Thirteen (19 page)

“Want some Skittles?” he said.

“What I
want
is for Lars to call me,” I said. “He promised he would, but he hasn't. Why hasn't he called?”

“I have no idea.” He dangled his candy in front of me. “Skittles?”

I focused on the neon green package. Sour Skittles—not my fave. I wasn't hungry anyway.

“No, thanks.”

“Say ‘yes',” he said.

“Fine. Yes.”

He jerked the Skittles away, holding them as far away from me as his arm would allow. “Ha ha, tricked you!”

I regarded him with infinite hurt and betrayal, far more than the situation called for. I was fully aware I was doing it, and I felt fully justified, too. He had acted unkindly. Unkind behavior called for reprisal.

Ty's brown eyes went wide. “No, wait, you can have some. Hold out your hand.”

“It's too late,” I said.

Ty's lower lip quivered, which not everyone would have noticed. But I did, because I was the best at knowing when he was upset. Like if he saw a dead squirrel or something, I knew he'd worry about it and want me to say a prayer with him. “I hope you are happy in heaven,” he'd say, peeking at my face to make sure I was praying, too. “Amen.”

“Just push that joke away,” he said. He reached over and pressed on my lower lip, which was jutted out in an exaggerated pout. “And push that face away!”

I ignored him. His breath got fast. Yes, it hurt me, too, but tough.

“Winnie?” Mom said, clopping into the den in the clogs she'd taken to wearing. The pregnancy was making her feet swell, and clogs worked better than her normal high heels. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

Great,
I thought, expecting to get scolded for being mean to Ty.

But when I followed her into the hall, Mom took my hand and said, “Baby, I need you to do something for me. I need you to go with Ty to the hospital.”

My stomach dropped out of my body. “What? Why?”

“To visit Joseph.”

I must have looked blank—which I was, but not for the reason she thought—because she said, “His friend who's so sick?”

“No, I know who he is.” I tried to get my act together. “Why's he in the hospital?”

Mom squeezed my hand. “He's not doing well, Winnie. None of the treatments have done what they hoped.”

Oh, no
, I thought. “But he's not…I mean, he's not going to—”

“I hope not. But Joseph's mom let Mrs. Webber know that Joseph would appreciate visitors, and I think that's a really nice idea. I'd take Ty myself”—she glanced at her watch—“but Mimi from my prenatal group is throwing me a surprise baby shower. I have to be there.”

“A
surprise
baby shower?”

“Well, it's supposed to be a surprise,” she said. “But this is my fourth time on the baby train, you know. I know the signs.”

“Couldn't you take Ty tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow's not good. Joseph has chemo.”

“I thought you said the treatments weren't working.”

She sighed.

“Mom?”

“It's complicated. And honestly, if it were one of you…”

“If it was one of us, what?”

“Chemo is hard. Hard on the kids, hard on the parents.” She paused. “But sometimes, I guess, it's even harder to give up.”

I didn't want to think about that. I refused to think about that. “There could always be a miracle,” I said.

“That's true,” she said. “There could always be a miracle.”

The hallway where we stood was dark, even though it was only four o'clock. This part of the house always got dark first, because there were no windows. I could see Mom's face, but it was difficult to read her expression.

“Winnie…do you not
want
to go with Ty to visit Joseph?”

I stubbed my sock-footed toe on the hardwood floor. What was I supposed to say?
It's not that, it's just that I don't want to miss a call from my boyfriend, who doesn't know how to tell other girls he's taken?

“It doesn't have to be a long visit,” Mom went on. “I'd drop you guys off on my way to Mimi's, and then Dad would pick you up on his way home from work. You'd be there probably an hour.”

I was such a jerk. Such a pathetic loser for caring about my own problems when Joseph's were so much worse.

“Joseph's mom doesn't want him to get tired out, anyway,” Mom said.

“Okay, yes, I'll go,” I said.

“Great,” Mom said. She stepped into the den and projected her voice. “Ty, want to go visit Joseph at the hospital?”

Ty turned from the TV. First he looked at me to see if I was still mad at him, and when he saw I wasn't, he untangled his legs. “Can I bring Sneaky Bob?”

“Sure,” Mom said. Her expression went soft as she watched him slide down from his pile of pillows, and her hand—the one not holding mine—went to her rounded belly. I don't know if she even realized it.

“Grab your jackets, you two,” she said. “It's cold out.”

 

Joseph's hospital room was pale blue with a border of clown wallpaper. A bouquet of miniature balloons on plastic sticks sat on the table, along with a slew of teddy bears and get-well cards.
Get well
, as if it were Joseph's choice and he just had to snap to it. I know nobody meant anything cruel by the cards, or anything other than
We love you, we're thinking about you, we're praying for you
. But seeing them all jaunty on the table made me feel like the world was a sad, sad place. I wasn't very good at sadness.

“Dad'll be here soon to pick you up,” Mom said, kissing the top of Ty's head. She smiled tentatively at Mrs. Strand, Joseph's mother.

“I've got to run,” Mom told her, “but Winnie's going to stay and hang out with the boys. She's very responsible, if you want to get a cup of coffee or something.”

Mrs. Strand nodded. Circles shadowed her eyes. “I could use some coffee. I think I will.” She looked at Joseph. “Joseph? If you need juice, or more crackers, just ask Winnie, all right?”

“Or me,” Ty said. So far he'd stayed glued to my side, but now he edged closer to the metal railings of Joseph's bed.

“And push the call button if you feel like you need Nurse Anna to come check on you,” Mrs. Strand said.

“Mo-o-om,” Joseph said. He was upright in his bed, propped on two pillows. His red knit cap looked bigger than it used to. His eyebrows no longer existed, I guess because of the chemo, and his skin was raw and rashy.

“All right, all right,” Mrs. Strand said in the martyred tone of mothers everywhere. “It's just that I love you, that's all.”

“I
know
,” Joseph said.

Finally the grown-ups left, and it was just me, Ty, and Joseph.

“So, um, how are you feeling?” I asked, and immediately hated myself. How was that any better than
Get well soon
?

“Okay,” Joseph said. His arm was rashy, just like his face. He scratched it.

“I like your shirt,” Ty said. It was dark blue with a bright yellow sun on it, and underneath was the word
HOTLANTA
.

“Thanks,” Joseph said in a monotone.

Well this is going to be fun for all of us
, I thought to myself.

Ty walked over to Joseph's bed and held up Sneaky Bob. “This is Sneaky Bob Lizard. He's a lizard.” Then, realizing how he'd repeated himself, Ty thwacked his head. “Duh!”

“Is he a Komodo Dragon lizard?” Joseph asked.

“Probably. You can hold him, but he's heavy.” Ty heaved Sneaky Bob over the rail and dropped him on Joseph's chest.

“
Ooof
,” Joseph said, just as I cried, “Ty!” I rushed over, but Joseph was grinning under the weight of Sneaky Bob.

Joseph hefted Sneaky Bob onto the bed rail and said, “Watch this.” He nudged Sneaky Bob's abdomen, and Sneaky Bob fell to the floor with a satisfying thud.

Ty cackled. He snatched Sneaky Bob up and balanced him on the rail at the bottom of the bed, which was higher than the side rails. “Geronimo!” he exclaimed, shoving Sneaky Bob off.

“Don't be too rough,” I warned. “He'll pop, and beans will fly everywhere.”

“Beans?” Joseph said.

“No, poop!” Ty said, thrusting Sneaky Bob in Joseph's face. “Poop will fly everywhere and hit you in the eye!”

“
Ty
!” I said.

“And pee,” Joseph said. He reached down and wiggled a clear plastic bag hanging from an IV pole. It was half full of a pale yellow liquid; I suddenly realized what it was. “My pee bag will explode and pee will go everywhere!”

I made the sign of the cross, partly for effect and partly for real. Ty and Joseph were deep in seven-year-old-boy land; nothing I could do was going to save me. “Gross, you guys!”

The poop became a poop mountain; the pee became a pee ocean. And then somehow a Poop and Pee Airline was invented to fly travelers to Poop Mountain and Pee Ocean, although the code name for the airline was Dolphin Airlines, to keep the unsuspecting from being tipped off.

Um…
yeah
. I backed away slowly and carefully and vowed to beware any airlines named for sea mammals.

Mrs. Strand returned just as Sneaky Bob took a death-defying plunge off the table, his tail lashing the cards into a pile of invisible poop. Ty and Joseph guffawed. Mrs. Strand's eyebrows shot up.

I hopped out of the chair.

“Oh, gosh, I'm so sorry,” I said. I knelt to gather the cards.

“Don't worry,” Mrs. Strand said.

“I don't think they hurt anything—I mean, well, except for the cards, but—”

“Winnie,” Mrs. Strand said. “Seriously, it's fine.”

I raised my head and saw that she meant it. In one hand she held a box of granola bars, and in the other a plastic-wrapped ten-pack of juice boxes. She looked different than when we'd first gotten here. Not happier, exactly, but once again ready to take it on, the pain and unfairness her child was going through.

Joseph's chortling helped. I saw it in her eyes.

When we left twenty minutes later, Sneaky Bob stayed behind. Ty checked with me first, clutching my shirt and yanking me to his level.

“Ow,” I complained.

“I think Sneaky Bob wants to stay here,” he whispered.

“You do?”

“With Joseph. But I don't want to hurt your feelings.”

For just a second, it did hurt my feelings. Which was crazy. And then that selfishness went away, and I thought,
Oh, Ty
.

“You want to give Sneaky Bob to Joseph? Forever?” I asked.

He nodded. His fingers tightened around Sneaky Bob's green scales, and I knew he honestly did want to. I also knew he was already missing him.

“It won't hurt my feelings,” I said.

So Ty gave Sneaky Bob to Joseph, who propped him beside him on the overstuffed hospital pillow. At first Mrs. Strand got all motherish and said, “No, no.” But she relented when the faces of both boys fell.

“Well…all right,” she said. “Thank you, Ty. That was very, very nice.” She turned to Joseph. “Joseph, is there anything you want to say?”

“Poop,” Joseph said solemnly.

He and Ty fell to pieces.

 

It was after six by the time we got home. Ty turned on the kitchen lights while Dad plonked the McDonald's bags on the table and lifted out burgers and fries. Sandra was having dinner with Bo, and Mom was still at her baby shower, so Dad, Ty, and I were feasting on quarter pounders and fries.

Only, I didn't know if I was hungry. Maybe yes, maybe no. The red light on the answering machine was blinking: it all depended on what happened when I pressed the “
PLAY
” button.

I pressed. Mom's voice filled the kitchen, reminding Dad of the new McDonald's rule, which was that we had to get milk, chocolate milk, or O.J. as our drink, as if that would balance out the vats of grease in our meals.

“Too late!” crowed Ty, slurping his Coke.

Next came a message from Sandra's friend, Elise. Boring.

And that was it. Just those two messages, no more. I checked caller ID, to see if Lars had called but not left a message. He hadn't.

Well. That was that, then. The kitchen felt empty without the hustle-and-bustle cheerfulness of Mom. Sandra, if she were here, would either be grouchy and sullen or hilariously cheeky, and I missed her, too. The smell of cheese and dead cow wrapped around me.