Paula was crouched in front of him near the stairs, holding his face in both hands and saying something only he could hear.
I thought about her translating an entire football game into his palm because she refused to let fear become the only memory he carried into surgery.
Then I said, “Whatever happens, he won’t face it alone.”
The next afternoon, Dean texted me a screenshot.
Paula had posted from the hospital.
The surgery went well. Eli was resting.
And at the end, she wrote:
Thank you, Section 112.
