Chapter 26 - THE RAIN WALK
A year later, Noah asked to see the route he had walked to the hospital.
Emily did not love the idea.
His therapist supported it if he wanted.
They invited me.
I almost declined.
I was not family.
Then Noah asked specifically.
So I joined for part.
We began near the old neighborhood.
Not the exact house.
Emily had sold her interest and moved.
Rain threatened but did not fall.
Noah wore a proper jacket.
At the first corner, he said:
“I stopped here.”
“How do you know?”
“Red mailbox.”
Half a mile later:
“I threw up by that tree.”
Emily took his hand.
He pulled away.
Then immediately looked guilty.
She smiled.
“You don’t have to hold my hand.”
He nodded.
At the steep block before the hospital, Noah stopped.
“I almost went back.”
“Why didn’t you?” Emily asked.
He thought.
“The sign.”
“What sign?”
The blue H hospital sign glowing beyond the intersection.
“I could see it.”
Then:
“I thought doctors have rules.”
I laughed softly.
“We do.”
“What rule made you help?”
“No rule made me.”
He frowned.
“Then why?”
“Because you needed help.”
He seemed dissatisfied by simplicity.
Children sometimes expect rescue to require secret codes.
It does not.
At the ER entrance, the automatic doors opened.
Warm air.
Noah stopped.
11:38 p.m. existed in my head.
Not his.
He said:
“They look smaller.”
“Doors?”
“Everything.”
He was ten now.
May you like
Taller.
Maybe that was all.
