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Huey, Dewey, and Louie Duck sat crammed together in the backseat of Donald’s jalopy as they pulled into the hospital parking lot.
Huey readjusted his cap on his head again and again, fidgeting relentlessly. He hated hospitals.
He hated this one especially.
Every Tuesday morning at 11am, they would park in the lot behind the old glass and brick children’s hospital, take the elevator up three floors, and walk down the long narrow hallway all the way to the very end. A faded green sign hung above the doorway, a letter missing. Sp ech Therapy.
Huey didn’t know how much these appointments cost his uncle, but he knew they weren’t free. He felt anger bubble up in his chest as he gripped his knapsack tightly. He shouldn’t have to come here. His uncle shouldn’t have to spend anything on him. And not for this. He should keep it for dinner. For Dewey and Louie’s birthday presents. For Christmas. For literally anything else.
Why should they spend good money teaching Huey to talk, when it was something any good kid could figure out on their own.
Huey kept his eyes on the floor as he walked behind his brothers, dragging his feet.
Every Tuesday morning at 11 am, like clockwork, Huey would attend his scheduled appointment, always on time and ready. He didn’t like it, but it was familiar.
Until today.
“Oh, Mr. Duck. I’m so sorry.” Drawled the secretarybird at the desk, sounding entirely disinterested and not at all sorry. “Hubert’s appointment was rescheduled to 10:30 today. We sent you an email. Did you not get it?”
Confusion and frustration knotted together within Huey. That wasn’t right. His appointment was at 11am. It was always at 11am.
There was a beat of silence, before Uncle Donald grit out, “No. We don’t have internet at home. I left my phone number. They always contact me by phone.”
“Hmm, that must have slipped through the cracks in the transition.”
“Transition?”
“Mhmm.” The receptionist spoke in a high, twanging accent. The audible insincerity grated on Huey’s nerves. “We’re transferring all our files over to the new doctor.” She explained. “Dr. Sparrowson is retiring. We’ve been transferring all of her patients to our new speech therapist, Dr. Duckett.”
Huey felt hands steady him as he let out a tiny, indignant grunt. Dewey and Louie were pressed in close at his sides, looking across him at each other with heavy expressions.
“She can’t retire…” He said quietly. Too quiet for Donald or the secretary to hear him. “She never told me she was retiring! She would have told me!” He insisted, speaking to himself more than anyone else. His hands balled into little feathered fists at his sides.
Donald let out a frustrated sigh. “Well, can she still fit us in?” He asked. “It isn’t exactly a short drive here, and you had my phone number. You could have called.”
The secretary leveled him with an annoyed glance as she checked her computer lazily. “Hm. No. But I suppose we can waive the missed appointment fee, just this once. ”
Donald splayed a hand on the desk and ground out; “How kind of you.”
A surge of anxiety coursed through Huey's body, his carefully constructed world unraveling before him. His hands shook uncontrollably, his backpack slipping through his trembling fingers and landing on the floor in a heap. He struggled to hold back tears, feeling the weight of frustration wash over him.
Donald turned around to gather his three children from the hard plastic waiting room seats, only to find Huey pressed tight between his brothers with his whole body trembling
Huey hunched over, face burning, tears leaking from his tightly shut eyelids. He was painfully aware of the spectacle he was making, but the intensity of his reaction was beyond his control. With his brothers' support, he slid bonelessly from his seat and onto the floor, feathers shaking and shivering as he wrapped his wings around his knees.
Huey's frustration mixed with shame, and he found himself unable to speak, his words trapped in the back of his throat. Unable to find his voice, his inability to articulate his feelings compounded his distress. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him. His brothers, Uncle Donald, the receptionist. The old hen sitting in the corner. The routine-driven, responsible persona that usually defined Huey was completely stripped away as his tenuous control slipped.
“No! NO! No no no!” His face was red with frustration.
His schedule was important . His schedule kept things where, and when, they ought to be. It had to be followed. If he couldn’t trust his schedule, what could he trust? Certainly not himself! A hysteric laugh bubbled up from his chest, but turned into another sob as it spilled out of his bill and into the stagnant recycled waiting room air. He wiped at his eyes, whining and grunting and shaking his head and growling through grit teeth.
Dewey and Louie exchanged worried glances, crouched on either side of Huey, their hearts aching for their brother. Dewey reached out carefully, placing a hand on Huey’s elbow. Huey’s reaction to touch was a solid 50/50 when he was like this, either throwing himself into it for comfort, or screaming and slapping you away. "Hey, Huey, it's okay. We're here with you.”
In this case, Huey shrieked, but didn’t throw Dewey’s hand off or try to bite him.
Louie counted that as a win, and took it as permission to gently reach out and offer his hand, giving Huey a lifeline to hold onto. "Let's take some deep breaths together, Huey. You've got this."
Huey scowled up at him suspiciously with red rimmed, watering eyes, but reluctantly took his hand. And squeezed.
Louie hid his wince as he guided Huey through deep breaths.
Dewey spoke softly. "It's okay to be upset. It was super uncool of them to reschedule your appointment without telling Uncle Donald.”
Louie squeezed Huey’s hand back, his eyes locked onto Huey's trembling form. "You're not alone, Huey. We're right here."
Huey's breath hitched as he attempted to regulate his breathing, his chest rising and falling erratically.
Through tear-filled eyes, Huey gazed at his brothers, a mixture of gratitude and frustration etched across his face. He knew they understood him, but the internal embarrassment persisted. The knowledge that he was making a scene, that he was overreacting, adding another layer of complexity to his anger.
As Dewey and Louie guided him through deep breaths, Huey's shaking began to subside, his sobs gradually quieting, but not diminishing in force.
The receptionist watched as Huey's distress escalated, his body trembling uncontrollably and tears streaming down his face. Confusion (and thinly veiled annoyance) clouded her features, unsure of what had triggered such an intense reaction from the young duck. She leaned over the desk and extended a box of tissues toward him, her voice laced with something harder to identify. "Are you okay?"
Huey’s watery glare snapped up to the receptionist, his expression a mixture of frustration, anger, and embarrassment. He wanted to explain, to tell her why he was feeling this way, but the words remained lodged in his throat. He growled instead. It was her fault for changing his appointment.
Dewey was quick to step forward and gently took the tissues from the receptionist's hand. He gave a small nod of gratitude before turning his attention back to his distressed brother. Kneeling beside Huey, he softly squeezed his hand, his touch a comforting presence. He matched his breathing to Huey's, a silent understanding passing between them.
Donald, not appreciating the receptionist's open staring, stepped between her and her sightline of the boys. "Huey's routine is really important to him. Any changes can be really upsetting." He explained flatly, accusation coming through in every word.
Donald scooped Huey up in his arms. The irritated duckling gripped his feathers tightly, clinging to him as he shook his head in denial and burying angry, honking sobs into his chest.
As the car hummed along the familiar streets of Duckburg, an oppressive silence enveloped the back seat where Huey sat sandwiched between Dewey and Louie, broken only by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional sound of traffic passing by. In the back seat, Huey sat hunched over, his body tense and his fingers fidgeting restlessly, pulling loose threads from the already threadbare upholstery of the seat cushions.
Dewey and Louie exchanged concerned glances. This wasn’t by any means the worst meltdown they’d witnessed, but that didn’t make it any easier.
Huey's gaze remained fixed on his hands, unable to meet his brothers' eyes. He felt the weight of embarrassment and shame bearing down on him, a heavy burden that seemed impossible to shake. He rocked back and forth, whining quietly in the back of his throat.
His voice, though faint and strained, finally broke the silence. "S-sorry, guys..."
Dewey turned his head slightly to look at Huey, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Huey, you have nothing to be sorry for."
Huey's body swayed slightly, his hands clutching his knees as he rocked. His words came out in fragmented whispers, barely audible over the hum of the engine. "I'm sorry... sorry... messed up... appointment..."
Dewey's heart ached as he glanced at Huey, his fingers reaching into his backpack. He took out his blue and silver spinner and handed it to Huey. "Hey, Huey, it's okay. We're not mad. Don't worry about it."
Huey gave the spinner one fierce shove, and glared at it as it whirled in his hand.
Louie turned slightly in his seat, his voice soft and reassuring. "Yeah, Huey. We're not upset with you. It's okay."
Fresh tears pooled in the corners of Huey's eyes as he snatched the fidget toy in his fist, stopping its motion and clutching it tight as he continued to rock. The weight of his perceived failures and the embarrassment of his meltdown bore down on him, a suffocating cloak of shame. His attempts at communication were strained, his words catching in his throat as he struggled to convey his remorse.
Huey's bill quivered as he tried to form words, his throat constricted. "I...I...I embarrassed you..."
Louie grabbed Huey’s face in his hands and turned it towards him, leaning forward and squishing their faces together. "Huey, we're not embarrassed. Your routine is important, and that dumb bird messed it all up. It’s not your fault.”
Donald reached into the back seat, resting his hand on Huey's knee, his touch a reassuring presence. "Huey, listen to me. We’re your family. We love you. You don't have to apologise."
The emotions within Huey reached a boiling point, his body trembling uncontrollably as a wave of nausea washed over him. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his distress threatening to overwhelm him entirely.
"Dewey, the bag..." Louie whispered urgently, his own concern evident as he motioned to a discarded plastic grocery bag at Huey's feet.
Dewey quickly grabbed it from the floor, handing it to Huey just in time as he leaned over and retched, his body heaving.
As the episode passed, Huey's shoulders slumped, his body exhausted from the release of pent-up tension. Donald pulled the car over so Dewey could throw out the plastic bag. When he got back in the car, he and Louie both leaned against Huey, squishing him in the middle. It was Huey’s favourite place to be, and the contact seemed to sooth him.
Louie's voice was gentle, "We've got you, big bro."
Huey's breath hitched as he wiped his mouth, tears mingling with the remnants of his distress. Dewey handed him a tissue, and Huey accepted it with trembling hands, his sobs escaping in earnest now. He looked at his brothers through tear-blurred eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of their understanding and support.
Through his tears, Huey managed to utter a few more words, his voice choked with emotion. "I don't... deserve... such good brothers."
Dewey’s heart broke as he reached out and held Huey's hand, their fingers intertwining. He hated when Huey said things like that. "Huey, don’t ever say that.” He said fiercely.
Louie nodded, his voice gentle but firm. "You're our big brother, Huey. We look up to you. And we'll always be here to support you, just like you support us."
Huey's sobs gradually subsided, his grip on the fidget toy and his brothers' hands serving as anchors in the storm of his emotions. “Sorry…” He whispered again, unable to help himself. Thankfully, nobody drew attention to it. They’d spoken their piece, and Huey appreciated it. Really, he did. He knew his family loved him.
He wished he could just… get through a day without freaking out.
He wished he could be normal , so uncle Donald didn’t need to drive out of town to bring him to therapy every week.
He wished he could force the words in his head to come out of his mouth.
He wished he could be less of a burden.
He knew his family didn’t see it that way, but that’s what he was. Making Donald take a day off of work, making his brothers miss morning classes every Tuesday because it was the only timeslot available, and he couldn’t go to the hospital without them. He couldn’t go anywhere without them. Uncle Donald had tried before. It resulted in a hole in the wall, Huey screaming on the floor, and refusing to let his brothers out of his sight for days.
He wished he could stop making such a mess of everything.