The Multitudes Within Me (Sequel to The Sound of Ice)

13

The hospital is huge. Much bigger than the one in St. Anne. A nurse guides me up the elevator to the pediatrics unit, long hallways decorated with children's' drawings and colorful paintings. Dr. Walters, Pierce's dad, was ecstatic when he heard I wanted to volunteer at the hospital.

"Since you aren't a pre-med student, and you aren't an intern, there's nothing too much medically you can assist with," says the nurse, walking quickly. She looks down at her clipboard and makes a hurried note. "So you'll just be talking and playing with the kids and their siblings. A lot of them, their parents aren't here all the time. And they can get pretty bored. Talking with them, reading them books... if anything happens, buzz in a nurse right away. Here's your tag."

She hands me a volunteer tag, and I clip it onto the chest of my long-sleeved shirt. No sweatshirt. Seemed unprofessional.

"And some kids, they're not as lively as others. Don't be frustrated if they don't want to play or talk with you that much. Got it?"

"Yes," I say.

The nurse smiles at me, tight-lipped and tired, and uncertainty floods my brain. What am I doing here?

The nurse drops me off in one of the waiting rooms. There are a few siblings crawling around on chairs, the parents exhausted, so I color with them. At first, I can't help but be anxious - the parents watching me - the aching smell of hospitals - but then I relax, a little, and color in a picture of a rainbow.

"Are you a doctor?" asks one boy who can't be more than four or five. He grips a green crayon tightly in his fist, sunlight pouring from the window and illuminating his rosy cheeks.

"No, I'm not a doctor. Just a student," I say, smiling at him. "Are you a doctor?"

The little boy laughs. "I'm just a kid!"

"Are you? I could've sworn you were a doctor."

"I'm just five!"

"Five! That's pretty old."

"How old are you?"

"I'm eighteen," I say. An adult. I wish I felt like one. "My name is Sam. What's your name?"

"Max," says the boy. "And I play soccer. I have a game tomorrow. Do you play soccer?"

I look up as a stretcher rolls by noisily, nurses talking loudly, a faint beep going off down the hallway - Max doesn't even falter. I guess everyone here, they're pretty used to it.

I clear my throat and pick up a blue crayon. "No, but I used to play soccer, back in middle school. I love soccer! I'm sure you're great at it."

God, the middle school soccer team - I had a crush on the goalie, and I was mean to him. I wanted it to go away. Sometimes, I think of the person I was when I was younger and can't even recognize myself.

"I am good," says Max. "My brother is good too. Willem. He's here right now, down the hall."

"How old is Willem?"

"He's ten. That's five years older than me. He got a nosebleed and mommy brought him here and now he has cancer. Do you know what cancer is?"

"Yeah, I do." I do. I do. I think of Tom, at home, maybe at the hospital right now, his veins heavy with medicine and feeling sick, and alone, and Veronica driving him home with her pink lip gloss and the radio turned down low, Tom in the passenger seat, wearing a flannel shirt, his eyes sinking down like they always do when he's tired, his head rolled to the side, feeling sick, and alone, watching grey St. Anne roll by out the window and thinking of me, thinking of the bookstore he would take me to when I was younger and the high school where he dropped me off in the morning, missing me, wondering if I missing him. I do miss him. Guilt swells in my chest. Maybe I shouldn't be here.

"Do you have a yellow crayon?"

I blink up at Max and clear my throat. "Yeah, there's a yellow right here."

"Thank you!" I watch as he impatiently scribbles around the outline of a smiling sun. His brown hair glows auburn in the late afternoon light, and above him, my eyes catch a stained-glass cross tacked to the wall. I'm just not in St. Anne. I'm here, in Boston. The cross - if there's a God -

"And do you know what the Bruins are?" asks Max. "They're a hockey team."

I smile genuinely. "I love hockey."

"They came to the hospital a couple weeks ago and gave Willem a jersey. It was so cool. I got to say hi. But I don't remember their names."

"That sounds awesome."

Max's mom suddenly stands up from the chair and takes his hand, leaning down and murmuring in his ear. An overflowing purse is flung over her shoulder, and her eyes are tired. I can hear her whispering - "We have to go. Say bye to your friend for today, okay? Say, thank you for playing with me."

"I have to go," Max says, turning to me. "Thank you for playing with me! Bye!"

"Bye, Max."

I watch them walk out of the waiting room, crayons and coloring books fanned out on the table in front of me.

For the next hour or so, I go to different hospital rooms and introduce myself to different patients, sometimes playing video games or reading a book with them, sometimes listening to them talk about their favorite animals and colors. When my volunteer shift is over and I leave the hospital - the sun sinking in the horizon, the wind chill making me shiver - I'm exhausted. And I feel more homesick than I have in a long time. But I also feel something else that I haven't felt in a long time - a sense of accomplishment, maybe.

I hop on the city bus and find an empty seat near the back. I still smell of the pediatric unit - like thick plastic, play-dough, worn crayons, lemon scented cleaning supplies - and lean against the window, watching the streetlights of Boston flicker on. I call Cameron.

"You've reached Cameron Beckett. You can leave a message after the beep, if you want."

I'm not surprised it went to voicemail. He probably has a game tonight. I rub my mouth and lean back in the wildly patterned bus seats.

"Hey, Cameron. I just wanted to say hi. And that I miss you. I just finished volunteering at the hospital for the first time, in the pediatrics unit. It was hard, walking through the front doors - and I kept thinking of Tom. I wish I was there for him. But a friend said it might be a good distraction, working at the hospital. That there are more things than studying. Which I know. But still - I don't know. I just like working with kids, and learning a bit about medicine. And I'm going to go study now, for chemistry. I know I'm rambling. I just miss you. Remember the hospital last year? You were with me the whole time."

I shut up. I rub my mouth again and glance out the window, Boston blinking sleepily at me.

"And I'm proud of you, is all. And I just wanted to say that. And that I love you. And that I'll talk to you later. Bye, Cam."

A/N thoughts?  also if you haven't seen, I finally made a playlist for the sound of ice and this book! the link if in my bio if you care to check it out. i don't know, just some songs that remind me of cameron and sam