I’m Jacob.”
***
That morning had started in the pediatric cardiac unit, with Max trying to be braver than any child should have to be.
One week, he got tired walking from the couch to the kitchen. By nightfall, he was in a hospital bed with wires on his chest.
“The repair needs to happen now,” Dr. Patel said.
“We have a surgical opening tonight, but insurance hasn’t cleared the specialist transfer fast enough. We need financial clearance to hold the slot.”
I looked past him at Max, who was pretending to sleep so I wouldn’t see he was listening.
“He’s eleven,” I said. “He sleeps with a baseball glove under his pillow.
You’re telling me a number is standing between him and tomorrow?”
He told me.
