The elevator stopped at Eric’s floor and Bill rolled off headed toward the nurse’s station, pleased to see Megan at the counter.
As he drew near, she looked up from her paperwork and smiled. There was a doctor at the end of the counter with a file open in front of him.
“Hi there, did you come to see Eric?” asked Megan.
“If it’s okay.”
Bill’s attention drifted. “I remember being eight and scared, and I wasn’t facing brain surgery,” he said softly.
Megan gave Bill a quick glance, wanting to ask what he was referring to, but now was not the time.
“His parents are still here, Bill. Why don’t you check with them?”
Bill blinked a couple times and was back in the present.
“Sure, sure. When he comes out of surgery would you let me know? I would like to be there when he wakes up.”
“Of course.”
“Do you have a Sharpie I can borrow?”
She hunted around, found one and handed it to him.
Bill signed his baseball mitt, the one Jake had brought to the hospital, laid the marker on the counter, and tucked the glove under his shirt.
Megan smiled, realizing what Bill was planning to do. “That’s awfully nice of you, Bill.”
At the door to Eric’s room Bill stopped when he saw the look of confusion on Eric’s face and barely suppressed fear on those of his parents. He could see that Caroline had been crying. Eric was asking questions.
“What’s the surgery like?
“Can I have ice cream after?
“How long will it take?
“Will it hurt?
Bill thought David and Caroline were struggling to maintain their composure, and he could see that Caroline almost lost it after the last question.
He started to back away, the movement drawing David Hall’s attention. “Mr. Sullivan, please come in.”
“Call me Bill, and I feel like I’m intruding.”
“Please!” Eric said, a smile taking over his face.
“Okay, Eric!” said Bill.
David and Caroline shared a glance.
“Bill, would you stay with Eric for a few minutes? David and I are going to meet with Eric’s doctor. He should be at the nurse’s station.”
“Of course,” he replied.
He and Eric watched them leave the room.
“Bill, I’m scared,” said Eric.
“I thought you might be Eric. That’s one reason I stopped by.”
“My mom and dad are afraid because I have a tumor. I don’t want to die.”
Oookay! Talk about getting to the point. “Well. Umm. Eric, I don’t think you are going to die.”
“I thought most people with hurt brains die.”
Bill gave him a small smile, feeling more certain now. “No, not anymore. Medicine has been improving for quite some time and most people now live.”
“But some die, right?” insisted Eric.
Man, oh man.
“Yes, Eric they do, but why don’t you give it some time and see what they can do for you. You look pretty healthy to me.”
“Would you let them operate on your brain?”
“Eric, the doctors here are really good and I would let them.”
What the hell am I supposed to say?
“Okay” said Eric, seemingly satisfied.
Bill could tell Eric was tired and his face was gray.
“I have something for you, Eric.”
“Oh yeah? What is it?” His eyes lit up.
Bill reached inside his shirt, pulled out his baseball mitt and handed it the boy.
“This glove is too old. I should get a new one.”
Eric’s eyes were wide open. “Oh, wow! Can I really have this?”
Bill nodded.
Eric hugged the mitt to his chest with his eyes closed and shook with happiness.
“This is so cool! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Eric was beaming.
“Will you throw me a few pitches after I get better?”
“You bet I will, Eric!”
Eric was turning the mitt over and over, looking at it from every angle. He slid it over his hand and then pulled it off. It was way too big, but he didn’t care. His eyes were wide open, and he was lost in happiness. He had his signed baseball in the bed with him, so he grabbed it and tucked it deep in the mitt.
“Are you friends with all your teammates, Bill?”
“Most of them.”
“Did you play T-ball?”
“No. I didn’t start baseball until I was in the third grade, and we started hitting balls on the playground. I started pitching and throwing against the chain link backstop and one of the teachers noticed me. She talked to one of the coaches and he helped me join an Optimist team.”
“I’m in little league. I have a great coach.
“How did you get to the Dodgers?
“How fast can you throw?
“Have you hit a home run?
“What’s it like to strike out batters?”
Bill laughed at the rapid-fire questions, and they kept talking, both forgetting their fears temporarily. Eric’s parents came in, listened, and went back out. Megan checked in and gave them five minutes, really touched by Bill’s kindness.
Eric was holding the baseball in the mitt and started to nod off, waking when his head dropped.
Bill was tiring quickly. He placed his hand on Eric’s forearm.
“Hey, Eric, we’ll talk some more tomorrow.”
Bill’s energy plummeted and he closed his eyes.