“You shouldn’t worry about such things,” I said.
“Do you think Tony’s going to be all right?”
“I hope so.”
“Me too.”
She reached over, took my hand.92: Something’s Not Right
How are you, Little T.?
He stared at me with dark, unreadable eyes.
Did you have a good sleep?
He glanced around at the plastic tenting that enclosed him, seemed confused, unsure where he was.
It was late evening now. Visiting hours would soon be over, and the hallway outside had become much quieter. Jackson had taken the others home to clean up and have a bite to eat. I had remained, seated next to Tony’s bed, watching him as he slept. His temperature had gone down to 101 earlier in the day, but now the monitor said it was 102.
I’m going to tell J. to bring your teddy. Would you like that?
He did not answer, did not seem to understand me. His eyes were full of pain.