Until Delilah by Harlow Layne
Delilah
“Mama,”Beckham shouts from the back door of Max’s house, “there’s a dog out by the creek and I think it’s hurt.”
He sounds so sad that the poor puppy might be hurt that I set down the dish I was washing, and head to the door where my son stands. His eyes are transfixed on what looks to be a German Shepherd. A big German Shepherd, and even from here I can see there’s blood on its hindquarters and it’s limping.
“Stay right there while I get a few supplies,” I order him. Beckham has never met a dog in his life that he doesn’t instantly fall in love with, but he’s never encountered one that’s hurt either. Neither have I, but I’ve heard stories and I know we need to be cautious.
I run back to the kitchen to grab a towel, and the bowl of leftover taco meat from dinner to make the dog want to be near us when it’s hurt. When I get to the door, I don’t see Beckham there, and my heart begins to sprint in my chest as I search for him.
My feet take off the second I find Beckham skipping toward the dog like they’re going to be the bestest of friends after they meet. I want to scream, but I’m afraid I’ll startle the dog. Instead, I try to run as stealthy as possible to stop my son before he reaches the injured animal.
Only I’m too late. To my horror, Beckham reaches out his hand to pet the dog, and I see my life with Beckham flash before my eyes. From the moment I held him in the hospital to his Little League game last Saturday.
I scream bloody murder while my feet seem to slow. I feel like I’m stuck in cement as I watch in horror as the dog bares its teeth and lunges for Beckham.
It all happens so fast. There’s crying and blood. So much blood as I take my son in my arms and run back for the house. Tears stream down my face as I watch blood pump from the wound on the top of his head with each of his cries.
As I start to make my way up the steps to the upper deck, I’m stopped by an ashen faced Max. He tries to take Beck from me, but I can’t let go. If I do, then I know something bad will happen to him.
“Delilah,” Max says in a low voice, “let me take him.”
“No,” my voice is broken with tears as I clutch Beckham closer to me. “I can’t. Please, you have to do something. Please,” I beg.
“Head to the garage while I get a clean towel to place on his wound.” At the word wound, I sob, nearly falling to my knees. “We’ll take him to the hospital, and he’ll be fine.”
I look up at him, but all I see is a blur. “Do you promise?”
“I promise. Now let’s go,” he orders.
I take a step and nearly fall, unable to see through my tears. Max catches me and picks me up with Beck still in my arms. “I’ve got you.”
All I can do is hold him closer as Max races around his house before he sits us down in his truck. Unwilling and unable to let Beckham go, he buckles me in with my son in my lap. He hasn’t stopped crying the entire time, which makes me cry harder. The pain he has to be in nearly cripples me.
“We’ll be there in less than ten minutes. Just hold on there, little buddy,” Max says while I hear the engine of his truck rev.
I try to blink away the tears so I can assess his wound, but they won’t stop falling. I start to chant, “Please be okay, please be okay.”
In what feels like a blink of an eye and also an eternity, I feel the truck come to a screeching halt in front of the hospital. The next thing I know, my door is thrown open and Max is lifting us both out of the truck.
There’s a commotion of voices, but I can’t make any of them out. My head feels light as I try to breathe in Beckham’s scent, but it’s muddled with the smell of antiseptic.
Someone tries to take him away, but I hold him tighter, unwilling to let him go. “No,” I cry out, “I need to be with my son. He needs me.”
“Ma’am, we can’t help your son with you holding onto him. You need to give him to us,” a kind, feminine voice says to my right.
“What if something bad happens to him?” I choke out.
“We’re going to do our very best to take care of him, but right now you’re hindering that. You can stay by his side, but you have to let us look at him.”
“Delilah,” Max’s soft voice, pierces through the cacophony of voices, “let them see Beckham so they can make him better. I promise he’s going to be okay.”
I know what I need to do, but it isn’t as easy as it seems. My son is my whole life and if anything were to happen to him, I’m not sure I’d be able to go on. Still, I open my eyes and arms and let a team of hospital staff take my son away from me. Once they whisk him away, I let my head fall onto Max’s chest and cry.
“You can follow us,” a man says.
As if I’m as light as a feather, Max carries me and follows along. Every few seconds his hold on me tightens. When we stop, I wipe my tears away with the backs of my hands. I try to focus on what they’re doing to Beck, but I can’t see past all the staff.
Max starts to move away, making me whip my head to him and glare. “What are you doing?”
“I’m only sitting us down so we’ll be out to the way and they can better attend to Beckham. I know it looked bad, but heads bleed alot. I’ve had plenty of gashes to the head in my time and learned early on they bleed more than most. He’ll be fine. I promise you.” His big hand runs down my hair and back and then up again.
“I told him to stay at the door. I went to get the taco meat and when I came back, he was gone,” I cry out, closing my eyes as flashes of what happened earlier keep looping through my head.
“Ma’am we need to take a look at your wounds as well if you could—”
“You’re hurt?” Max interrupts, his blue eyes tracing over every inch of me he can see.
“I… I don’t know. I don’t feel anything.”
A soft hand rests on my arm for a moment before lifting it. It’s then that I see blood coating my arm.
Pulling my arm away, I argue. “I don’t want to leave my son. It can wait.”
“Delilah, none of that,” Max stands and places me on my feet. “You don’t want Beck to have to wait for you to get taken care of once he’s done, do you?”
A sweet older woman comes to stand in front of me with a sympathetic smile on her wrinkled face. “The room right next door is open, so you won’t be far. If there are any problems, which there won’t be, they’ll come to get you.”
My eyes dart to Max and that’s when I see blood covering his light gray t-shirt and arm. “You’ll stay with him, right?”
He swallows and I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs. “If you don’t need me, I won’t leave this spot.”
“I want you here if I can’t be.” My eyes start to tear up at the thought of not being with Beck when he needs me. Even though I know my parents couldn’t do anything immediately, I wish I had my phone so I could call them and let them know what’s happening. I need to hear their voices. It’s then that I vow to myself when we get back to Max’s house, I’m going to call my parents and tell them everything that’s happened since I last talked to them.