Hunter came through the door to the kitchen one late Saturday morning for breakfast. I was texting Greg from work to finalize plans for the football game tomorrow, when Hunter sat down with his cereal. 

We sat in silence for a few moments before he cleared his throat and said, “Dad, do you remember Michael from when I was younger?”

“Yeah I do, he used to come over all the time,” I said.

“Yeah, well I saw this morning on Instagram that he and another kid from school got into a pretty rough car accident last night driving home from a party,” he informed me. “The guy he was with took a picture of the cars and posted it, said they were going to the hospital.”

“Oh wow,” I said, taken aback. Hunter had mentioned before that Michael would go to the sort of high school parties that he would always avoid. The ones you’re always suspicious of your kid lying to you about and going when you’re not supposed to know. “Are they hurt pretty bad?”

“I mean the guy who posted it was obviously stable enough to be posting about it on the internet.”

“Was there anyone else in the car?”

“I don’t know, there could’ve been. He just showed the picture of the car and tagged Michael.” 

“Hmm. Sad to see him get into trouble like that.”

The rest of breakfast was sat through in silence as Hunter finished his cereal. Even though every parent was always worried about their kid going into high school for this reason, it was still surprising when other kids who you still picture as 1st graders are getting into that kind of trouble. Even when that’s the reason you don’t see them around much anymore. 

I mulled this over for some time, and when Hunter left the kitchen I decided to give Michael’s parents a call, assuming they hadn’t changed their phone numbers in the years past. Sure enough, they picked up.

“Hello?” Came a frustrated voice through the phone.

“Hey Patrick, it’s Josiah, Hunter’s dad. How have you guys been?”

“Just fine,” was the only response.

“Yeah? Hunter told me today that your Michael got into a car accident last night. How’s he doing?”

“He’s alright, Josiah.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear it. He’s home recovering then? I assume that’s all he’ll be doing for the next little while if you have anything to say about it.”

“Uh no, he’s still at the hospital. They wanted to keep him overnight to keep an eye on him. I guess he said he was dizzy, or something like that. Ambulance people got all concerned. I told them not to rack up the hospital bills trying to fix a head that’s not good for much use anyway, but they insisted.”

“Yeah, it’s hard to believe some of the decisions these kids make, till you remember we made plenty of stupid ones ourselves,” I said, keeping it casual. “So are you at the hospital now then, or heading back soon?”

“Nah we’re just waiting for the call to pick him up,” he said, exasperated. “We signed off last night so they could do no more than what was necessary, and to call us when we had to come pay the bill.”

There was the absent father I always remembered my son’s friend having. The reason the kid came over as much as he did.

“You’re not going to be at the hospital with your son? He’s there by himself?”

“I’d just be going to sit there with him. He’s 17, you really think he wants me there?” He said, as if I had some fantastical view of the situation. 

“Well yeah I do actually,” I said plainly. “He’s still a kid, who’s gotten himself into trouble and is hurting because of it. Don’t you think you should be there to help him through that?”

“You said it there yourself, Jo,” as if I was finally starting to catch on. “He’s in there because of his own bad decisions, he’s got to deal with the consequences. And he didn’t even call to tell me he was going to the hospital to spend my money. A cop had to call and tell me. Like I said he doesn’t want me or his mom there. He doesn’t care.”

Or he’s just lived with you 17 years and knows you’re going to do this to him, I thought.

“Patrick, what hospital was he taken to?”

“He’s up at White Valley Care, it was the closest to where they were. Had to drive all the way there just to pay some bills and sign off for that idiot,” he said, grumbling through the last sentence. “Why do you ask?”
“Cause honestly, Patrick, the kid needs someone there with him to at least know how he’s doing. So he knows someone’s there for him. If you’re not going to do that, and your wife won’t, then I think I’ll head up there myself for a few hours today.”

“Oh Josiah, don’t waste your Saturday,” he said dismissively. “I’m sure they’ll be calling for us to come get him before the end of the day. He was really fine before they took him in, said so himself, and you know what a wuss he is.”

“I’ve never actually known Michael to be a wuss, he was always a very strong kid.”

“Well you didn’t live with ‘em, I guess,” he said cooly.

“Sure,” I said. I’ve learned that you never can win an argument with Patrick. To get into one would be a simple waste of time. “Well, I do think I’ll go visit Michael today, for a couple hours maybe.” I didn’t like him much, and I didn’t think he had too much right at that point to object, but it did feel off to visit his son at the hospital without his okay.

“I mean it’s your Saturday you’re wasting,” he said. He didn’t think I was asking permission. As far as he was concerned, the term “Parent” was purely legal.

Without much else to do around the house on Saturdays, I did the dishes and cleaned out the fridge to give Michael a few hours to wake up; he had to have had a late night. As soon as it hit 2pm, I called Patrick and Susanna again to make sure he wasn’t already home. They said the doctor called them and told them he had a mild to moderate concussion from the impact of the airbag, and they wanted to keep him a few more hours to make sure it’s not more serious. 

They said again that they weren’t going until they were supposed to take him home.

As I got into my car, through the dark, stormy weather, I recalled the years Michael spent coming to our house almost every weekend to play with Hunter. He would occasionally come through the week too, when they both swore to go to sleep when they were told. Of course the reason given was always so that he could come play with Hunter, but through the years we had many Friday night sleepovers that would end with the outpouring of an additional reason. After they were both supposed to be asleep, I would walk down the hall to check on them, and I would hear quiet sniffling coming from inside the room. 

I slowly opened the door to see Hunter fast asleep at his end of his twin bed. Michael was turned away from me, with his body shaking every time the sniffling sound came.

“Hey buddy, what’s going on?” I said quietly. Michael was never a teary child. He and Hunter once crashed their bikes together racing around a corner, and while you could hear Hunter from a mile away, Michael put on a quiet, brave face. Not what I expected from a 5 year old boy.

“Nothing,” he said between sobs.

“Well it sure doesn’t seem like nothing,” I went and sat on the edge of the bed. “Do you want to tell me about it? Do you want me to call your parents?”

“No,” he told me, “I’m going to sleep.”

I scooped him up out of the bed, set him on his feet, and led him into the kitchen. “When I’ve got something on my mind I like to come in and get a glass of chocolate milk. Thinking things over with some chocolate milk always seems to make them a little better. Telling someone about them helps even more.”

I got us both some chocolate milk and we sat at the table. 

“So what made you so upset?”

After some prompting and joking, he finally told me why he was up crying at 1 o’clock in the morning. 

“I have to go home tomorrow,” he mumbled.

“Yeah I’m afraid that is how sleepovers end,” I told him patiently. “We’ll have you over again soon I’m sure.”

“Yeah I know,” he said sadly.

“Is there a reason why you don’t want to go home? Other than all the fun you have here with your friend?”

“My house is just not like yours. You and Mrs. Egan don’t yell and fight when I’m here, and you don’t ignore me and Hunter when we talk to you. You do things with us and let us do things together. My parents don’t like each other enough to have movie nights, or go to Walmart together.”

After the first sentence, I expected an “I’m never allowed to have candy close to bedtime”, or “it’s never fun at my house”. While I’m sure that was part of it for a 7 year old mind, it really just sounded like a kid wanting to be cared for.  

After that night, my wife and I made sure to have Michael over as often as we could. There wasn’t much of a schedule to work around when it came to Michael’s parents. They were always happy to have him out of the house, even as a child. And eventually it felt strange to tell people I only had the one son, because a blood relation or legal document seemed to be the only difference between Michael and Hunter.

I got to the hospital about a half an hour later. I gave the nurse his name, and she called his parents to confirm it was okay. She gave me his room number, and I walked down off-white hallway to his room. As I walked in he was sitting up in bed flipping through channels on the TV. 

He had bruising on and around his nose and eyes, probably from the airbag. Beyond those though, there were no casts or braces. He looked beat up but not in critical condition. Because of this, I was thankful his parents didn’t refuse medical attention all together. Concussions are not exactly overly visible injuries.

“Hey buddy, how ya doing?” I said lightly. He seemed to be very taken aback by my entrance. 

“Um, I’m doing alright, all things considered,” he said quietly. 

“Yeah?” He nodded. “Well I haven’t really seen you for a while, and Hunter said he saw what happened posted about on the internet. I called your folks up to see how you were doing, and I know how they are, so I thought I might come over and keep you company for a bit.”

As I was saying it, his face got all red and a tear slid down his check.

“Hey what’s wrong? Do you need me to get the doctor?” I said urgently.

“No, I’m fine,” he said, embarrassed . He wiped away the tear.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” He tried to pull himself together, but his voice broke in spite of himself. “I just didn’t think anyone would care enough to be here when they don’t have to be.”