Words Get In the Way by Nan Rossiter

“Ben Wyeth.”
    Before the nurse could inquire further, another nurse bustled out of a nearby room and Callie was relieved to see a familiar face. Jess was one of her mom’s former coworkers, and her friendly eyes lit up when she saw Callie, but then they quickly clouded over in a frown. “Oh, baby, we’ve been trying to reach you all morning.”
    Callie’s relief turned to panic. “Why? What’s wrong?”
    “It’s your daddy, honey. He’s had another stroke.” Jess wrapped her arms around both of them. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. When Jess pulled away, tears were streaming down Callie’s cheeks. “Oh, baby, don’t cry,” she said, gently wiping away the tears. “You’re going to upset this beautiful little boy.” Jess smiled at Henry. “Your grampa’s gonna be okay, honey. Don’t you worry. We’re taking good care of him.” Jess turned back to Callie. “He’s been moved to intensive care.”
    Callie nodded, her body obviously straining under the unbearable weight of her world. “Thank you, Jess,” she said.
    “Girl, what is wrong with your phone? I was going to send Todd up there as soon as he got out of work.”
    “I’ve been trying to get it hooked up,” Callie explained, “but they came when I wasn’t home.”
    Jess nodded. “Well, you better straighten it out so we can reach you.” She hesitated. “Listen, do you want to talk to one of the doctors? Because I can get one for you... .” Callie shook her head, and Jess put her arm around her again. “He’s going to be okay, baby. Your daddy’s a fighter. That’s where you get it from.” Callie smiled. “That’s my girl.” Jess smiled too. “Listen, you get a sitter and come back later and you can see him, okay?”
    “Can’t Henry see him?” Callie asked.
    Jess shook her head. “No, baby, I thought you knew. Little people can’t go into intensive care.”
    Callie swallowed hard and bit her lip. “No, I didn’t know.”
    “Well, you’ll have to get someone to watch him. I’m sorry, honey.” Jess gave her another big hug. “Don’t you worry,” she whispered again, “your daddy’s going to be just fine.”
     
    Henry refused to get back in the car. He squirmed and kicked and finally pulled his hand free, and then, before she could stop him, he ran headlong into the lamppost and fell back onto the hot pavement, holding his head and screaming at the top of his lungs.
    “What is the matter with you?” Callie shouted. “Get up, for God’s sake. What are you doing?” She wrenched his arm, pulled him to his feet, and shook him. “Look, Henry, cut it out! I can’t take it anymore!” she shouted. “I just can’t take it anymore!” Henry stomped his feet and began to slap his ears violently. “Stop!” she commanded, grabbing his wrists. “Stop doing that! Why can’t you just be normal?” Callie heard the words spilling from her mouth but couldn’t believe she was saying them. Henry fell into a heap next to the car, wrapped his arms around his knees, and rocked back and forth, whimpering.
    “Is everything okay, Miss?” Callie looked up and saw an older gentleman crossing the parking lot toward them.
    “Yes, we’re fine,” she answered, scooping Henry up. “We’re just going for a walk.” The man nodded and stood with his hands in the pockets of his white coat and watched them cross the street.
    As they passed through the gates of the nearby cemetery, Callie wondered again why cemeteries in New England always seemed to be across from hospitals. It certainly wasn’t a very promising scene for patients who looked out their windows or for the family members who kept watch at their bedsides. Callie pictured the early colonists carrying their deceased loved ones down the grassy hill and wondered if the cemetery’s proximity to the hospital had everything to do with convenience. She put Henry down, and he wandered along between the sun-bleached headstones. To her surprise, he stayed near.
    They came