Chapter 30: Hell of a Morning
Owen clapped his hands together four times and called out, "C'mon guys! Don't want to be late. Let's go, let's go."
Bronwyn came dragging out of her room, curls and rat's nests in her hair pointing every direction. She stretched with an enormous yawn before yelling, "Yeah, guys! Dad's yelling keeps waking me up. Get moving!"
Finley, one shoe on and one shoe in hand, ran out of his bedroom and toward Bronwyn. He knelt down to her level, gritted his teeth and warned her, "Bronwyn, shut up or I'll make sure you're out cold for days." Finley leaned close to Bronwyn's face with a steady stare.
"DDDDDDDDDDaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!," Bronwyn screamed as if Finley was attempting to cut off her arm. "Finley's gonna hurt me."
Oliver came running into the hallway wearing his PJ top and nothing else. His hair rivaled Bronwyn's and his toothbrush hung out of his mouth. At the same time, Owen came pounding up the stairs, "Boys! Now! Go!" He was about to show his level of frustration full force because his patience was nearly depleted. The entire week, while Lynne was away visiting family, they had managed to be late to school. Amelia and Owen had shared the morning routine all of the other days while Lynne was gone, which helped tremendously. However, Owen was on his own this time.
Oliver's eyes widened as he heard Owen coming and as he saw Finley intimidating Bronwyn. He ran to the bathroom to finish getting ready, knowing Owen couldn't reach him behind a locked door. That safe room, he hoped, would buy him enough time to finish dressing and to brush his hair.
By listening carefully, Finley could tell that Owen was about to round the corner. He ran to his room and took off his shirt so he could assure his dad that he'd been in his room getting dressed the whole time and hadn't even seen Bronwyn yet that day.
Owen stormed toward Oliver's bedroom and asked Bronwyn seriously but not harshly, "What's going on, Katie? Looks like you're out here alone. Nobody's after you." Owen kept walking, with Bronwyn now trailing behind him. He knocked on Oliver's door and opened it to discover an empty bedroom. He bellowed, "Oliver, where are you?"
"Daddy…daddy, Finley scareded me and said he was gonna make me sleep long time. I hate him!" Bronwyn offered the moment she sensed a chance to get Owen's attention.
Owen looked down, surveyed the hallway and explained as if he was reminding Bronwyn of something very simple, "Bronwyn, he's not even out here. Go grab some clothes and we'll put them on at the hospital. And what word do we not use? We don't say 'hate'."
"I'm NOT lyyyyyiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnggggggg!" Bronwyn proclaimed repeatedly as she fell onto the carpet.
Owen shook his head and looked up toward the ceiling. "Finley?"
"What?!" Finley snapped as he emerged from his room ready to leave for school.
"Did you hassle your sister a few minutes ago?"
"No…geez, Dad. I'm sure. Like I have time for that," Finley snarled as if he was offended at the accusation. He headed down the stairs. Bronwyn's screaming continued and Owen stopped to take a breath and remember what he had been planning to do next. Right…Oliver. Where the hell was he?
Owen called out again, "Oliver? We're late. Let's go." Then Owen knelt down and explained quietly but with an I've had enoughvoice, "Bronwyn. You are leaving with us in two minutes. You can wear your nightie all day at daycare or you can go grab clothes. Now stop with the drama, get up, and get moving."
"I hate you because you hate me! You like hating me!" Bronwyn screamed at the top of her lungs as her tantrum tears were miraculously replaced with a voice of fury. She stomped off toward her room and slammed the door.
"Oliver?" Owen yelled.
Oliver came out of the bathroom, his hair still askew and his shirt on backwards, stating with the exasperation he'd learned to portray by watching Amelia, "Dad. I'm ready. And I heard Finley being mean to Kate. He's lying. Can you do something about that?"
"There's a lot I can do something about, Buddy, and a lot I can't. Go get in the car," Owen sighed. "Bronwyn, let's go." Owen commanded as he opened her door to find her playing with Barbies. He scooped her up and began descending the stairs.
"Dad!" Oliver yelled as he ran back into the house, "Finley just punched me right here and here and now my tooth is loose."
Owen closed his eyes and took a deep breath, thinking to himself, What I'd do right now to be running a trauma instead of this chaos.Bronwyn was pounding on Owen's back as he held her sideways against his side. He knelt down to Oliver and could see a red mark on his arm. He noticed his cheek was red and beginning to swell as well. Softly, Owen looked Oliver in the eyes and put his free hand on Oliver's shoulder, "Ok, buddy. Open your mouth so I can check things out." Owen peeked in and saw the loose tooth – it was the same tooth that had been loose for a few days and there was just a little bit of blood. Nothing to worry about, except Oliver's dragon breath. Obviously, he didn't brush his teeth very well. "Listen. Go grab one of those refreezable deals that Lynne uses in your lunch sometimes," Owen paused momentarily as he realized he completely forgot to pack lunches, "and grab a dishtowel. Then run out to the car so we can go."
As he headed out the front door, he spotted Finley in the front passenger seat with his headphones on, his face holding a scowl, and his arms crossed tightly in front of his chest. "Shit," Owen muttered under his breath.
"You said a bad word. That word isn't ok." Bronwyn exclaimed, still being held sideways.
Owen looked the three-year-old in the eye as he rotated her to buckle her into the carseat. "Yep, I did. And, you're right, it wasn't ok." He kissed her forehead and handed her a random book from the floor of the car. Hopefully, she'd be interested in it and would be quiet on the drive to school.
Oliver came running out of the house, leaving the front door wide open. He was holding Owen's new phone up as he shared, "Dad, your phone is making noises so I brought it out." Owen sighed in relief – the tone he heard meant the hospital was calling.
"Thanks, buddy. Hey, close the door and let's go," Owen called from the car as Oliver retraced his steps, closed the door, and then turned back around to head to the car. When Oliver reached the spot where the sidewalk and the driveway met, he stumbled and fell. The phone went bouncing across the driveway and Oliver was trying not to cry as he realized his hands, chin, knees, and nose had been scraped. Owen walked over and whispered to him, "I bet that hurt, Oliver. Let's take a look." Owen borrowed the dishtowel that Oliver had miraculously actually remembered to grab (without an ice pack, of course) and tried to wipe away the tiny pieces of cement and the blood. Noticing his knees were bleeding through his jeans, Owen grimaced and asked Oliver, "Do you think you can just sit tight while we get Finley to school and then we can come home and deal with all this or does it hurt too much?"
Oliver steadied his shoulders as broadly as he could and claimed, "I can handle it, Dad." Owen grinned as he hugged Oliver. He wasn't aware that Oliver's blood was now all over his white dress shirt.
Oliver hopped in the car and whispered to Bronwyn, "I told Dad you weren't lying." Bronwyn smiled proudly and blew her brother a kiss. Even though actual physical contact hadn't occurred, Oliver wiped Bron's kiss off his cheek.
Owen started the car and began to back out of the driveway. He reached over to Finley with raised eyebrows and motioned for the headphones to come off. Finley sneered but did as requested. Oliver hollered out, "Dad, your phone is on the driveway, 'member?" Owen closed his eyes momentarily, pulled back in to the driveway, threw the car in to park and hopped out to grab the phone. He had just picked it up the day before and hadn't had time to buy a case. The screen was completely decimated, but the beep was still sounding.
Once they were on their way to Finley's school, Owen asked, "What's up this morning, Finley?"
"Nothing," Finley grumbled.
"Something. You punched your brother and threatened your sister. Am I next?" Owen inquired.
"No."
"What's going on?" Owen asked more firmly.
"Nothing! They were bugging me and wouldn't stop." Finley tried to plead.
"I was not bugging you, Finley!" Oliver yelled from the very back.
Bronwyn piped in, "I was helping. I me-rinded him to get ready."
Owen shot a quick glance at Finley, who huffed in response. "Finley, we'll talk more tonight." Pulling in to the drop off area, he continued, "An apology now would be in order, however."
Finley rolled his eyes, jumped out of the car and slammed the door without a word.
"Lord have mercy," Owen mumbled to himself. Looking in the rear-view mirror, he offered, "Who wants a Starbucks hot chocolate?"
Both kids celebrated, with Bronwyn adding, "And I wanna doughnut."
"If thee gets a doughnut, I want one of those chocolate bread thingths," Oliver said with a bit of a lisp, announcing, "Hey! My tooth just fell out!"
"Now you're bleeding from everywhere, huh, bud?" Owen observed with a grin.
"I guethh," Oliver responded with good humor. He spent the next few minutes trying to pronounce an 's' sound aloud.
As they waited in the drive thru line at Starbucks, Owen grabbed his phone to see if he could even make a call. Luckily, they'd transferred his contacts and helped him set up the car Bluetooth, so he could dial using the car's system. Not knowing who had called him, he began by calling Amelia. She'd been at the hospital since 5am. When she left, Owen held back his gloating as he rolled over and went back to sleep. Now, he was wishing he'd been the one who had to leave in the dark.
"Where are you?" Amelia answered her phone with concern.
"It's been a hell of a morning," Owen sighed.
"Owen, there's a multi-car MVA downstairs and they've been paging you for an ETA," Amelia explained.
Owen let out a huge breath, "I'm at least an hour out, Amy. I'm sorry. My phone fell, I can't read texts or caller id, Oliver fell and is scraped up, Bron's still in her nightie, and Finley…well, I'll tell you later."
"He hitted me and puncheded Oliver!" Bronwyn yelled, knowing Amelia could hear her. "And Oliver lost his tooth and talks funny now."
"I do not, Bonwyn," Oliver argued.
Bronwyn snapped back, "That's not my name and you know it, Myder Pyder."
"What's a Myder Pyder? That's not even a thing, dummy head," Oliver fought back.
"Just a sec, Mia," Owen requested as he turned back and declared, "Quiet or I'm the only one getting something from Starbucks." Silence filled the car. Owen drove ahead to the drive through speaker and ordered a bevy of goodies then pulled one car-length closer to the window as he continued with Amelia, "Sorry. Anyway, it's been a hell of a freakin' ridiculous morning. I'll be in as soon as I can, but I can guarantee it will be at least an hour."
"Wait a minute. Why is Ollie still in the car? His school started 15 minutes ago," Amelia asked quizzically.
Owen sighed as he fumbled into his back pocket to grab his wallet, realizing he couldn't use his Starbucks phone app to pay. He grabbed the first credit card he spotted, drove forward and handed it to the barista with a cheery "Good morning."
"Hey, Dr. Hunt. How's your day?" Cliff asked. Unbeknownst to Amelia and everyone else, this drive through was his nearly daily reward to himself for surviving the chaotic Shepherd-Hunt family mornings. "No app today?" Cliff asked as he grabbed the card. Owen held up his phone and frowned as Cliff responded, "Dude…that's no good."
"Owen?" Amelia spoke from the speaker system.
"Yeah?" Owen answered as he grabbed the drink tray and bag of carbs.
Amelia continued in utter confusion, "Oliver. Why isn't he in school?"
"Long story. Hey, I'll see you soon, ok? Love you," Owen declared as he reached for the button to hang up.
Amelia interrupted quickly, "Owen, don't forget we have an ultrasound in 90 minutes. 90, ok?"
"Ok, no problem," Owen faked enthusiasm as he hung up the Bluetooth.
The trio reached the house and Owen put Bronwyn at the kitchen table with her cocoa and doughnut. He turned on the TV that was normally only on for limited periods during the weekend and instructed, "Don't leave the table except to go potty, ok?" Bronwyn nodded as Owen hoped to head off any downstairs Bronwyn messes.
Oliver and Owen headed upstairs to survey the injuries. Owen grimaced with compassion at Oliver as he sat on the bathroom counter with bruises and scrapes all over. "Where should I start? What hurts most?"
"My kneeth," Oliver lisped. Oliver had already pulled his jeans off and left them in the hallway, leaving a trail of jeans, socks, and shoes from the stairway to the bathroom. The knees were badly scraped but were already beginning to scab over. Owen tried to use a washcloth to clean them just a little, but Oliver winced and begged him to stop. A huge bandaid on each knee would have to suffice for now. Owen worked his way to Oliver's palms, elbows and face encountering the same problem at each stop. As Owen surveyed the bruise on Oliver's cheek, he noticed that Finley must have punched his brother fairly hard.
"We'll get some ice on your cheek, but Oliver, there's not a lot I can do for the scrapes if you won't let me clean all this up," Owen explained patiently.
"It hurths too much, though," Oliver countered.
Looking deeply into Oliver's eyes, Owen affirmed, "I know, Buddy. How about if we clean it up at the hospital where we can spray that non-stingy cleaner on it?"
"It won't thing?" Oliver asked, confirming that it would not sting.
"Nope. I promise." Owen declared. "How about you grab some new clothes, get them on and head downstairs. Oh…and if you can handle it and it doesn't hurt your cheek too much, brush your dragon breath away." Oliver smiled and blew a giant breath toward Owen's face.
When he'd spotted himself in the mirror, he'd noticed Oliver's blood on his shirt. Owen loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt and walked into his closet to find a replacement. None of his customary white shirts were pressed or clean, so he surveyed his options and chose a light blue button down. As he headed down the stairs while buttoning the shirt, Owen called out, "Stay on task, Oliver."
"Yeth, I will," Oliver hollered back agreeably.
Reaching the kitchen, Owen discovered Bronwyn stirring a number of random ingredients in a large stainless-steel bowl. She looked up at him proudly and announced, "I'm cooking you a surprise breffast, Daddy, 'cause it's been a hell of a freakin' morning." Owen smiled, trying not to show his impatience and frustration at the mess and the language. He popped Bronwyn out of her ingredient-laden nightie and carried her upstairs.
"Thanks, Bron. Let's go get you dressed and ready and we'll see if we have time for your meal. What are you making anyway?"
Bronwyn poked Owen's ear and tugged on his hair, then rubbed up against his stubbly cheek, "Bronwyn Surprise. It has lemons and Ba-tasco sauce and one banana. Then I putted in brownie mix and apple juice." Trying his best not to laugh, Owen mumbled, "Mmmmmmm." He was certain he wouldn't be able to speak without losing it.
Setting Bronwyn on her bed, Owen walked over to her closet and grabbed an outfit, "No negotiations today, Bronwyn. This is it, got it?"
"Yeah," Katie answered with disappointment. "I really, really feel like purple not blue today, but ok."
"If you wear this dress, you and I will have the same blue on," Owen attempted to reassure her. Bronwyn beamed at the insight and held her arms up high so Owen could slip the dress on over her head. He grabbed some leggings and helped her pull those on as well.
Oliver had made his way downstairs while Owen attempted to make some sort of order of Bronwyn's curls. He finally decided it was Hat Day. He stuffed her hair into a baseball cap and promised that Amelia would help with hair at the hospital.
"Hey, Dad," Oliver called out. "Thomeone'th on the phone for you."
Owen hurried down the stairs with Bronwyn in his arms and grasped his broken phone, "Dr. Hunt."
"Owen, we're about to start the ultrasound. Are you on your way?" Annalisa asked in a hushed tone.
"Kind of. Umm…Sort of. I'm trying. Can you push us back half an hour?" Owen begged.
Annalisa countered, "I can, but I'm not sure if Amelia's schedule will allow for that. Should I check?"
Owen pondered for a moment and requested, "Can you take the fall for me, say you're stacked up with patients, and I'll really owe you one?"
"Hmm…this once, Chief. This once," Annalisa kidded.