He was enormous, with broad shoulders, a shaved head, and tattoos covering both arms and disappearing under his collar.
My mother was visiting when he first introduced himself.
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After he stepped out, she leaned toward me.
“They hired someone with tattoos like that?”
I didn’t answer, but I’d been thinking the same thing. If I’d passed him on the street at night, I probably would have crossed over.
Then I started watching how he treated Drew.
Most doctors spoke to me first, even when Drew was awake. Dr. Harris pulled up a chair and looked my son directly in the eye.
“How are we doing today, champ?”
“Depends,” Drew said. “Are you bringing more needles?”
“Not personally. I’m trying to improve my reputation around here.”
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Drew laughed.
It was the first real laugh I’d heard from him in days.
Over the following weeks, Dr. Harris remembered everything Drew told him.
