Chapter 6 - Glue and Patience
By Tuesday, Toby was transferred to the step-down pediatric wing. The room was brighter, decorated with painted murals of hot air balloons and forest animals.
Marcus had not left the hospital. His executive assistant had brought clean clothes, a laptop, and three urgent signature folders. Marcus signed the documents without reading the footnotes—a gesture that would have stunned his board of directors—and pushed the laptop aside.
While Toby was undergoing morning physical therapy evaluation, Marcus sat at the small bedside desk.
On the table lay a tube of industrial epoxy adhesive and the broken yellow excavator. Marcus carefully applied a microscopic bead of glue to the shattered joint. His fingers, accustomed to handling million-dollar contracts, were surprisingly steady as he aligned the tiny plastic parts. He held them together for ten minutes, watching the second hand on his wristwatch tick away.
When Toby was wheeled back into the room, he looked pale and exhausted from having his leg manipulated.
Marcus stepped forward, helping the orderly transfer Toby back into the fresh sheets. Once settled, Marcus reached behind his back.
"Here," Marcus said simply, setting the excavator onto Toby’s lap tray.
Toby looked down. The yellow plastic scoop was attached. A thin line of clear resin marked the fracture, but the joint pivoted smoothly when he touched it.
"You fixed Leo?" Toby asked, his voice tinged with surprise.
"He took a hard hit," Marcus said, sitting down in the chair right beside the mattress. "His arm was snapped off. But with a little patience and the right glue, things that get broken can still do their job."
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Toby looked at the toy, then up into Marcus’s eyes. For the first time since the accident, the boy’s lips curved into a tiny, tentative smile. "He’s got a scar now. Like me."
"Yeah," Marcus nodded softly. "Just like you. Makes him tougher."
