Unforgettable: Always 2 (18 page)

I laughed, holding Amanda’s gaze. “Of course it doesn’t. And neither do my stunning good looks and God-like strength.”

Raph chuckled. “Yeah, I’m complete amazed by those.”

A moment of silence passed between us – the silence of two guys sharing a shit situation. The silence of support and understanding.

And then Raph let out a short sigh. “When Maci wakes, we’ll grab some breakfast and come to the hospital, if you want. She’d love to meet Tanner, if we’re allowed?”

“Sure,” I answered. Inside my chest, my heart clenched at the thought of introducing my son to my friends. How many days, weeks would I have left to do that? If we didn’t find a match soon, would I even get the chance to introduce him to my family? My brother? Would he ever meet Uncle Ben? Or Heather? Heather would go nuts over him. I could see her now, damn near hyperventilating over how cheeky and gorgeous he was. Heather would play Transformers with him without hesitation. Knowing her, she’d do all the voices of all the characters and Tanner would fall completely in love with her before the game was …

A soft thumb stroking my cheek made me blink. My vision was blurring, fuzzy. My cheeks were wet. What the? I was crying? When the hell had I started crying? Amanda was smiling up at me, grief and love in her face.

In my ear, Raph called my name. “Hey, Osmond? Talk to me, dude. You okay?”

Ah fuck. Fuck, I was crumbling. I was crumbling. “I’m here, Jones,” I croaked back. Amanda touched my cheek again before sliding her arms around my waist and drawing our bodies close together, her head nestling under my chin. “But I gotta … I gotta go. Sorry.”

Another beat of silence from Raphael and then he said, “No apologies needed, mate. We’ll call you when we get to the hospital, okay?”

I nodded, my throat too tight to form words. I hung up and shoved my phone into my back pocket and then wrapped my arms around Amanda, pressed my face to the top of her head and surrendered to the raw sobs tearing at my soul.

Guys don’t do public displays of emotional weakness. We’re told from a young age boys don’t cry. We grow up believing we can’t let anyone see how we’re feeling, unless it’s an emotional response to a sporting event. We can cry in public when our team wins. That’s okay, expected even, but cry because of a pain in our hearts? Nope. Not on.

But I stood there in the hospital corridor, just outside the door leading into the Oncology department, holding Amanda in a hug that on reflection was probably crushing her ribs, and sobbed. I guess if there’s ever a place a guy can cry without censure, it’s in the children’s hospital where his son is a patient.

I don’t know how long we stood there, but eventually I got myself under control. When I pulled away, chest heaving, head throbbing, Amanda threaded her fingers into the hair at the back of my head and gazed up into my face. “I love you, Bren,” she whispered.

I swallowed. I wish I could say the unexpected, emotional outpouring had been cathartic, but truthfully, I felt drained. Raw. Beaten.

“C’mon,” she continued, stroking her thumbs over my cheeks again, her smile warm. “Let’s go find our happy.”

A few minutes later, we walked into Tanner’s room. He was awake, lying on his side, thumb in his mouth, watching a cartoon on the plasma screen. The oxygen tube feeding into his nose was green today, the tape securing it to his cheek a vivid purple. His skin was ashen, the dark smudges under his eyes speaking of a pain I couldn’t begin to fathom. He looked thinner, peaky. It made no sense that in the few hours we’d been away he could drop so much weight – all my study on the human body told me so – but he looked thinner. His Spiderman PJs seemed to swim on him. His breath left him in a rasping wheeze.

Amanda’s fingers tightened around mine. I looked at her, the terror on her face eating at me.

“Mommy!” Tanner’s happy cry scratched at my sanity. It was so full of love and yet so weak, so fragile.

I turned to him, my smile real.

“Hey, tough guy,” Amanda murmured, crossing to him. “Whatcha watching?”

He struggled into a sitting position, the IV in his arm whacking the railing on the side of his bed. His little arms went up, his gaze full of love and joy locked on Amanda’s face. “Bews cues,” he answered, wriggling his fingers in that wholly kid way of saying “Pick me up, pick me up, please.”

Amanda did, lifting him from the bed and snuggling into the side of his neck with tentative care. “
Blue’s Clues
, eh?” She made some kind of noise. I have no hope of describing it here. Like a
ba-ba-bee-boo
kind of thing. Whatever it was, it made Tanner laugh.

“Mommy,” he repeated, wrapping his arms around her head.

I’ve never seen, nor do I ever think I will see, such open, honest and true love as what I saw on Tanner’s face right then. It was beautiful. Profound.

And it tore me apart, made me furious at Charles Sinclair and his sickening legal intent.

“Da.”

At Tanner’s weak voice, at his tired smile for me, I forced down my anger, and walked over to them.

“G’day, buddy,” I touched his cheek. “Where’s Optimus?”

A spark of excitement flared in his eyes. “Oppimus.”

Movement in the corner of the room drew my attention. Chase was curled into a ball on one of the chairs, her knees tucked under her chin, her eyes closed. She squirmed about a little, rubbing at one of her eyes, and then wriggled deeper into the seat. Her hair today was the same color as Tanner’s oxygen tube.

It dawned on me her hair and his tube had been matching colors yesterday as well. Was this a thing she did? To help him feel connected to her? To make him smile?

Whatever the reason, if she hadn’t still been asleep, I would have walked over to her and hugged her. She would have groused and offered some kind of snarky comment about my hugging skills, but I would have hugged her anyway.

If life was as unfair and unjust as I was beginning to fear it was, Tanner may never get the chance to meet his Uncle Ben, but at least he’d known his Aunty Chase. And Aunty Chase was awesome.

At the sound of soft footfalls, both Amanda and I turned. A nurse entered the room, her smile wide and warm.

“Hi Amanda,” she said, keeping her voice low. “This must be Tanner’s dad?”

“Da.” Tanner pointed a finger at me. The IV tube clacked against the railing of his cot. “M’ da.”

The nurse raised her eyebrows in delighted surprise. “Oh, he’s
your
daddy?” she asked, her smile stretching.

Tanner nodded. “Da. Da da.”

Yeah. It felt good.

“Gemma,” Amanda placed a hand on my arm, “this is Brendon.”

Gemma turned her kilowatt-smile on me. “Brendon. You look better in the flesh than your photo.”

A dry chuckle tickled my throat. “The one of me asleep in Tanner’s bed?”

Gemma shook her head. “No, the one on Amanda’s phone. The one she shows Tanner every day.”

Oh man. For reasons I can’t explain, that felt just as good. Heart thumping hard in my throat, I gave Amanda a sideways look.

She shrugged, a light in her eyes I absolutely loved. Who was I kidding? I loved everything about her. Always had. Always would.

“How long has Tall, Colorful and Snarky been here for?” she asked Gemma, nodding toward the still sleeping Chase.

“Since four-thirty. She came in saying she couldn’t sleep at home and just wanted to be with her nephew. Tanner had a rough night, so it was good she was here. They’ve been watching cartoons.” A gentle chuckle bubbled up from her. “Well, Tanner has, haven’t you, champ? I think Chase fell asleep after the third
Blue’s Clues
episode.”

“Bews Cues,” Tanner agreed.

“How
rough
a night?” Worry filled Amanda’s voice. She drew Tanner closer to her, pressing her lips to his temple.

Gemma waved a hand I’m assuming was meant to convey a sense of calm. “He needed some medication for pain and was nauseous. The symptoms have settled down somewhat. And now you’re both here …”

A bitter sigh caught in my throat. If only our appearance at our son’s side could deal with his leukemia.

Amanda made a hitching moan, frustration twisting her face as she kissed Tanner’s temple again. “I should have been here,” she murmured, smoothing her hand over his head. “Chase should have—”

“Done exactly what she did,” Gemma interrupted, her voice tender. “Be an excellent aunt and a caring, loving sister. You need to be well to help Tanner be well, and you can’t do that if you’re not sleeping or decompressing. You know that, Amanda. Dr. Waters has spoken to you about it. As has the hospital counselor.”

Amanda slumped. I could see guilt eating at her. Self-doubt. Fear. Was she thinking of her father and his intention to claim her unfit? Was Charles’ threat now unraveling her?

The urge to find him and tell him exactly what I thought of him surged through me again. Followed just as quickly by the memory of what Amanda and I had spent the morning doing. What would Charles do if he knew while Chase sat with her sick nephew, Amanda and I were at her home, in her bed, lost to a moment of connection … lost to the beauty of our love for each other?

Guilt lashed at me and I drew in a slow breath, smoothing my hand up Amanda’s back.

Is this what she lived with every day since Tanner’s diagnosis? This guilt, this self-doubt and self-judgment over any moment of stolen normality?

Her words of yesterday morning, after Chase had revealed I was a father, came back to me.

I just wanted a little bit of normalcy for a moment. I wanted to pretend we were nothing but two young people reconnecting …

Something like that. A moment of normalcy. Making love to her this morning, being with her, had felt so perfect, so normal. As I’d lost myself to the pleasure of her body moving beneath mine, of the exquisite heat of her sex enveloping mine, for a moment, just one moment, our life hadn’t been about our sick son. It had been about us, about rebirth.

Even as guilt lanced me now, I recognized the truth in Gemma’s words. Amanda did need to decompress. And if Charles tried to use that against her, I would do everything to make his life a living hell.

“Ose, Mommy?”

“There you go,” Gemma murmured, a smile in her voice. “Someone’s hungry.”

Amanda raised her head from Tanner’s and gave him a quizzical grin. “Do you want some toast, tough guy?”

He nodded. “Ose, pees.” His expression turned solemnly serious. “And cookie.”

Gemma laughed. Chase stretched, and yawned. Smacked her lips and scratched her belly. “I’ll have a cookie too, please,” she mumbled, eyes still closed.

“Cookie!” Tanner repeated. “Cookie, Aunny Chase.”

Amanda hugged him a bit closer. “
Toast
we can do.”

Her eyes shone with unshed tears. I could feel my own prickling at the back of my eyes.

“Egemite,” Tanner crowed, pressing his hands to either side of her face to make her look at him. “Egemite.”

“Yuck,” Chase grumbled from the seat, now sitting more upright, her eyes half open. “Not that disgusting stuff.”

The fact my son was trying to say Vegemite made me want to swoop him out of Amanda’s arms and swing him around in glee.

Hot resolve and stubborn determination licked through me. One day, I would.

“Ose, Mommy.” Tanner pressed her cheeks firmer, his brow furrowed with serious intensity. “Egemite ose.”

Amanda sighed. “Baby, you know you can’t have Vegemite toast here.”

Tanner’s frown grew fiercer. His breathing grew wheezier. “Ose, Mommy,” he repeated, the words shaky. “Egemite ose.”

Amanda shook her head, smoothing her hand over his head. “Baby, we can’t …”

“Ose, Mommy,” Tanner said again, although this time the words weren’t just shaky but thick with tears. “Ose, ose.” And then he threw himself against her, crying.

“Oh, baby,” Amanda cradled him closer, gently swinging side to side. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. We’ll have toast when you’re better, okay? When we can go home. Okay?”

“Home,” he mumbled against the side of her neck, even as he shook his head. “’Sokay. Home now peez? Home?”

Fuck, I had to drive my blunt nails into my palms, I had to hurt myself to stop from crying. I’d known him for such a short time, and I’d seen his strength, his childlike joy and happiness, and that had torn me apart. But standing here, listening to my son plead to go home …

Fuck, I couldn’t …

Chase jolted to her feet, glaring at her sister. Her eyes were glistening. Without uttering a word, she signed something at Amanda, walked over to Tanner and, with a kiss on the back of the head, left the room.

“What is she …?” I looked at the door Chase had just stomped through. Back to Amanda. “Where’s she …?”

Eyes closed, Amanda pressed her lips to Tanner’s temple. “She’s going to the cafeteria to get some toast.
After
she drives back to my place to get the Vegemite from the kitchen counter.”

Remember when I said I wanted to hug Chase? I wanted to run after her and do it even more.

“Home,” Tanner mumbled, clinging to Amanda. Tears tracked his pale cheeks, followed the plastic tube of his oxygen supply and pooled there. “Home peez?”

“Soon, tough guy,” Amanda whispered, her gaze finding mine, her own cheeks wet. “Soon, I promise. All three of us, going home soon.”

Tanner raised his head from her shoulder, cupped her face in his hands again, and frowned at her. “Pomiss?”

She nodded. “Promise.”

Until that point, I didn’t think I could hurt in the heart any more than I had. I was wrong.

“Hey,” Amanda said suddenly, giving Tanner a little hitch on her hip and grinning widely at me. Pain still swam in her eyes. Raw and open. But her grin, it was wide and infectious. “Think we can sing the Spiderman song for Daddy?”

“Piderman!” He sang, the tears so recently falling from his eyes dropping from his cheeks. “Piderman! Piderman, tha a piderman!”

I laughed. Hidden in the happy sound was a cry.

And then Parker Waters walked into the room and I wanted to cry all over again.

My parents’ results were in. And neither of them were a match.

Chase arrived back with Tanner’s Vegemite toast to find Tanner asleep in his bed. Amanda was also asleep, her arm curled around our son, holding him to the curve of her body.

I sat in one of the chairs. Numb. Staring at nothing.

Amanda and I had talked about what our next move was. I’d raised Robby Aames’ name. What other option did we have? She’d studied me silently for a long second, and then looked away.

She’d fallen asleep before answering me. I know it’s selfish to admit this, but even though Aames’ almost-matching bone marrow looked like our only option, I didn’t have it in me to mention it again.

My phone had buzzed more than once, vibrating away in my pocket, but I’d ignored it every time. I didn’t want to speak to anyone. There was nothing to say.

Before Parker had finished giving us the news, sorrow etched on his face, Amanda’s phone had chirped in her handbag with an incoming message. Like me, she’d ignored it. Until Parker left.

Then, her actions somehow automatic, like the essence of her had been shelled out and replaced with a machine, she’d passed Tanner to me, retrieved her phone and stared at its screen.

And a second after that, threw it across the room.

It had smashed against the wall, shattering into shards of glass and electronic bits. Tanner had burst out laughing. I’d echoed his laugh, hoping to hell Amanda could see what I was doing: hiding my grief from him.

“Uh-oh,” I’d chuckled, grinning at him, “Mummy’s dropped her phone.”

“Uh-oh,” he’d agreed, pulling a someone’s-gonna-get-in-trouble face.

Amanda had stood motionless for a long moment, staring at nothing. And then, hand pressed to her mouth, she’d turned to us. Her eyes had grown comically wide above her hand, her shoulders had risen comically high beside her head, and then she’d dropped her hand and gave us both a very playful smile. “Uh-oh. Mommy’s clumsy.”

Tanner had laughed again.

A little after that, after all three of us had played with Optimus Prime for a while and Tanner had begrudgingly eaten a small bowl of porridge, Gemma returned and helped Amanda give Tanner a bath.

I offered to leave the room, but they both smiled at me; Amanda’s an empty sad one, while Gemma’s eyes clearly said “this is where you need to be”.

She was correct. Aren’t most nurses? My mother would say so.

Tanner thought the whole thing was lots of fun and did his best to get me as wet as he could. I did my best to hide my grief at the sight of his naked body. He was so thin, and the bruises I’d seen on his arms yesterday also marred his legs and chest.

But even as my mind processed the sight of the sickness obviously winning the battle for ownership of his body, my heart, my soul reveled in the delight of his laughter as he tried to splash me. And yes, he coughed a lot every time he laughed, but his eyes shone with happiness.

I told my mind to remember those eyes, that happiness. I told it nothing mattered right now but imprinting those eyes and the happiness in them on my subconscious.

A little after the bath, Tanner began rubbing his eyes and yawning. A little after that, Amanda climbed onto his bed, stretched out and asked him if he’d give his mommy a hug.

He damn near leapt from my arms, and giggling and yawning at the same time he stretched out beside her.

If I’d counted to ten, they both would have been asleep before I’d hit five. I lowered myself into the seat, slumped into it, and breathed. Just breathed. My phone buzzed twice more, but I ignored it. The two people I needed to exist with were right in front of me.

Chase walked through the door an indeterminate length of time later. By the shadows in the room, it had to be at least an hour later, maybe longer.

“Hey,” she began, and then slapped her hand to her mouth when I put a finger to my lips.

“They asleep?” she continued, mouthing the words silently.

I nodded.

She crossed to the table, the distinct smell of fresh toast accompanying her. “Toast,” she mouthed, holding up a brown paper bag with one hand. “And this.” She held up the jar of Vegemite with the other, before making a gagging motion.

I gave her a small smile.

Placing the toast and jar of Vegemite on the table, she frowned at me. She signed something at me. I don’t think she realized she’d done it until I frowned back at her.

With a grunt, and a roll of her eyes, so like her sister’s I almost chuckled, she whispered, “What’s wrong?”

Without moving, I shook my head. “Neither Mum or Dad are a match,” I answered, my voice a low, croaky rumble.

Her frowned deepened. “Say that again,” she instructed, her hands moving again.

I realized I was speaking too low for her to hear and because I’d mumbled, she most likely hadn’t been able to pick up what I was saying via the movement of my lips.

Getting to my feet, I came over to where she stood. “Neither Mum or Dad,” I said a little louder, making sure I articulated the words, “are a match.”

Her stare jerked from my lips up to my eyes. She caught her bottom lip with her teeth in a move, once again, so like her sister’s it was surreal. “Fuck,” she muttered.

I nodded. “Fuck,” I repeated. I felt … hollow.

“So now,” she whispered, “is probably not a good time to tell you Dad is on his way here?”

The air vanished. Like that, there wasn’t a breath I could draw. Just an encompassing thrumming of something dark and angry. I was going to be face to face with Charles Sinclair soon. What were the odds I was going to be deported from the US for breaking a professor’s nose?

No. I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. With what he was trying to do – and I didn’t give a rat’s arse if it
was
because he loved his grandson and only wanted what was best for him and Amanda – the last thing I could afford to do was revert to base caveman violence. Even if it was to protect the two people I loved the most.

The irony of the situation did not escape me. I’d spent almost every day of my life since adolescence honing my body to one of peak physical perfection and strength. I’d spent the last seven years studying every aspect of what it means to be physically and mentally healthy. And all my strength, all my rippling muscles, all my fucking knowledge, served me no good at all. Life had proved once and for all that no matter how much control I thought I had over my existence, my purpose, I had none. Amanda’s father was going to be standing in front of me, and I was going to look back at him and do nothing. I had no doubt that any raised voice, any show of physical strength, even if it was just a balled fist on my behalf, would be twisted into evidence that I wasn’t fit to be Tanner’s father. It may not work, but Charles would try.

I’d never felt so useless.

At Chase’s soft touch on my hand, I shook my head and let out a wobbly breath. “Can you stay here for a bit?” I asked, making sure she was looking up at me.

“Where are you going?”

I let out a dry grunt of a chuckle. “I just need … I just need to go clear my head.”

She frowned, and then nodded. “’Sokay.”

Huh, so that’s where Tanner got the word. I was at the door when a hand touched mine again. I turned, finding Chase behind me. Before I could ask what she wanted, she showed me. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around my shoulders and hugged me.

“I’m sorry I was horrible to you before,” she said against the side of my head. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to Mandy, like, ever.”

She released me and stepped back, her cheeks pink.

I looked at her, my stomach tight. “Why, Chase Sinclair,” I said, “did you just pay me a compliment?”

She poked her tongue out at me, rolled her eyes and flipped me the bird. “Yep.”

Chase Sinclair, everyone. There’s no one like her anywhere on the planet.

I left the room and walked the corridor of the Oncology ward, past rooms containing other children like my own, fighting an insidious illness that didn’t care it was killing a little person who hadn’t had the chance to truly live yet.

I passed the nurses station. Gemma smiled at me, so did the other nurses. Nurses I hadn’t met. Nurses who were no doubt assigned to those other children.

I kept walking. Out of the ward. Through the corridor leading to the elevator. I rode the elevator with a family whose son was a patient in the Burns Unit. They talked among themselves about his recovery, about when he was coming home. How his little sister would have to be careful for a while because his skin would be tender and still sore if scruffed up too much. His little sister complained, saying she missed wrestling with her brother.

I stood and listened and suppressed the need to slam my fist against the wall. Her little brother was going home soon. Sometime next week. I didn’t even know if my son was going to be alive sometime next week.

When the elevator stopped on the next floor, I left it and walked the short distance to the stairwell door, yanking it open. I was still on the eighth floor. Eight floors of stairs to run down.

Run.

I needed to run.

Now.

I took the stairs two at a time. My heart pounded. My pulse did the same. A deafening cacophony of pumping blood in my head that didn’t come close to drowning out the fear and anger and terror in there. I ran, not gripping the rail, the sound of my feet on the concrete stairs like a cannon blasting over and over, echoing up and down the musty well, bouncing off the walls to slam back into me.

And still, I couldn’t drown out the roaring in my head.

I ran down to the ground floor, fighting to ignore the voices in my head, Charles’s snide contempt, the constant unsuccessful blood tests, Parker stating we were at a critical stage … Death laughing at my hopes, my optimism …

I slammed into the door leading out into the main foyer, stumbling into the white marble-tiled space. Clean, disinfected air replaced the musty air in my lungs, wrapping around me, cooling the beads of sweat on my forehead, the back of my neck. I staggered to a stop, not really seeing the foyer. My brain, wired on adrenaline and futile rage, demanded I keep running. To not stop.

Instead, I bent over, pressed my palms to my knees and stared at the white marble under my feet. I wasn’t physically drained. I wasn’t even close to physically exhausted. An eight-story stair run is the equivalent of a warm-up for me, especially a descending stair run. But for whatever reason, I couldn’t find my breath properly. It was as if all the crap of the last twenty-four hours had been rammed into my chest, my lungs, and all I could do was stare at the floor between my feet and suffocate.

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know where to go. For the first time in my life, I was crippled. Shut down. There was nothing in front of me except a bleak future I couldn’t grin or joke my way out of. It didn’t matter how many bench presses I did, Tanner still had leukemia. I could perform a hundred burpees, a thousand bicep curls, a million lat pull-downs, and my son would still have cancer, and his grandfather would still try and take him away from us.

Dark swirls of nothingness formed in my vision. My head began to swim. I closed my eyes, digging my fingers into my knees and gritting my teeth. Everything I’d achieved in my life, and I still couldn’t—

“Brendon?” a familiar female voice called. “Is that you?”

I raised my head, and wished to fucking hell I hadn’t. Amanda’s mother was at the reception desk, curiosity on her face as she watched me across the distance.

Dropping my head again, I dug my fingers harder into my knees for a second, drew in the deepest breath I could, and then straightened to find Jacqueline now directly in front of me.

“Jacqui,” I said, fighting to keep my voice calm.

If Jacqueline was here, Charles wouldn’t be far away. Did she know what he was doing? Did he have her blessing? Was she a part of it? The attempt to tear my family apart?

My
family – me, Amanda and Tanner. My family.

A wave of fury crashed over me, so thick it was palpable. This woman’s husband was trying to destroy my family. Was trying to—

“Oh Brendon,” she murmured. And then she took that final step between us and wrapped her arms around me. “Brendon, I’m sorry.”

I fought with myself, with the desire to surrender to the hug and the urge to shove her away. Jacqueline had
always
been a fan of mine. She’d welcomed me into her home the first time I came to the States with Amanda. She’d engaged me in conversation when Charles refused to acknowledge my existence. She’d asked about my degrees, my studies, my future plans, scolding her husband for his passive-aggressive reaction to them.

But that was before Amanda fell pregnant. Before I disappeared from her life. Before Tanner. Before his diagnosis. Who was she now, this woman hugging me? I didn’t know.

And still, despite the war raging inside me, I slid my hands over her back and hugged her in return. It’s funny how screwed up we can get, isn’t it?

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again against my shoulder. “I tried to tell him he’s being …”

I didn’t hear what she said next. My brain, my every molecule had shifted focus.

Charles Sinclair had walked through the main doors into the foyer. Was walking toward us. Was staring at me.

Curling my fingers gently around Jacqueline’s upper arms, I straightened from the embrace and moved her aside. I met his eyes. I didn’t look away.

Charles’s nostrils flared. He wore his go-to English Lit. professor uniform – tweed jacket and chinos – and a smug expression. Condescending. I wanted to smash it off his face.

“Charles,” Jacqueline dragged out his name in a warning.

He sneered, taking in my appearance from head to toe. There was no attempt to hide his contempt for me now. Open hostility etched his face.

“And this is why I’m doing what I’m doing, Jacqui,” he said, holding out a hand toward me, his eyes still locked on mine. “Do I need to reiterate the situation?”

I ground my teeth. Balled my fist. “Good morning to you, too, Charles.”

He flicked a glance at my clenched hand and snorted.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said, “I’m here to see my grandson. I’m here to
save
him.”