The Pain of Others (Caitlin)

          "Do you know Jordan? Alex's father?"
          "Yes. What about him?" It was Cory.
          "Did you know that he was a father at the age of 16?"  That shocked me. He looked younger than the other Creative Fun parents, but I had always thought it was just him.
          "No. I know it's just him and Alex." This was getting awkward really quickly. "I never knew that, though." I could only imagine what he went through. Having hardly the means to support a child with the added stigma would have been difficult. Why does Jordan get no recognition for inspiring others for raising Alex to be the wonderful girl she is while I had an entire article written about me simply for playing and teaching? Alex came to me in tears once because she could not go on the choir trip. The form required two parent signatures. She cried on my shoulder for a while because her choir teacher would not believe her when she said she had only her father. However, her classmate with only a mother was allowed to go. That must have felt very unfair to Alex.

I have met Jordan before. He is a nice man who carries himself with an air of cool indifference. Some people think him antisocial and a misanthropist. However, that is far from true. He has a big heart that he expresses regularly, just not in the way that others think indicates the existence of a heart. Because Steve was the slayer of the Ender Dragon, Jordan repaired his swords for free. This was an act of gratitude he did because he planned to slay the dragon, but didn't because of Alex.
          "Well, the mother didn't want to deal with the stigma, so she never even saw Alex. She just left the little girl to Jordan."
          "Where did you hear about this?"
          "From the villagers. Apparently, they know Alex and her father very well." Since Alex passed fhrough the village often, it would make sense that they would know at least some part of her. Sweet and demonstrative, it would have never occurred to me that Alex had such a past.

It was oddly silent without Steve next to me. My vulnerabilities were once again in my face. I coughed, puffed on my inhaler, and texted Andrew to get a refill on my inhaler. I curled up on the couch with a blanket and entered grades for my students. Adrian e-mailed me telling me that he was alone in a hematologist's office.  He said his mother was with Emilia for her routine appointments.

I gathered my things and visited Steve in the hospital. The path was long and winding, of moderate difficulty for the average person. However, due to my decreased endurance and weak legs, it was more akin to a strenuous hike. I made my way over the path with relative ease at first, but I tired quickly.  Carrying the bag along with my medical whatnot did not help things yet all.

When I arrived at the hospital, my legs collapsed underneath me right as a nurse was rolling a cart full of sugar/saline bags to a patient. I apologized and quickly crawls out of the way. I signed in at the counter as another nurse escorted me to Steve's room. She said he could keep down anything with the curtain drawn, but could barely keep any food down if there was no curtain.

Seeing him hooked up to nearly everything I had ever been hooked up to made me feel like something was suffocating me and stabbing my heart with a sword at the same time. I took his hand and he scooted next to me as if to reassure me that everything was okay. He held my hand reassuringly, that familiar grip comforting me. I told him about my students' funny antics and about how Alex was improving. He laughed loud and clear.

I started crying despite the promise I made to myself to stay strong. Steve wiped my tears away with his free hand. He turned over, grabbed a tissue, and encouraged me to sit. I obliged as he gazed compassionately at me. Even at his worst, he found a way to make me feel better. The nurse said our time was up, so I left.

I saw a boy of twelve walking out of the hematology room. He looked a lot like Adrian. He was indeed the student I had for track and music. He sat down and cried quietly, careful that others would not take notice. I made my way to him and asked how he was doing. He tearfully said he was fine although everything else about him indicated otherwise.
         "Oh, hi Miss Netherfield. I can never fight again." He covered his face with his hands.
         "Why not?"
         "Apparently the spider poison killed half my platelets, so I'm more prone to bleeding. It means I can't fight." Dealing with a hematological disorder was difficult in Minecraft. "So it's all those transfusions for nothing." That wasn't true. He would have no platelets if not for the transfusions. I put my arm around him and let him cry on my shoulder. It would be dismissive of me to do otherwise.