This morning, at five, I was suddenly and rudely awakened by a phone call. Because I sometimes cover for others who can’t for whatever reason go to work, and I didn’t want to wake up Dex with the continuous ringing.
I heard Emmy’s calm voice say, “Leopold, there’s an emergency. I need your help.”
I’m not dumb. I knew that it was likely not that bad when he was that calm. But I couldn’t let it go when he asked me specifically, and I dragged myself out of bed to get ready.
I only woke Dex up briefly enough to kiss him bye and tell him I was going to see my brother Edmond.
It’s now almost seven.
I see that it may have been far more urgent than I expected.
I kick the shoes off my feet. I take the toddler off my of Emmy’s arms and lift another kid tugging at his arm over my shoulder. They are both screaming at the top of their lungs.
While it goes against the manner I’ve learnt as a child, I walk straight in and make myself at home. I find my way to a living room in my brother’s ridiculously large apartment.
To be honest, it also goes against everything I’ve learnt to manhandle children. I’m manhandling them gently, though. Manhandling them safely , in that way one sometimes just has to for their own good.
I put the two children on the couch, and then I kneel before them. I look that they’re not visibly harmed before I return to my brother and take the two oldest under my arms, carrying them to the living room too, one of the screaming and kicking like I’m abducting him. I place them on the couch as well.
I once again kneel in front of the couch. I’m either at eye level or below eye level with the kids. This is important.
I can tell who these pups are even if I’ve never met them before. It’s not that hard. How would I not recognise my own family in them?
Or rather, I have met one of them when they were very little, but it’s not the same as meeting the person they would become through these past years.
“So who’s gonna tell Nurse Leo what’s happening?” I ask calmly.
“They—”
I turn to my brother, “Did it seem like I asked you, Edmond? You go somewhere else. Nurse’s orders.”
Emmy gives me a look that said, I’m giving you a lot of grace, but he stepped out of the room and closed the doors nonetheless.
“All right, all the adults are gone now. So who wants to tell me what’s wrong so I can help? Nurses exist to help people who don’t feel well or who are going through a crisis, which is a situation that feels really bad.”
“Aren’t you an adult, too?”
“I don’t count. I’m a certified spoiled brat.”
I don’t force them to talk. I just kneel before them.
Waiting.
When I see one of the older pups trying to correct the toddler for still wailing, I stop him.
“Screaming is good,” I say. “It lets out all the bad emotions that are too big to handle. If you feel bad, you scream too.”
He pauses and looks at me. He gazes at me for a long time. I just smile at him gently.
“What’s wrong?” I eventually ask when he turns away.
He turns back in a huff to say, “You look familiar. Probably just one of those faces.”
“Are you Ruff?” I ask.
He freezes.
Yep, this is Ruff. Little Ruffles has got so big. It reminds me of how old I myself am becoming.
“If you are, then we have met a long, long, long time ago. I wasn’t that much older than how old you are now.”
“How old were you?” the other older pup asks.
“I was almost seventeen, I think.”
“Were you a nurse at seventeen?”
“Nope. I went to school and was in fights all the time, and my dad would give me anything I asked for. Like I said. I’m a certified spoiled brat.”
“So why did you meet Ruff?”
“Because I’m your father’s baby brother.”
“Why haven’t we seen you before if you’re our uncle?” Ruff challenges.
I don’t know what to reply to that.
Why haven’t I?
Dad cut me off, Mum has no respect for me, I’m not close to my brothers, I’m a nurse, my scent is strong…
They’re not good reasons. They’re all horrible excuses.
“I lived very far away,” I say.
Metaphorically, not literally. It’s bot a justification, just an explanation. I failed these children, after all.
“But I’ve moved a little closer now, so maybe I can visit all of sometimes in the future.”
“Couldn’t you just take a flight?”
These pups…
“I don’t like flying.”
Untrue. I enjoy flying. Just not jets or commercial planes.
“I don’t like homework, but I have to do it anyway,” Ruff argues.
“I get really sick on planes. I end up needing to visit the hospital and spend hours and hours every day. That’s why I don’t like it,” I explained without batting an eye. “So, I’m very sorry that I missed all of your important stuff. Every birthday, even contest, every holiday. Do you like your parents? Your mum and dad?”
“Yeah!” said the toddler, who stopped screaming out of curiosity. “Chup like!”
The other two children agree.
“They’re okay,” Ruff mutters.
I smile. “You all like how Mum smells? Better than Dad?”
It’s common for pups of betas to prefer—
“No! Papa smell! Chup likes papa smell!”
“Papa’s smell is better. It smells like home.”
“Papa’s and Mama’s smells are about the same.”
“Papa’s scent feels safer. Mama’s reminds me of outings, but Papa’s is always there.”
Huh.
My eldest brother must be very actively with his children. How does Mr CEO even talk to his children? Like everything they say is a report or a business proposal?
“So where are Mama and Papa now?”
“Hospital.”
“Why?”
“How can you not know?” Ruff says accusingly. “Mama is having another baby.”
“Oh… I knew that.”
Not at all. I didn’t know Francis had four children, even. Last I heard, he had two. No one bothered to update me on the newer additions.
“Is uncle Edmond taking care of you well?”
“No.”
Wow, that was definitive.
“Because…?”
I wait, but there’s no answer. Perhaps they can’t say why they feel it’s bad.
I can. But I won’t define it for them.
“All righty. Well, Nurse Leo is going to stay with you for the rest of the day. Okay? It won’t be all fun, sometimes I will be strict, but I will listen every time something is wrong and I won’t tell the adults. Pinky swear.”
I hold out my pinky.
“Let me share a secret: nurses aren’t allowed to tattle, unless you’re being hurt, you know?” I add. “And then I’d only tattle to the doctor, not Mama, Papa or uncle Emmy.”
“We don’t have an uncle named Emmy,” the second oldest says.
“I call uncle Edmond ‘Emmy’. I couldn’t say his name when I was little. I give you permission to use my childhood nickname for him too, okay? He’ll laugh when he hears you call him that, too.”
“Emmy!” the toddler says in excitement.
Ruff thinks for a while, then hooks his pinky to mine. “I don’t trust you, but if you break your promise, I will tell Papa.”
“Please do. Tell Papa about all the bad things I do. You can tattle on me, but I can’t tattle on you.”
The other kids also let me pinky swear I won’t tell what the pups don’t want to be shared.
“You’re such good kids. Can you tell me your names?”
“Francis,” Ruff says as he points to himself. “Nathanael, Linda, Timothy.”
I nod.
“And you’re Ruff…”
He points to his siblings in order. “Tweet, Squeak, and Chirp.”
“Got it. Are you all hungry? I haven’t had breakfast yet and I’m starving. I really want to eat pancakes and ice cream. What about you?”
“Pannies!” Chirp says excitedly.
“I want pancakes,” Squeak says quietly.
“Can I have ice cream?” Tweet asks.
“If Emmy says we can, we can have it for breakfast,” I promised.
Ruff is quiet for a while and then says, “I want jam, maybe.”
“With…?”
“Toast. I’ve never had that. I’ve heard others talk about it at school. Toast and jam.”
Right, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, probably.
“Let’s go raid the kitchen,” I say excitedly. “We’ll have breakfast decided by us pups,” I say and stand up. “I’ll go tell Emmy I want breakfast now. Anyone coming with Nurse Leo?”
Chirp took my outstretched hand. “Chup tell Emmy!”
“Great!”
Let’s make this day a good one until you get to meet your new sibling.
After all, I’m on your side, puppies, and for today, adults are my enemies.
Except Dex, of course. My mate is never my enemy. But these pups don’t need to know that.