Page 24 of Sweet Little Lies
“There you go, buddy…you’re okay. We’ve gotchya now. Get it all out – let it all go,” Lance prods, turning Alvi to his side to hold his head and rub gentling circles on my nephew’s small back.
The sounds of sirens in the backdrop grow louder and more shrilling, as the babies next to me wail and shriek just as loud. All I can feel is the crashing throb in my head. The rumbling ache in my heart that threatens to be my undoing.
He’s alive. He’s not dead.
And it’s all because of Lance.
I stare at him in a moment of clarity. This giant man – normally just the life of the party - just saved one of my own. The man who didn’t question it for a moment when he barreled out into the water in search of my nephew.
The tears that I’ve been trying to hold back, for fear of frightening the kids even further, are now flowing like the dam has broken. I suck in big sobs, my entire body shaking in the torrent flooding of tears.
Lance cradles Alvi in his left arm and reaches out to me, fumbling awkwardly but finding purchase at the top of my bare knee.
He gives me a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay, Georgie. Everything will be okay. I promise you. We’re all good now.”
Paramedics swarm around us, sending the bystanders and looky-loos off to the side as they begin to take over from where Lance just performed a miracle. He saved my nephew from death.
His hand leaves my knee and we both stand to allow the medics room to work. A mother of the child that had been playing with Alvi has graciously ushered Amelia and AJ away from the scene as Lance moves to my side and reaches around my shoulder to pull me close.
He’s still dripping wet. “Towel,” I lamely observe, but he just holds me tighter, unconcerned about his physical state.
It takes about fifteen minutes for the medics to get Alvi’s vitals and to ask me questions about his health and any allergies he might have. And when they ask me if I’m his mother, I realize with trepidation and dread that I’m going to have to face my sister.
In fact, I should’ve called her already to inform her of the near death experience her son just experienced. That I caused with my lack of attention.
But instead, I grab onto the warmth of Lance’s embrace. His arm so confidently and protectively fits around my shoulders. How at any other time I would enjoy the feeling and try to snuggle in to his warm, strong body. But right now, it scares me that I’ve allow this to happen and it was my focus on Lance that led me astray.
“He’s my nephew,” I tell the paramedic, Lt. Cody. “I’ll need to call my sister to find out what she wants us to do.”
My hands tremble as I bend down to grab the phone from my bag. As I pull it up, all composure is lost and I can’t see the keypad through my silent tears. And then I feel Lance’s large, calloused hand – the one that was just working life-saving efforts on my nephew’s chest – take the phone in his grasp.
“I’ll call her. It’s Therese, right?”
I hiccup and nod as I watch him take a few steps away from the crowd. During the time he’s on the phone, Alvi has come out of his stupor and is now crying steadily over all the prodding and unfamiliar faces. I bend down to hold him, to tell him he’s okay, to tell him I love him.
And then, as most children have an uncanny ability to do, he lightens the mood with one question.
“Can we go get ice cream now?”
