12. Pop quiz.

                                    

                                          
{Cary}
                          
It took two phone calls and a bus ride to find his mother's hospital. The lady at the desk waved him through. Cary tapped on the door of his mother's room and slid inside. The smell of hospitals put him on edge.
                          
Beverly was in bed, wrapped in a shiny bed coat. She smiled at him and held out her hands. "Sweetheart. I missed you." The hospital smell was stronger when he leaned over to brush her cheeks with his lips. It reminded him of things he didn't like to remember.
                          
"Are you okay?" Cary said.
                          
"Of course baby." Her jaw was set under her smile. She would never say different.
                          
Cary still felt naked from being at Jon's house. He needed to get tough. Now. "Where's the baby?"
                          
"He's too small to be in the room with me. The nurses will bring him."
                          
Conall brought the baby, cradling a cloth-wrapped bundle in his arms. Cary had never seen his father's face look so tender.
                          
Conall looked up at Cary and his usual, razor sharp expression returned. "Ciaran. Have you come to meet your brother?"
                          
Cary nodded. The bundle stirred, one tiny hand stretched up and opened. Cary backed up against the foot of the bed. His father drew back the flannel blanket so Cary could see the baby's face. Liam was sleeping with his lips parted.
                          
"Do you want to hold him?" Beverly said. Cary was aware of every shift of his father's expression. He felt like he'd walked into a pop quiz.
                          
"Yes please," he whispered.
                          
He made a cradle with his arms and Conall passed the baby into them. Liam's warm weight settled against Cary's chest. He was soft as the inside of an egg and just as fragile. Cary could see the throb of his heartbeat on top of his head. He sank onto the foot of the bed, staring into his brother's face. Maybe if he hadn't just been at Jon's house it wouldn't have felt like being kicked in the chest.
                          
When the baby had been a bump under his mother's clothing, Cary had been able to hope it would die. Better for them both. He looked up at his mother. She was watching him. A moment's understanding passed between them: Nothing could ever, ever hurt Liam.
                          
Liam stirred, opening his mouth in a yawn—a perfect pink shell. Cary froze.
                          
"I'll take him," Beverly said.
                          
When his arms were empty Cary fled the room. He stood in the waiting room staring blindly at the pastel prints of flowers. He could still feel Liam's warmth against his chest.
                          
That soft, floppy body was coming to live at their house. How could he possibly keep his brother safe?
                          
453 words.