I mean, we'll figure this all out. We will."
"Blah, blah, blah."
The door opened behind him. He turned. The nurse and a
middle-aged couple entered the room. "Mr. Jones, Ivy's parents
would like to be with her now."
He looked at Ivy. He could not see her face.
"Get better," he said to her and she responded with a huffing
sound.
The man came before Peter. His face was tanned and pleasant, and
the woman at his side was attractive. Her hair was bright, like
Ivy's. She looked at Peter sadly, and pressed her husband forward
an inch.
He spoke. "Mr. Jones, we'd like to know how you intend to take
care of this."
"Dad," Ivy said to the window, "lay off. We're dealing with it."
"We had hoped you wouldn't come," Mrs. Green said. "We would be
the child's guardians if you hadn't. We'll gladly take care of
her."
"Get out," Ivy said, poking Peter in the ribs. "Just get out with
it all."
"This child's an enormous responsibility," the father said.
"Please let us take her."
"Right, Dad. Like you know all about it. Got a joint on you?"
"I can take care of her," Peter said, clutching the knapsack with
both hands. "And I will provide for Ivy."
"You sure will," Ivy piped in. "I'll send you the tab." She
snorted and laughed, then she started crying. Her father glanced
her way, then looked at Peter.
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