Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Dribbles - 27. No Flash
“Ow. Ow. Ow.” Evin slammed the oven door shut with his knee while simultaneously dropping the cookie sheet of charred teething biscuits into the sink. He turned on the cold water, fanning the air desperately to try and get rid of the thick fog of black smoke. It didn’t help nearly enough, so he opened the window even though it was pouring down rain. He wanted to stick his hand out in the frigid drops to ease the fiery burning, but he didn’t have time.
He ran into the living room and grabbed Micah from the mess of blocks scattered on the floor. “I know, little man.” He grit his teeth and smacked at the shrieking fire alarm in the hallway with the side of his hand until it shut off. Cradling his son with his good hand and trying to protect the other, he hurried into Micah’s room.
Thankfully they hadn’t been asleep long, and Micah was still clean and dry. Evin dropped to his knees awkwardly and tried buckling Micah in his car seat one-handed while his son was still crying. Sweat dripped into his eyes. He finally clicked the last damn buckle in and threw a blanket over top, pissing Micah off even more.
“Just give me a minute, little man, and the dark will go away.” He swept up the diaper bag by the door and was nearly gone before he remember the open window… and he left the oven on! “Shit,” he said under his breath. “I mean, shoot.”
He set Micah down and then took care of the kitchen so they wouldn’t come home to a burned down, flooded, or ransacked home.
On the way to the hospital, Evin held his hand over the passenger seat, barely able to stand the air moving from the defroster keeping the windows from fogging. The pain from the burn on his hand was so bad he felt like he was going to throw up.
But that would mean pulling over, which would set Micah off again. Evin really didn’t want that. He grit his teeth and kept driving, glad the hospital was only a few more miles away. Walking in with his son screaming his head off, the smell of burned biscuits, and his eyes tearing up—from the sweat—was a lesson in humility.
Evin had been taking care of Micah his whole life, all by himself. But the kind nurse who checked him in had offered to get Micah out of his seat and even dug in the diaper bag when Evin couldn’t find his wallet, pulling out a small container of the last few teething biscuits he had left.
“Can I give him one of these?” she asked. Micah was sitting on Evin’s knee, one of his fists in his mouth as he gnawed and drooled.
“Yes, please.” Evin fished out his insurance card and handed that over along with his ID. Signing the paperwork with his burn was impossible. He scribbled something left-handed and then was taken back immediately.
“It’s pretty slow in here, and I can see you need some help. Is your wife coming?” the nurse asked. Micah, busy with his biscuit, didn’t object when she carried him. She set the diaper bag down on the end of a bed and gestured for Evin to get in.
“It’s just us.”
He guessed she saw a lot of different situations in the ER, because she didn’t even raise an eyebrow. “Well, okay then. I’ll be just right over there, so if you need anything, holler. Or this little guy will, I’m sure.” She tickled Micah’s cheek and gave him that soft little smile most women seemed to have for pudgy babies—especially when they were hiding their demon side by looking cute in public.
Even though they were taken back to the examination area fast, the doctor was taking his sweet time getting to him. The pain in Evin’s hand felt like he still had it in the oven, and huge yellow, puffy blisters had formed on the front and back.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Perez. I see you burn—” Ben stopped.
They hadn’t seen each other in a long time. Not since Ben was in medical school, and Evin was graduating with a business degree. Evin certainly never expected to see him here.
“Burned my hand,” he finished. “Yeah, and it really hurts.” Plus Micah was on his third biscuit and getting fussy again. He probably needed to be changed, and then would fall asleep for the afternoon, just so he could keep Evin up all night again.
Ben stared at him, his gaze dropping down to Micah, and then back up. “What happened to you?”
Did he mean how Evin probably had aged ten years since he bailed right before graduation, the last night they’d spoken? Gone was the bright, glittery guy who lit up the room in a flash, and this version of himself was all Evin knew how to be anymore. It was probably a disappointment; his hair was cut short, he was in a blue t-shirt and a pair of sweats. Nothing at all like how Ben probably remembered him.
Was he wondering how in the hell Evin had a kid, since he’d never even kissed a girl—at least before when Ben knew him.
Or had he brushed off their history, leaving Evin was the only one thinking about how the years had changed them—Ben definitely for the better. He was probably asking about how Evin got the burn. He was a professional after all, and Evin was just another patient.
In the end, it all came down to just one thing.
“Teething.”
- 6
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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