be nine soon," Allen informed him, importantly.
"That's funny. . . " Taylor squinted across the room at Allen. "You don't look like you're going to be nine soon."
"That's because I'm tall for my age," Allen explained.
"No, I thought you were maybe about seven," Taylor lied. "Because you're so short."
Allen's face purpled. "I AM NOT SHORT!" he yelled. "YOU'RE THE ONE WHO'S SHORT, SHRIMP!"
"If my brother heard you call me that, he'd come and punch you in the face," Taylor intoned.
"I bet you don't even have a brother," Allen obsereved, dourly.
"I do too. . . two brothers," Taylor told him. "And as soon as I get out of the hospital, maybe we'll all beat you up." He felt himself beginning to cough again, and snaked one of his hands beneath the thin fabric of his hospital gown, pressing his palm against his chest. Pain stabbed against his rib cage and he leaned back against the pillow, willing it to go away.
"I don't believe you." Allen folded his arms and scowled.
"It's true." Taylor gasped for air, breathing shakily. Inside, though, he brimmed with triumph. "My brother is stronger than anybody. He can do anything." He stuck his tongue out at Allen. "So there."
"Oh yeah?" Allen challenged.
"Yeah!" Taylor affirmed. He was getting tired of Allen, tired of the hospital, tired of everything. Talking about his brothers made him miss them. He wanted to get out of here, but he was scared of what would happen after he did.
"Allen, I have good news for you!" The nurse who entered the room appeared buoyantly happy. "You can go home today!"
"And he doesn't get to." Allen shot a superior look at Taylor. "He has to stay here and get shots, right?"
Taylor felt his lower lip quiver. He bit it, not wanting to cry, but his eyes filled anyway.
The nurse looked like she could have happily killed Allen. "Well, maybe he's not going to go home right away," she admitted. "But that's because we like him too much to let him leave." She grinned at Taylor, winking. He smiled back, wanly. He wished she wouldn't leave. Everybody who did anything nice for him always ended up leaving. Maybe even Nora. . . what if she didn't come back? What if he never saw either of his brothers again?
Taylor felt his skin prickle into goosebumps. He was terrified.
"I know something about you," Allen said, as soon as the nurse was out of earshot. "My mommy said I shouldn't tell you that I knew it."
"What?" Taylor asked, wondering what Allen was talking about.
"That lady who's with you, she's not your real mother at all," Allen said. "She isn't even related to you. She never even met you before Friday."
"I know that," Taylor said, wondering if Allen thought that he was stupid.
"And your real mommy went away and she left you for days and days," Allen went on, sounding gleeful.
It didn't surprise Taylor that Allen knew that. When his mommy went away, he thought the whole world had to know it. "So? Maybe she had stuff to do. They found her now, though."
"Stuff to do," Allen scoffed. "Yeah, right. When they found her, they put her into jail."
Taylor's heart skipped a beat. "They did not."
"They did so." There was triumph in Allen's voice. "Why else hasn't she come to see you, or even called you? The nurse told my mommy that your mommy is in jail."
Taylor felt anger rise within him. "Your mommy lied. She lied to you."
"She did not." Allen crossed his arms and grinned hugely. "Your mommy is in jail. And you want to know why?"
Taylor's lower lip quivered. "Why?"
"Because she went away and left you. Because she doesn't love you." Allen watched for a reaction. He got one.
Taylor started to cry. "She did so love me! She did so!"
"No she didn't." Allen wiped his glasses and slid them onto his face. "She hates you."
Taylor looked around for something to throw. There was a pen next to the bed, and he heaved it at Allen. It didn't go far. "YOU'RE LYING!" he bellowed, beginning to cough again. "MY MOMMY IS NOT IN JAIL!"
Half a minute later, Nora's pager went off. Something told her she needed to get upstairs as fast as possible, and she was right.
"We can't get him to calm down." The nurse's voice was apologetic. "We can't even figure out what's wrong. . ." She stood by helplessly as Nora dashed into the hospital room, reacting on instinct when she heard Taylor crying.
"Honey, what's the matter?" It struck Nora that this was the first time since he'd been in the hospital that she'd seen Taylor cry. She figured he had a lot of emotions to let out. Right now, he was angry, fighting off anyone who tried to come near him. "I want my mommy!" he wailed, turning away from her. "Go away!"
Nora told herself that she shouldn't be offended. She sat down in a chair at the edge of the bed. "I know you do," she said, her voice gentle. "I really wish your mommy could be here right now."
"She's not really in jail!" Taylor sounded as if he were trying to convince himself, as well as Nora, that what he was saying was true. "She isn't really in jail, is she?"
"Who told you that?" Nora's stomach jumped into her throat. "Who told you she was in jail?"
"He did." Taylor pointed at Allen, who had assumed a baffled look.
"Why is he crying?"
Nora wanted to strangle the kid. "Well, he shouldn't have told you that, Taylor. He really, really shouldn't have."
Taylor managed to catch his breath for a moment. "She's not in jail, right?"
"Honey. . ." Nora paused. "She is."
Taylor looked up again. "She is?"
"I'm sorry you had to find out. . ." Nora began.
Taylor drew a long, shaky breath. He looked stricken. "She is," he repeated, in a whisper. He buried his head in his arms, sobbing quietly, defeatedly, hopelessly. When Nora put her arms around him, he let her.
"Honey, I am so, so sorry," Nora whispered. Tears came to her eyes. "I'm so sorry." She bit her lip. There was nothing else she could tell him.