Chapter 96: Daddy's Coming Home
At 5:45, just after he'd boarded the plane but while the loading process was still underway, Owen grabbed his cell phone and called the melee. Amelia answered since he called using FaceTime. Everyone yelled and celebrated when they saw him. Cheers of "Daddy!" "Dad! "DaDa!" traveled to Owen, filling his heart with joy.
After Owen disclosed that he'd be home in a few short hours, Amelia announced that the older kids could stay up late and stay home from school the next day so they could spend time with their dad. The kids were thrilled about missing a day of school and reuniting with him.
"Guys, tell me what I need to know so I'm not surprised when I come home," Owen encouraged. "We haven't adopted a giraffe or anything crazy like that, right?" he kidded.
"Oh, Daddy," Bronwyn proclaimed with rolling eyes as she slapped a hand on her forehead, "You are the silliest Daddy in the whole world."
"Uncle Derek, Dr. Avery, and Dr. Karev built us a really cool treehouse last weekend," Finley announced. "They did it when they came to do all the ramps."
A part of Owen celebrated the efforts of his colleagues while another part of him was embarrassed that they had sacrificed their time for him. He felt sorry for himself for a split second, wishing he'd been the one to build the kids' treehouse. Quickly recalibrating, Owen laughed, "I think it's going to be a while before I'm able to check it out. What else?"
"Ummm…well, we play Hot Lava a super lot now," Bronwyn disclosed.
Owen regarded her quizzically, "Hot lava?"
"Yeah, where you throw all the pillows and cushions on the floor and have to jump on them to move in the room because the floor is lava. It's pretended, Daddy. Don't worry. There's not really lava in the house," Bronwyn assured him.
"I see…" Owen responded, eager to chat with his rule-breaking wife later. "Anything else?"
"Your bedroom is gonna be downstairs for now. Mom stole our playroom, so you don't have to climb stairs all the time," Oliver explained.
"We'll see how that all works out, buddy. You'll get the playroom back eventually," Owen assured his son. He looked at all the wonderful faces as his family attempted to all stay in view. "I'm going to be so happy to see all of you," he shared. "I love you all so much."
Everyone hollered back their love before Amelia mentioned, "Callie said she can come out to the house before her shift tomorrow. She'll take an initial look at your leg and suggest ways we can make the house more accessible."
"Sounds good," Owen grinned. "I'm really looking forward to being home. I love you, Amelia."
Sometimes you're hit by the moment…
Wrapped up and caught up in all that you fear.
The plane ride home was uneventful and, since it was a military plane, predictably cold. For the first time in weeks, Owen read the newspaper front to back. He frowned when he read about Sudan and its ongoing strife. Pausing, he leaned his head on the back of his seat and closed his eyes as he relived scenes from his short time there. He remembered a little boy the team had saved and how Kepner attempted to learn the local dialect so she could communicate with the villagers. Giving shots, which made him seem like a bad guy even though his efforts saved lives, was another memory worthy of celebration. Then Owen flinched as he saw the four Sudanese in his mind. He relived being thrown to the ground and kicked violently. The gunshots, which his memory knew occurred but did not recall specifically step by step, were a blurred image before the more detailed memories of Kepner treating him appeared. Owen opened his eyes and shook his head as if he were attempting to shake the memories out of his brain.
Heaven is here in a feeling, nothing or no one can take it away
When the family hung up, the kids were bursting with joy. Finley asked if Owen could come to his soccer game that Saturday. He and his mother had been having a standoff regarding whether or not a 13-year-old could decide the cleanliness level of his bedroom. He decided he'd better give in rather than face his dad's involvement. Always the artist, Bronwyn ran to the kitchen drawer where all of her art supplies were stowed. She provided paper and big crayons to each sister as they sat in their highchairs. When the twins weren't chewing on the crayons, they scribbled welcome home 'cards' for their daddy. Bronwyn began work on her own elaborate creation that would include a drawing as well as glued on décor. Oliver began to run upstairs to set his broken model aside so Owen could help him fix it, then he turned around halfway up the stairs and decided he'd brush the dogs' coats first. Everyone was buzzing with activity and anticipation, except Amelia. She made herself a cup of tea and simply soaked in the joy of her children.
After 45 minutes of preparing for Owen's return, the artwork was no longer captivating, and Bronwyn's masterpiece sat upon the counter. The amount of glue she'd used on Owen's card would likely not be dry until the following Christmas. Finley came down with two small bags of garbage in his hands but did not say a word about having cleaned his room. He was determined to avoid admitting that Amelia had won the battle. When Finley returned from putting the trash in the can in the garage, Amelia asked if he'd seen Oliver. All of the kids shrugged, not sure where Oliver had gone. After asking him to wash his hands, Amelia told Finley to prepare a small snack for the girls while she looked for Ollie.
Hidden back in a dark corner of the garage, Oliver was snuggled up with the dogs on their smelly, hairy, overstuffed bed. Amelia stepped quietly into the garage and heard his little voice. Oliver did not notice her. "Nala, I hope that when Dad comes home, you'll still be able to sleep with me." Oliver brushed Nala's coat, especially concentrating on her tummy. She grumbled happy doggy noises as she rolled on her back. "Do you think the rules will change back and you'll have to sleep out here? I hope they don't," Oliver wondered aloud with a tinge of worry.
"And, Simba, you know I'd let you sleep on my bed too if Mommy didn't make me share you with crabby, bossy Finley. I hope he doesn't hit and punch you and say mean stuff to you like he does to me, 'cause you're a super cool dog," Oliver shared as he began brushing the other dog. "I love you both so much," Oliver declared as he hugged his canines.
"Do you guys think Daddy will get better? What if he never walks normal again? Or if he is tired all the time and doesn't want to play with me anymore?" Oliver mused as the dogs snuggled into him and licked his arms and hands.
Not wanting Oliver to know she'd overheard his vulnerable conversation, Amelia reopened the door to the house and loudly closed it, calling out, "Oliver, are you out here, honey?"
"Yeah," a small voice peeped from the corner. "Me and the dogs are just talking."
Amelia walked over and knelt down with a loving grin. Reaching out to pet the dogs, she commented, "What in the world would we do without Simba and Nala?"
"They're my best friends," Oliver disclosed as he patted the dogs. "I tell them everything."
"I'm glad you have such great friends who listen and who love you, Ollie," Amelia responded.
Oliver grinned widely at his mom and agreed, "Me too."
Amelia gently continued, "Ollie, I'd like everyone to come up to my room. Can you bring the dogs up and join us?"
Oliver agreed as he called the dogs to follow him into the house. Amelia stepped back inside and noticed Lynne had arrived while she and Oliver had been in the garage. After sharing the news and asking Lynne if she'd mind watching the babies, Amelia requested, "Finley, Bronwyn, let's go up to my bedroom for a minute."
Everyone climbed the stairs; unsure what Amelia had planned. "Let's all come up on my bed," Amelia encouraged as she crawled toward the headboard and positioned herself in the middle. She stretched her arms out to each side and encouraged the kids to come cuddle. "Even you, Finley, I promise nobody will tell your friends that you actually hugged a member of the family besides the babies," she winked.
To her surprise, Finley was the first one to reach her and immediately put his arm around his mom as he snuggled into her side. Oliver approached her other side and rested his head on her chest. Bronwyn, with caution, sat on Amelia's legs facing her. The dogs each chewed on a rawhide at the end of the bed.
"Mommy, are we in trouble? It's not bedtime yet," Bronwyn inquired with confusion.
Amelia chuckled, "No. Nobody's in trouble. I want to talk about Daddy coming home."
Bronwyn beamed with relief and clapped, "I like that. Let's talk about Daddy! What do you think I should wear tonight for when we see him?"
Finley rolled his eyes and Oliver provided commentary, "Bronwyn, we're not here to talk about what we're wearing tonight."
"Why not? Daddy likes to dress nice and wants to see us in nice clothes," Bronwyn argued.
Amelia interjected, "Bron, you and I can figure out outfits in a few minutes. Right now, I want to talk about what it will be like when Dad is back."
"It'll be just like it used to be, right?!" Bronwyn celebrated.
"Well, kind of. We all need to remember that Daddy was hurt and that it will be a while before he can move around like he used to. His side still hurts, he just had surgery on his leg, and his belly is sore on one side. He's not going to be able to play outside with all of you or play Barbies with Bronwyn. Playing on the floor with the babies or helping Gwen walk will be too hard for him. Probably, he'll spend a lot of his day resting on the couch," Amelia explained.
"Can we sit with him and keep him company?" Oliver inquired.
Amelia responded with enthusiasm, "Absolutely. I bet that 90% of the time, he'd love that. Sometimes, he might want to nap or be alone, but he'll let you know. You can play cards with him or read to each other. There will still be ways to be with Daddy and have fun with him. Daddy will want hugs and kisses, but it's important to be very careful because of all the places his body hurts. If you're sitting with him and he asks you to move, it's because he hurts. It doesn't mean he doesn't love you or that he's mad at you, ok?"
"Will his curls grow back? I don't like his shaveded hair. It's icky," Bronwyn asked.
"It will. I'm with you, Bronwyn. I'm excited for his hair to grow back too," Amelia laughed.
Oliver looked at Amelia thoughtfully, "Will we still be able to play hot lava and have the dogs sleep with us?"
"Yeah," Finley echoed. "I like having Simba in my room at night."
"I need to talk to Daddy about that. We'll work something out. Here's a deal – I promise that those things won't change for at least a week, ok?" Amelia proposed.
"The other part to keep in mind, kiddos, is that Daddy will be in a wheelchair. Seeing him in a wheelchair might be hard, because it's not normal for us," Amelia explained.
"Are you guys just telling us that he's gonna walk again? Is that just what you hope? Will he be in a wheelchair for a long time or forever?" Oliver worried aloud.
Amelia tightened her arm around Ollie and leaned her head onto his, "He's already taken a few steps with a walker. It's really hard for him, but he's doing it. He's really going to walk again, Oliver. In fact, he should be able to walk and run like he used to do by the time school ends."
"What about just Dad being Dad? I mean, if he's hurting and tired all the time, will he be crabby or bossy? When I don't feel good, I'm not as nice as normal," Finley asked with introspection.
Oliver interjected with a snotty tone, "You're never nice, so what's the difference if you're sick or not?"
"Mom!" Finley growled as he looked at Amelia and leaned toward his brother, "I'm gonna…"
Amelia interrupted as she pressed her arm and hand down on his shoulder, "Finley, you're not going to do a thing. Oliver, you're going to apologize to your brother."
"But it's true," Oliver argued.
"Go," Amelia said calmly as she pointed toward her door.
"Mmmmoooommm!" Oliver whined.
"Now. Go to your room," Amelia insisted. Oliver looked up at Amelia with puppy dog eyes attempting to win her heart. Instead, his action just increased her insistence, "One…Two…"
"I'm going…" Oliver mumbled as he moped out of the room. Bronwyn immediately commandeered his spot next to Amelia.
When Oliver reached his bedroom, he slammed his door and grumbled, "I hate you" just loud enough to be heard. Amelia did not reward him with an immediate response.
"So…Finley. What was your question again, honey?" Amelia asked.
"Will Dad be Dad?" he repeated.
"In some ways, he will. Having him back will be like it used to be. But, honestly, he has some big bruises on his head, body, and face, so he might not look like Daddy. Recovering from his surgery makes him really tired, so he won't be as active or energetic. At first, he won't help make lunches or drive you to school and practice. He won't go to work until he's better. I'm not sure how much he'll want to leave the house. We're all going to need to be patient and know that he will get better and better over time," Amelia admitted with a sense of sadness.
About 10 minutes later, Amelia made her way down to Oliver's room. She knocked softly and was greeted with a curt, "What?"
"I'd like to come in and talk, Oliver," Amelia stated flatly.
"Whatever," he grumbled. Oliver was sitting on the floor playing with some Hot Wheels that continually crashed into walls, closet doors, and one another.
Amelia sat down on the bed and looked at her boy. "I used to know a little boy who liked to hug and snuggle. You know what he did? He talked his daddy into taking him to see his mom at the hospital every single day after school."
Oliver briefly looked up at Amelia and glared before returning his focus to crashing cars.
"He used to tell me he loved me all the time. I learned some of my best jokes from him, too," Amelia mused then paused briefly. "Lately, that little boy has started to grow up. Growing up is hard work. It can make a person cranky, even mean sometimes. It's hard to know how to be a kid and a grown up at the same time."
Again, Oliver looked up at his mom. This time, his facial expression screamed impatience.
"What do you suppose happened to that boy I used to know?" Amelia wondered aloud.
Without looking up or enunciating, Oliver mumbled, "His dad left him to be at a war." One after another, three more Hot Wheels crashed violently into the wall.
Amelia's heart, while not surprised, sank. She offered, "Yeah. I used to know a Mommy who was more fun and much happier. Lately, she's been crankier and bossier than she used to be. Sometimes she isn't very patient with her kids. She's tired all the time. Her husband went to a war too."
Oliver, suddenly seeing a picture bigger than his own experience, leaned against the wall and stared at Amelia. Her gaze was fixed on an airplane poster that hung on Oliver's wall. In the corner of the poster was a copy of Owen's latest official military picture and a print of the selfie of Owen and the kids that was taken at the airport when Owen left.
Standing up and rushing to his mom, Oliver embraced Amelia strongly and burst into tears. He crawled onto her lap as they held on to one another and cried.
"Let it out, Oliver. Let all those tears and all those feelings out," Amelia whispered and encouraged as she rubbed his back.
Between sobs, Oliver pulled away just enough to see Amelia's face. He admitted, "Sometimes I really, really hate him for leaving us, Mommy. And I don't want to hate him."
Amelia grasped Oliver tighter and whispered in his ear, "I understand, Oliver. I really do."
"I don't like that he missed Finley's birthday and Christmas. That was dumb of him," Oliver wept.
"You're right. It was," Amelia confirmed with gentleness.
With his face tucked into his mom's shoulder, Oliver continued, "And he hasn't taken us to school in forever. He missed Bronwyn's stupid dance things, and he didn't get to see Finley score all those goals."
"I know," Amelia affirmed. "And he missed your science fair and your soccer games, too."
"Sometimes I wanna tear up his picture," Oliver disclosed as if he were confessing to a violent murder.
"Sometimes, I've wanted to do that too, Ollie," Amelia echoed.
Oliver leaned back to look in Amelia's eyes again. "Really?"
"Yeah, really," Amelia admitted. "But you know what I do when I feel like that?"
"What?" Oliver asked as he sniffled and wiped his nose on his shirt sleeve.
"I stop and remind myself that my anger is really telling me how sad I am. Sometimes, it's just easier to pretend to be angry than to admit being sad or afraid," Amelia clarified. "And you know what else? It's ok to be happy he's coming home and angry at him at the same time. It's ok to love him lots and also hate the decision he made to go far away. It's ok to be angry that he went overseas even though we're proud of him for being a hero and for saving so many people's lives."
"It is?" Oliver asked with huge tears falling slowly down his cheeks.
"Yeah, Oliver. It is. Really," Amelia affirmed as she held her boy close. "And someday, Oliver, after Daddy's been home awhile, we can talk with him about it. I'll be right there with you if you want." She remained seated on the bed and swayed left and right as if she was rocking a baby to sleep with her body motions. Her cheek rested on his messy hair as he sniffled and held on to her tightly.