Mickey's screaming woke Ryan early in the morning.
In a confused panic, Ryan stumbled from bed, picking up Mickey and cradling him in his arms, hushing him. Mickey woke like this sometimes. Ryan sat down on the bed, whispering in Mickey's ear, to hush, hush, hush.
Beverley suddenly appeared in the doorway. "Is he all right?" she asked, taking Mickey up in her arms and hushing him, singing a little song. Ryan closed his eyes, letting the quiet strains of 'Golden Slumbers' wash over him. His mother used to sing it to him and his sister when they were young.
He suddenly found himself telling Beverley this, who looked down at his with sympathy, suddenly stopping her singing, Mickey now resting quietly in her arms. "No, no. Don't stop." So she continued to sing, putting Mickey back to bed and then sitting down next to him. He rested his head in her lap and curled his pajama-clad legs up towards himself.
"You're pretty scared, huh?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
"Why wouldn't I be?" he replied. There was a long silence before he spoke again, "I think I want to stay here, Bev."
"I'm glad you like it here."
"No," he said, sitting up slightly to look at her, "I mean like forever."
Beverley's face drew itself out in on sympathetic look. Ryan could see every wrinkle and line on her face, every moment of her life right there for all to see. "I'm sorry, baby, I don't know if that's going to work out."
He rested his head back in her lap. "I know."