A Fox's Family (Part 7)
#7 of A Fox's Family: A Tale of the House Delgado
Dennis sat there by himself in the cool stale air of the hospital waiting room. The tall, young, slender gazelle nurse, the stout chubby hippo at the receptionist desk, the elderly pelican doctor making his rounds. These were all faces the fox was familiar with. He knew them all too well for a boy his age. His step-father, the older boys at school and even a random stranger or to, seems everyone wanted to keep him in there and if not there in the tender arms of those in the profession of health and healing, then in the gloved hands of those who prepared the dead for burial.
A large bandage over his left eye held medicine in place to aid in the care of his bruised and beaten face, another bandage wrapped firmly around his fractured hand and the last over his chest and midsection to protect his healing ribs. Crispin had admitted the boy to the emergency ward hours earlier, claiming the fox had done it to himself jumping off the roof in a suicidal attempt to frame the 'caring and generous' man.
"Hey," said a rather unexpected voice. The 'large for his age' wolf approached slowly carrying a large sweater over one hefty, bulky arm. His fur a lighter shade of the black his father used to wear before it had turned mostly grey.
Dennis turned up and pulled the long dark red hair from his face. His eyes looking upon his step-brother with a neutral gaze of curiosity mixed with envy that the wolf never seemed to ever have suffered a similar beating in his life.
"What are you doing here?"
The fox was confused. Usually Crispin had picked him up in the past regardless of how he'd gotten there. Gloating and going on about how it was Dennis' own fault for the way things had turned out. That if he would just listen to his father, things would be much easier for him and so on.
"I told Dad that I'd do it. He didn't' care. He says you don't listen to him anyway." Curtis stood over his younger brother and tossed him the warm grey sweater. Curtis was always a bit overweight no matter how much he exercised and with a gentle face that could quickly turn menacing if properly encouraged. The fox kneaded it tenderly with his good hand as he stared down at the potential warmth while weighing the burdens within his heart.
"Why can't you...just, stop? You know? Just be like, normal for a little bit and then he won't hurt you so bad."
A fire blossomed within Dennis' heart. The raging furnace put there via the swing a fist against his fragile features. He wanted to scream at the wolf standing beside him. Yell and scream over and over again all the things he'd always wanted to spout into the face of that brutal animal he was forced to live with.
His fist clenched up tight and he began to cringe. Curtis caught this and began to slowly back up. The young man was confused. Unlike his younger brother, he hadn't received the same opportunities life had to offer. Curtis had often been at his father's foot, following the inept advice as if it were law despite the man's obvious shortcomings. The wolf's hate for his brother had come at an early age from seeing the fox succeed with education as well as love. Jealousy was an awful thing and when tainted by the spiteful words of his father, it became something else entirely. Yet even despite the old wolf's teachings, Curtis had a different perspective of things and recently it seemed like he was starting to feel a bit empathetic towards his sibling. But without knowledge and understanding, Curtis would forever be a puppet of the ignorant man whose genes he shared.
"I can't...." Dennis began, taking a long tired sigh to relieve some of the tension. His fist releasing and in a flash, he slipped the sweater over his head. Wincing a little as it rubbed against the sterile white covering his wounds. "I can't just stop being me. Curtis...this is who I am."
The words swayed through the wolf's mind for a moment as he watched his brother slowly stand up. His moment was critical for Curtis to understand. He was just becoming aware that regardless of the beatings, Dennis never seemed to give in. He wanted to know why and these words had already begun to lay the seeds of uncertainty.
"You...want something to eat?" Curtis mumbled, turning to catch up to the passing fox.
"Yeah, sure," Dennis replied.