Paul let out an exasperated breath.
The doorbell rang.
“Okay,” Mom Rachel said. “Please at least wash your hands afterward.”
“I wash my hands constantly.”
Mama Dee squeezed his shoulder. “We know this is tough, bud.”
Mom Rachel opened the door for the first trick-or-treaters—a fairy princess and a firefighter—both girls.
They reminded Abby of Cat and her as little girls trick-or-treating together. She didn’t want to think about how much she missed her friend tonight. “Let’s go,” she said to Conrad.
He followed Abby out into the warm evening air.
“Hey, you two!”
It was Conrad’s mom, standing at the end of their driveway, holding a bowl to her waist.
Conrad held up a hand. “Hey, Mom.”
“Come over,” she said.
Abby followed Conrad next door. She noticed Ms. Miller’s bowl was filled with Smarties and Dum Dums lollipops—the cheap candy.
“Aren’t you two a little old to be going out?” she asked.
“Mom,” Conrad complained.
“What? Halloween is for little kids. You a little kid?” She poked him in the shoulder.
He pulled back. “We’ve gotta go.”
She shrugged. “Have fun, you two lovebirds.”
Conrad shook his head and marched off.
Abby followed him down the street, wondering how someone as sensitive as Conrad could have come from someone who seemed so insensitive.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“It’s okay,” Abby said.
They walked down their street, past all the people giving out candy, and ended up side by side on swings at the playground, where it was particularly dark. Conrad dropped his basketball in the wood chips near their feet.
The darkness allowed Abby to ask a question she’d been wondering about. “Do you ever see your dad?”
Conrad coughed. “My dad?”
Abby nodded as she gently pushed herself back and forth on the swing. “Don’t answer if you don’t want to.”
Conrad’s swing wasn’t moving. He wasn’t looking at Abby. “It’s not that. No one ever asks me about him.”
Abby swallowed hard. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t be. My mom and dad used to fight all the time. I remember a lot of yelling and doors slamming when I was little.”
Abby couldn’t imagine that. If anything, her moms were too mushy and affectionate with each other.
Conrad spoke quietly. “My dad lives in another state with another family.”
“Oh.” Abby turned toward him. “Do you ever get to see your dad?”
He held on to the chains of the swing and turned to look at her. “I stay over sometimes on holidays. I like it there.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, it’s quiet. My dad’s an artist, and his wife is really nice to me.”
Abby imagined Conrad’s dad was sensitive like him.
Conrad jumped off his swing and grabbed the basketball. “Let’s go get some candy, Turtle Girl.”
So they did.
Tons of it.
When they got back, Abby’s moms were outside talking with Conrad’s mom at the end of their driveway. Everyone chatted for a while, then Conrad and his mom went back home. And Abby and her moms went back in and turned out their porch light because they’d run out of candy.
“Glad we finally had a chance to chat with Conrad’s mom,” Mom Rachel said.
“Yeah.” Mama Dee sat on the couch. “Sounds like she works a lot.”
Abby nodded. “Conrad says she’s always picking up extra shifts.”
Mama Dee took off her shoes and wiggled her toes. “It’s not easy, especially as a single parent.”
“True.” Mom Rachel clicked on the TV. “She sounds really proud of Conrad.”
That was nice for Abby to hear.
While her moms watched a TV show, Abby picked out all the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups from her Halloween candy and gave them to Paul, because they were his favorite.
* * *
The following Sunday evening in early November, Abby was working on math homework at the dining room table.
She pressed her pencil extra hard because she was frustrated. Numbers didn’t make as much sense to Abby as words and their meanings. Plus, her teacher went so fast when he explained things in class, it was hard to keep up.
“Whatcha working on?” Paul asked.
Abby bit the metal around her pencil’s eraser. “Word problems with variable exponents. It’s confusing.”
“Let me see.”
Abby passed the paper to Paul, glad he was still able to help her with homework. “You nervous?”
He blinked. “About math?”
She shook her head. “About going in for your second chemo treatment tomorrow.”
“Mm-hmm.” He tapped the table. “I was scared to go in the first time because I didn’t know what to expect. But I’m more scared to go in this time because I do. And the effects are cumulative, so I’ll probably feel even sicker this round.”
Abby squinched up her nose. “I’m sorry, Paul.” She couldn’t imagine this getting worse and worse through four weeklong treatments.
“Hey, let’s tackle this math. Okay?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
When Paul bent over the paper, a clump of his hair fell onto it. It looked like a small nest of hair.
Abby gasped.
“Oh, man.” Paul leaned back. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry,” Abby said in a tight voice. She felt her stomach turn, and she pushed down the urge to vomit. “Paul, that’s a lot of hair right there. But I know it’s not your fault. Sorry if I made you feel bad.”
“You didn’t. It’s been falling out like that—in clumps. It’s on my pillow when I wake up. It even gets in my mouth.”
“Ew.” Abby wished she’d stop saying the exact wrong thing. She knew Paul must already feel terrible about his hair coming out, and she didn’t mean to make it worse with her reactions.
“I know. It’s gross. And it’s worse in the shower. That’s why I haven’t been washing my hair much lately. Figure I’ll hang on to what I have as long as I can.”
Abby had noticed how greasy her brother’s hair had been. It made her sad to think about why he hadn’t been washing it.
“Guess I’d better get used to the fact that it’s going to fall out no matter what I do. Maybe I should shave it off and get it over with.”
“That sounds drastic. Could you wear a hat to keep it on or something?”
“Not sure that’s going to work, Six-Pack.”
Another dumb idea, Abby. Maybe it’s time to stop talking.
“Let’s just do this math. Okay?”
Abby nodded.
Paul explained the problems to Abby, but as hard as she tried to focus, she couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying because she kept waiting for more of Paul’s hair to fall out in gross clumps. And thinking about that instead of paying attention to him when he was helping her made Abby feel like the worst sister in the world.
Round Two
As Abby and Mama Dee walked from the parking lot to the hospital’s entrance, Abby noticed pink layers sweeping across the light blue sky as the sun set. A soft breeze rustled palm fronds on tall trees near the hospital’s entrance.
It’s beautiful out here, Abby thought. And Paul is stuck inside. She wondered if he was at least watching the sunset from his room. Wondered if his room faced the west so he could watch it at all. She hoped so. But even if he were, he wouldn’t be able to feel the coolness in the breeze that told her the season’s heat had finally broken and cooler weather had arrived. He couldn’t smell the hint of ocean with its salty scent that tickled Abby’s nose.
Abby wished she could capture it all and bring it inside to her brother or bring him outside to experience it, but he was hooked up to his chemotherapy, so he wasn’t going an
ywhere other than his bed, the bathroom, or on a slow shuffle-walk down the hall to the teen lounge.
It’s like he’s a prisoner, Abby thought.
As soon as the hospital’s automatic doors whooshed open, air-conditioning hit Abby’s skin, which made it prickle with goose bumps. And instead of smelling faintly of the ocean, the hospital smelled faintly of bleach.
Even the bright, cheerful decorations on the way to Paul’s room didn’t lighten Abby’s heart. The happy “Hello!” from a couple of the nurses didn’t lift her mood one bit.
All the fun decorations in the world and the kind staff couldn’t change the fact that this was a sad place. Abby felt that sadness deep in her heart. She knew Paul must feel it too.
As Abby and Mama Dee walked into Paul’s hospital room, Ethan was walking out.
“Hey there, Abs!” Ethan gave Abby a hug.
This made her feel a little better. At least Paul has been surrounded by people who love him.
“Our guy’s doing okay in there,” Ethan said.
But Abby thought Ethan’s smile seemed strained. She could feel the sadness in him, too.
“Glad you’re here,” Mama Dee said, pounding Ethan on the back. “You’re a good friend.”
Abby thought Mama Dee might have wanted to say that Jake should be here too, because he should. But Abby hadn’t seen him since that one time he came over to the house when she and Paul were playing Monopoly.
Ethan nodded. “I’ve got to go to my job now, but I’ll visit again soon.”
“Thank you,” Mama Dee said. She took a deep breath and squeezed Abby’s hand, and they walked into the room together.
In the hospital room, Mom Rachel was in the chair by the foot of Paul’s bed. Paul was sitting up in bed with a pink plastic pan on his lap. His hair was gone now—he’d finally asked Mama Dee to shave it off when it was looking sparse and awful—and he was wearing the stupid baseball cap with the squirrel holding its acorns. Abby stared; she was trying to get used to her brother without hair, but he seemed like a stranger.
“Take a photo. It’ll last longer,” Paul said.
Abby shrank back. “Sorry.”
Mama Dee made a face. “Be nice to your sister, mister. It’s a lot to get used to.”
“It’s a lot for me to get used to.” Paul gagged and lifted the plastic pan toward his mouth, but then leaned back. “This sucks so bad.”
“It does,” Mom Rachel said. “It really does, sweetheart.”
“I want to be home. I want to feel better.” He lifted his arm with the IV attached and dropped it back down onto the bed like he didn’t have the energy to hold it up a moment longer. “I want this stupid thing out of my arm.”
“I know, honey.” Mom Rachel squeezed her hands into fists. “I know you do.”
Mom Rachel flashed Mama Dee a look that Abby thought meant this was harder than any of them had expected.
Paul made a strange gurgling noise, then a stream of vomit erupted from his mouth and splashed into the pink pan on his lap.
“Oh.” Abby pressed herself against the wall and looked out the window. The sun had already set. It was getting dark. Paul had missed the whole beautiful thing. And it didn’t smell like the ocean in his room; it smelled like puke.
Abby turned back toward her brother.
Paul swiped an arm across his mouth. “Get her out of here!” he managed before a volcano of vomit erupted all over his blanket.
“Take her,” Mama Dee said, gently pushing Abby toward Mom Rachel. “You go home and get a break. I’ll stay here.”
Mom Rachel nodded and steered Abby out of the room.
They stopped just outside the door.
Abby could still hear Paul retching. She hunched her shoulders, as if she could hitch them high enough to cover her ears and block out the horrible sound.
Mom Rachel grabbed a nurse nearby. “My son will need some help in there.”
The nurse headed into Paul’s room.
Mama Dee slipped out and hugged Mom Rachel. They rocked back and forth.
Mom Rachel pulled back and bit her bottom lip. “He’s been vomiting like this for a while. They said he’ll get some medicine in his IV that should get it under control, but…”
Mama Dee held Mom Rachel again.
Reaching a hand out, Mama Dee grabbed Abby’s fingers and gave a reassuring squeeze.
Mom Rachel cried on Mama Dee’s shoulder. “The doctor said Paul’s getting every side effect in the book this time. She doesn’t know how we’ll get him through all his treatments.”
Mama Dee held Mom Rachel tighter. “We’ll find a way.”
Mama Dee’s voice sounded strong and sure. Abby wanted to believe her. But then Paul vomited again, which elevated the worried feeling in Abby’s stomach. The nurse in his room spoke calmly, but Abby couldn’t make out her words.
“I’d better get back in there.” Mama Dee gave Mom Rachel and Abby one more squeeze and then slipped back into the room.
Mom Rachel put an arm around Abby’s shoulders and sniffed. “Let’s get you out of here, sweet pea. We’ll visit again when your brother’s feeling better.”
Part of Abby couldn’t wait to get out of that hospital, but another part of her wanted to stay in Paul’s hospital room the entire time he was there so he’d never be alone. But even Paul didn’t want her there now. He had yelled for her to get out, which hurt her heart.
Abby felt guilty the moment the automatic doors opened and she escaped into the cool, clean air with her mom. All Paul wanted to do was leave the hospital, and he couldn’t. “It’s not fair,” Abby said.
“No, it’s not,” Mom Rachel replied. “It’s definitely not.”
As soon as Abby got home, she went into her room and texted Cat to tell her what had happened.
Even though she knew Cat was probably sleeping, Abby kept checking her phone for a response. Eventually, she slid it under her pillow and fell asleep.
The phone’s ringing woke Abby in the morning.
“How are you?”
Cat’s voice filled Abby’s tired brain with love.
“Thanks for calling.”
“Of course I called. How are you doing?”
Abby started crying. Everyone was so concerned with how Paul was doing; it was nice to have someone care about her. “I miss you so much.” What Abby held back saying was I need you.
“You have no idea how much I wish I were there,” Cat said. “Especially with what’s going on with Paul. I hate being so far away, Abs.”
After Cat had to go, Abby still had time before Conrad would come over to walk to school together, so she pulled out a pen and her journal—because it made her feel closer to Cat—and she told the truth on the page.
Alone and Scared
Paul is there,
Alone and scared
Wishing he could be home.
I am home,
Alone and scared
Wishing I could be there.
I will find a way
To be strong
For Paul,
For me.
One Thing to Be Thankful For
Exactly two weeks later on Thanksgiving night, Abby found herself in her bedroom talking to Fudge, which was only slightly better than talking to herself.
“Thanksgiving stunk,” she told him. “Paul’s close to his nadir, which means he’s super susceptible to infections. So none of our family came over, not even Bubbe Marcia and Zeyde Jordan, and I miss them. I wanted to show Bubbe a turtle hat I crocheted from a cool pattern I found online. It came out looking like a lopsided dinosaur, but I know she’d still like it.”
Fudge swam around his tank, unconcerned about Abby’s problems.
But Abby wasn’t done talking. “Both moms were exhausted, so we ate peanut butter and pumpkin butter sandwiches and canned cranberry sauce. We’ve never eaten canned cranberry sauce in our lives. It held the shape of the can when it plopped out. It tasted too sweet and was slimy and weird. Nothing like Mom Rac
hel’s homemade cranberry sauce with whole cranberries in it and a delicious orange flavor.”
As Abby’s turtle kept swimming, it was obvious to her that Fudge couldn’t care less.
“Thanks for nothing.” Abby dropped onto her bed, trying to think of one thing she was thankful for. Just one.
Suddenly, banjo music floated from Paul’s room. Light, fun banjo music. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the sound of it—how her heart had missed those upbeat plucky, plinking sounds.
Abby put her hands behind her head and let out a relaxed breath. “I’m grateful Paul is well enough to play his banjo and that he’s home and not in the hospital.”
Then she looked over at Fudge. “But a real Thanksgiving meal with all our family here would have been nice too.”
He turned and swam away from her.
* * *
The Sunday after Thanksgiving, Abby had something else to be thankful for—a date with Conrad. The idea came to him, he told her, after he visited the public library and read a poster about a teen board game day.
Ms. Miller drove Conrad and Abby to the public library and dropped them off at 2:45 p.m. “You sure your moms are able to pick you two up?” she asked Abby. “I’m off today and I could get you.”
“Thanks, Ms. Miller,” Abby said. “My mom said she’d pick us up right before the library closes.”
“Awesome. Maybe I’ll get some holiday shopping done. Have fun, you two.”
Abby was glad she didn’t say Have fun, you two lovebirds, because that would have been embarrassing.
Conrad probably appreciated it too, because he said, “Thanks, Mom,” in a really nice way, and Ms. Miller smiled.
In the library’s community room, folding tables and chairs were set out, and board games were piled on one table near the wall.
“Thanks for coming to this,” Conrad whispered to Abby as they walked in.
“It sounds like it’ll be—”
“Welcome!” A cheery librarian with short blond hair and rosy cheeks walked over. “You’re here for the teen board game program. Right?”
Abby and Conrad nodded.
“Great. I’m Miss Amanda. You can go pick any game you like and start playing. Pizza should be here soon.” Miss Amanda glanced up at the clock. “And I’m sure some other kids will be here soon too.”
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