“Dad,” Jim positioned the nail in his mouth carefully moving it around so he could respond at the top of the ladder,
“Hmph?” he replied, banging the last nail into the shingle and removing the one pursed between his lips.
“Dad, that ladder is real tall,”
“Yeah Phil, it is, did you need something?” He was trying to hide the annoyance in his voice, the fall wind whipping his hair in his face. He only had a few more shingles to replace before it was game time, and then time to make dinner while Pam taught one of her art classes.
“Um,” Phil moved his ball cap up and down on his head, attempting to remember what it was he was sent for outside in the first place.
“C’mon buddy, I need to finish this before Mom has to leave,”
His eyes widened, “Oh that’s right, Mom said you need to come inside, something about Cece,”
“Right now?” he let out a sigh. Work had been insane the past few weeks, new contracts, new contacts, and deals that kept him late at work almost every evening. These rare moments he had to fix a few things on the house, or slip away with Pam upstairs for a few perfect moments together, or time to throw the ball around with the kids-he cherished. Today though, today he was tired. He slept terribly the night before (a certain eight year old boy made his way into the center of his bed), the roof decided to leak after a rainstorm right into their master bedroom, and the kids had eaten the last of his bagels, and to be honest, he was kind of annoyed by it.
“Jim!” he closed his eyes as he heard the hollar from inside the house, that was his cue to go.
“Told you,” Phil laughed, and ran into the house, Jim in tow behind him.
He slipped his boots off inside the door, and hung up his well loved Phillies hat on the rack in their mudroom. Pam moved quickly to the door frame, her cheeks flushed, and not in the way he loved after they’d been together, but with concerned brows and beads of sweat on her forehead.
“What’s going on?” His own eyebrows met toward the brim of his nose, as he pulled her toward him.
“Something’s wrong with Cece,” when Philip ran by, a dinosaur figure in each hand, she quieted her voice, “she’s been sick all morning, throwing up, complaining her stomach hurts, and I went upstairs and she’s burning up,”
“She’s got a bug, Pam,” he let his arms drop, “she probably just needs to sleep,”
“Jim,” her eyes met his with a serious note, “I told her about the trip to Scranton for Thanksgiving,” she bit her lip, “she didn’t say a thing,”
He broke her gaze and motioned toward the stairs. “I’m going to go check on her,”
It’s genetic he tried to push these thoughts out of his head as he bounded up the stairs, two at a time. she’s just a little girl
He found her leaning over her bed, the bathroom trash can at her feet, and her head was nearing the entrance.
“Cece,” he stood in the door frame, she didn’t move,
“Cecelia,” he lowered his voice to get her attention. When she lifted her head up to look at him, she was drenched in her own sweat, her face pale and grey.
“What’s going-” it was in a moment that she had been seated upright and suddenly was on the floor, before she could hit her head, his hand had made its way under it and he’d scooped her up. “Honey,” he shook her slightly with no response.
“Babe, get the keys,” he curled her small frame toward him, bounding downstairs, “I think it’s her appendix,”
“Shouldn’t I just call an ambulance?”
“I’m faster, just throw me the keys, stay here with Phil, and I’ll call you as soon as we’re there,”
Pam’s eyes bulged, “do not drive her, you shouldn’t be driving right now, I’m going to call 911,”
Before she could stop him, he’d headed out into the autumn morning, and into their car, covering Cece’s tiny body in the backseat, his breaks squealed as he peeled out the driveway.
She grabbed her cellphone and made a quick phone call, “Phil, grab some underwear and a toothbrush,” she called out to her youngest.
“Where are we going?”
“Come on, let’s go.”
***
He paced. Black coffee in one hand, his car keys in the other as he moved back and forth through the waiting room of the children’s hospital. The other individuals in the lobby seemed calmer, less anxious, less...like terrible parents.
“Daddy it hurts,”
“It’s a stomach ache Cece, you have to go to school,”
“But I don’t feel good,” she whined from the passenger's side of his car, staring at the trees passing on their regular carpool to her school.
“You’re not throwing up, you don’t have a fever, you have to go to school” he glanced at her,
“Besides, when you get out, I promise you I’d show you how to throw that curve ball.” he gave her a smile.
She didn’t move her face from the glass, just rested her forehead against the cold, closing her eyes. “I don’t care about softball, Dad.” she muttered.
“Yes you do, you girls are doing great this season,”
“I suck,”
“You don’t suck, you’re learning,”
“Well I’ve been learning for five years, and I suck” she gave him a cold glance.
“You’re doing great, Mom and I are so proud of you, and all the work you’ve put in, it’s a hard game”
“It’s not hard for Phil,” it was muffled,
“That’s baseball,”
“Yeah, and that’s wayharder!” It had come out louder than she’d intended and it was there turn in the lane for her to get out of the car.
“That’s not what I meant,” she had already grabbed her backpack and moved to open the door.
“You and Phil are great at sports, I’m not Dad. Okay? I’m bad at them, and I don’t like it, and I don’t like that you’re making me do it,” her voice trailed off at the end somewhere down her throat, and was caught. He saw her eyes glimmer with tears before shutting the car door and not looking back.
He pressed his fingers to his nose pushing as hard as he could before a loud honking behind him took him out of his trance to take him to his office.
“I am an awful father,” his hand was in his hands, his shirt untucked and strands of hair frantically stood out.
“You’re not an awful father,” Pam took a sip of his now cold coffee, made a face, and sat it down on the side table. It had only taken her fifteen minutes of coaxing to get her husband to relax and sit down.
“She told me she was sick, I should have listened to her,”
“Jim, that was two days ago, we didn’t know. It’s not your fault,”
He continued to shake his head, rubbing his hands vigorously over his face, his clear show of anxiety.
“Listen, the doctor said she’s going to be totally fine, it’s a simple procedure and she’ll-”
He sat up quickly, looking at her, and for the first time in a long time, she saw tears in his eyes.
“Jim?” her voice softened, and she moved her legs toward his attempting to get as close as she could to him without moving into his own chair.
“When we got here,” he coughed, he wiped the side of his face, “she was asleep, and they gave her pain medication and they just took her away and,”
She made no move to speak.
“Nope. Nope,” Jim stood, walking toward the glass windows, it had become dusk so quickly, winter was approaching.
Pam waited a second before joining him by the window. His forehead was leaving a small condensation smudge on the glass.
“She’s going to be okay,” it was barely a whisper,
“She’s angry with me, I haven’t been listening to her at all,”
“What?” she scrunched her nose,
“I’m not listening to her, Pam. I’m not hearing her,” he turned to his wife, “she hates softball. She’s probably hated it for the last few years and I haven’t paid close enough attention to even notice it. And then this?” his voice lifted, “She told me she was sick, and I just ignored it, and talked to her about sports and I just,” his fist pounded the glass; stares met his eyes from others in the room.
“It’s different with her,” he let the drops fall, the corners of his mouth turning downward, and this boyish Jim in front of her was unfamiliar and unsettling, and yet she loved him even all the more for it. She pulled his tall frame into hers, and wrapped her arms underneath his arms and held him close.
“You’re a good Dad,” she whispered to him, “She loves you, so much.” Pam’s hand softened the back of his hair.
“I don’t feel like one. What if something happens? What if-”
“Mr. and Mrs. Halpert?” their eyes moved to the open doors, “You can come back and see your daughter now, she’s starting to wake up,” a soft smile was on the doctors’ face as she turned and led them back.
