I separate myself from Cali, allowing her to have a private conversation with the doctor. Returning to my seat, I settle back down into the chair and meet Jags’s concerned gaze.
“What’s going on?”
“Cali thinks the…” I’m scared Tyler can hear me even though she’s asleep so I mouth the word, “Cancer” to him.
Jags pinches his chin with his fingers and rolls his eyes up as the back of his head falls against the wall. “Nah, that can’t be happening again,” he says with a weakness behind each word. But it can. We all know this. We’ve all seen someone in our lives affected by this nasty disease.
“I’d like to think not as well, but—”
“I know,” he cuts me off.
The conversation between the doctor and Cali ends quickly and she ambles toward us with her head down, leading me to believe whatever she heard isn’t good news. Please, God, don’t let anything bad happen to Tango.
Cali sits down beside me and rests her head on my shoulder—another non-Cali-like gesture. “His leg is going to take a while to heal. It was broken in four places, and they needed to put screws and a plate in. He probably won’t be able to walk for a couple of months at least. Only one of his ribs is cracked, the rest are just badly bruised.”
“Oh my gosh, Cali.” I don’t want to ask if they told her any more, but I get the sense that there is more.
“Is there anything else?” Jags asks.
Cali lifts her head from my shoulder and sniffles in. “I guess his white blood cell count is up, but that’s all they know right now.”
“Cal,” Jags says strongly. “That could be because he’s in surgery, fighting infection, or it could be because he’s under stress, or because he had a cold. You cannot jump to conclusions; you understand me?”
I don’t think I’ve heard this side of Jags before. He’s so serious and confident. Regardless of his reassuring words, Cali begins to cry harder, as if she were letting out all of her pent up tears that she’s been holding in for years.
“When can you see him?” I ask her.
“They’re moving him into a recovery room right now so they said it would be about thirty minutes or so,” she says through a loud exhale. “You guys don’t have to wait here with me. I’ll be okay. I’m sure it’s okay for me to bring Tyler in.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I tell her.
“Yeah, we’re your family, Cal,” Jags says. “A demented one, but it is what it is.” His words cause Cali to release a soft laugh. I’m not sure if it is to appease Jags’s attempt at cheering her up or if she truly feels a little better, but his words are most definitely a true statement.
“Thank you both for being here,” she says. “It’s nice to know I have you to depend on.”
As we all settle back down, Tyler stirs and pokes her head up with a lazy look in her eyes. “Where are we?” she asks softly.
“Your silly daddy broke his leg, baby. We’re just waiting for him to get a cast so we can go in and see him,” Cali says to her.
I don’t know how she does it. I’m not sure I could ever live up to being a mom like her, continuously hiding the pain and turmoil of real life while pretending it’s one big cupcake made of rainbows. I also spent most of my life believing that’s how life is supposed to be, even as an adult. After these last couple of weeks, though, I don’t know what to believe. The illusion of my safe, comfortable life was pulled out from under me like a carpet, revealing the reality, like an ugly floor underneath.
Tyler hops down from Jags’s leg, runs over to Cali, and snuggles her head into her chest while wrapping her arms around her. “Daddy gets hurt all of the time,” she giggles against Cali. “Last week he put a staple through his thumb.”
“He did what?” Cali asks.
“Oops,” she says, covering her mouth. “He told me not to tell you.”
“What was he doing?” Cali asks her.
“Stapling my homework together.”
“That’s my man right there,” Jags says loudly. “The dude can take out an ambush all on his own but can’t staple paper together. Or keep himself from falling off a second story platform.”
“Tango is definitely a klutz sometimes,” Cali laughs.
“Doesn’t sound that way when you two are in bed together,” I mutter.