by Angela Ahn
“Where can I take you?” he asked. “Metrotown? Haji not really know what to buy you. Hammy usually does all the shopping.”
“Haji, do you know where Main Street is?”
“Main Street?” he said, confused. “No mall there.”
“I don’t want to go to the mall.”
“Only thing on Main Street I know is Hammy’s favorite old furniture stores,” he replied, thinking hard.
“Exactly. Let’s go.” I stared straight ahead and he started to drive.
12:45 p.m.
It took all morning, but I found one. I didn’t even care that it had a chipped ear.
“This is really all you want?” Haji asked. We were walking up Main Street to the big Chinese restaurant for dim sum. He opened the door for me and we walked up to the second floor.
I nodded. “Yes.”
“But, Peter, you don’t like pigs.”
“Haji,” I said, frustrated, “it’s not for me.”
He looked at me with his head tilted.
We sat down at a table for two in the corner. The waiter asked us something, but we looked up at him blankly. He switched to English. “Tea or water?”
“Tea for me, water for him,” Haji replied.
I waited for a cart to pass by. That’s the best thing about dim sum, the anticipation. The woman pushing a cart full of bamboo steamers headed toward us. I gestured for her to open the lids so I could see what was inside. I picked two of my favorite dishes. I don’t know what they’re called, the one with a big wad of diced shrimp and the one in a banana leaf full of sticky rice, but good food is yummy in any language.
Haji and I grabbed our chopsticks.
“Peter,” Haji said after swallowing his first mouthful of rice. “I feel bad. Don’t you want something else?”
I paused and thought about it. “Well, actually…”
“Tell me.”
“I want you to take me to the hospital to see Hammy,” I blurted out.
His mouth dropped. “Your mom not like that idea. She has very strong opinion. Cha, she’s so bossy sometimes.”
“She’s not here, Haji,” I said. “Don’t you think I can handle it? I’m eleven now. She’s my grandmother. I have a right to see her.” I felt powerful.
“I don’t know…”
“Haji, I know! I know everything. I saw Mom’s brochures! If you’re going to send Hammy away, I’d like to see her!” I was on the verge of yelling.
His shoulders sagged. “You know?”
“Yes, I know. But Mom doesn’t know that I know, so let’s keep it that way, okay?”
“Hammy not going for sure. Your mom just doing some research.”
“It’s a terrible idea!” I shouted.
“But Hammy not healthy anymore.”
“She is too! She’s still plenty healthy! She just has some bad days. We all have bad days, don’t we?”
“Yes, sometimes my mind feels slow too. Cha, we all get old, I guess.”
“So what’s the rush?”
“I don’t know.” Haji looked deflated. “Your mom thinks it’s best.”
“Mom doesn’t know everything.”
Haji smirked. “You’re right.”
“Haji,” I said super seriously. “What’s going to happen to you if she goes into a home like that?”
He didn’t say anything; he just stared at his plate. “Okay, I take you. After lunch. You need to see for yourself sooner or later.”
Chapter 24
NEVER TELL ME THE ODDS
1:30 p.m.
Conditions: Sterile
Haji stopped in his tracks and glanced over at me. “Peter, don’t be nervous.”
We were standing right outside Hammy’s hospital room. My hands were damp and clammy. I started to feel my chest tighten up. I patted my pocket and hoped that by reassuring myself my inhaler was there, I wouldn’t need it.
“Just relax.” He put his hand over mine. I had been clutching the gift bag in my hand so hard my fingers had turned white.
The door was partially open, and Haji knocked lightly before he pushed it open wider. I followed him as he quietly walked into the room. Hammy’s eyes were closed and she was sleeping. I watched her chest rise and fall gently and caught my own breath at the same time.
Hammy’s skin was pale, almost gray. Her cheeks hollow. Her hair, which was usually so neat, was a mass of white wisps. I knew she had broken some bones, but seeing her left arm in a cast left me trembling. She looked so frail and weak.
“Yobo,” Haji whispered in her ear. Her eyes opened slowly. She looked at Haji and smiled faintly.
Then she looked at me and said, “Ji Won.” She forced herself to smile wider.
“Hi, Hammy.” My mouth dried up and I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I took a step toward her bed. I carefully put my hand over her right hand and felt her cool skin. I was surprised to see Trixie tucked under her arm in the cast, his head popping out from beneath her bent elbow.
“Peter has something for you,” Haji offered, breaking the silence.
“I hope you like it.” I nervously handed her the bag.
She smiled at me and her eyes wrinkled in the corners. Even in the hospital gown and with tubes coming out of her arms, her eyes still sparkled with warmth.
She used her good hand to reach into the bag and pull out the ceramic pig. My heart pounded furiously in my chest.
“What’s this?” she asked as she held it in her hand and peered at it, turning it over a few times. I waited desperately for a smile, for a flicker of joy, something.
“A ceramic pig. They’re your favorite,” I said, trying to help her remember.
“Oh?” she answered.
She simply put the pig back in the bag.
“Thank you. I need water,” Hammy said vaguely as my heart fell to the floor.
Haji gave me long look. His eyes were both kind and sad at the same time.
4:45 p.m.
After Haji dropped me off at home, I started to feel all sorts of weird stomach cramps. I walked directly into my room and closed the door. On my bed was a book with a bow on it. My belated birthday present from my parents: Botany for the Budding Young Naturalist. I threw the book in the corner and then myself on the floor and stared blankly at the ceiling.
Seeing Hammy like that was distressing. My mind, like my stomach, was doing flips. The only thing I wanted to do was to tell L.B., but I wasn’t sure this was the right thing to do. I remembered that sometimes it’s good to write everything down. What I needed was a list of pros and cons.
I grabbed a piece of paper, sat at my desk and drew a chart:
Pros — TELL L.B.
CONS — DON’T TELL L.B.
L.B. MISSES HAMMY
L.B. is dramatic and faints
L.B. Deserves to know the truth
L.B. is too young and can’t handle the truth
L.B. is smart and can be rational
l.b. is too smart and will be hysterical
L.B. could help me figure out a way to keep hammy out of a seniors’ home
mom will
kill me
It was even, a draw, a stalemate. I couldn’t think of any other good reasons to tell L.B. or to not tell L.B. I put my pencil down and stared at the ceiling again.
I knew I should have been thinking about Hammy, but for some reason my mind started to wander. The last time I had done this pros and cons exercise was for our social studies unit, and I had to listen to Ryan explain why, in 1871, British Columbia should have never joined Confederation. His stupid bangs flashed before my eyes. The sight of his smug face whispering to me about entering the Royal T
yrrell Museum newsletter contest was like a video playing in a loop in my brain.
To turn off the bad video in my head, I pulled out a fresh sheet of paper. A very teensy-tiny part of me admitted that I couldn’t let him just win like that. I’d hate myself. A significantly larger portion of me admitted that it was probably hopeless. I hadn’t actually given the contest much thought lately. Well, actually, I had given the contest no thought at all. Suddenly, I felt like maybe, just maybe, I should give it a little thought. I tapped my pencil on the edge of my desk. I was hoping that inspiration would just strike and my hand would miraculously start drawing something amazing. Instead, L.B. opened my bedroom door.
I groaned. “Not now, L.B.!”
“What did Haji buy you?” she asked as she peeked in through the door. She didn’t have that loud, sharp voice anymore. It seemed to have disappeared when Hammy went to the hospital.
“Nothing,” I said flatly. I wasn’t lying. He hadn’t bought me anything.
“Nothing?”
“Okay, he bought me lunch,” I answered.
“Did he tell you anything else?” I knew she was fishing for information about Hammy.
I took a quick breath through my nose and stared at my little sister. She was wearing leggings with small rainbows on them and a T-shirt covered in pink and purple ponies. Her hair had grown long, and she had put a single, uneven braid down the side of her face.
I glanced down at my list, and then I looked at her. Never mind my pros and cons list. L.B. needed to know.
“L.B.,” I said, sitting up straight. “Come in and close the door. I have a lot to tell you.”
Chapter 25
WANTED: MORE SPACE
Thursday, August 22, breakfast
Conditions: Summer rain showers
Hammy was being released tomorrow. She had been in the hospital for thirteen days now, but it had felt a lot longer than that.
As I came into the kitchen for breakfast, I stepped over L.B. She was lying on the floor eating a piece of toast. Mom had given up trying to get her to sit at the table. Dad was already reading the newspaper. L.B. took the information I’d given her yesterday surprisingly well. While I was telling her, it had been obvious she needed something to hug, since Trixie was with Hammy, so I offered her my arm. It was still sore. I swore her to secrecy, because Mom could never find out that I had seen Hammy—that would have landed Haji in a hot mess of trouble with Mom and, for once, L.B. had kept her big mouth quiet.
I went to my usual spot at the table and waiting for me was Astronomy for Stargazers. I sighed and pushed the book to the middle of the table.
“Good morning, Peter.” Mom frowned at me as she lifted up the book with two hands and moved it to the small desk in the kitchen.
“Hi.” I yawned while I rubbed my head to try to wake up.
She placed an empty bowl in front of me and gestured for me to help myself to breakfast.
I was pushing some cereal around my bowl when Mom said, “I have something to tell you. Well, half-ask, half-tell.”
I looked up. L.B. even turned her head to listen. “What do you mean?” I asked.
“So…,” she said cautiously. “Your dad and I were thinking—”
“Don’t bring me into this!” he declared, looking up from his newspaper.
“Okay, I was thinking that it might be nice for Hammy and Haji to live here for a little while, just so we can keep a close eye on Hammy and make sure she’s okay.”
L.B., crumbs on her face, bolted up into a sitting position. She dropped her toast on the floor. “That’s a splendid idea.”
Mom got a broom and started sweeping crumbs. “But, as you know, we don’t have an extra room.”
“Our sofa is very comfortable,” L.B. said. “I have spent many hours on it this week.”
“Yes, I know.” Mom sighed, staring at her sideways as she dumped the crumbs into the compost. “But it’s not really a good idea to have Hammy and Haji sleep on the same sofa, is it?” She looked at us silently. “So…we’re—”
Dad cut her off. “You mean, you’re!”
“Okay, okay, I’m thinking that…” She was talking so slowly it was weird. Then she just suddenly blurted out, “Starting tomorrow, you two will share a room, and Hammy and Haji will take the other person’s room, okay?” She said that whole sentence in about two seconds.
“What?” I declared. “Did I hear that right?”
L.B. perked up and said happily, “Today just keeps getting better and better!”
I slapped my hand to my forehead. I knew it was for the best. Hammy was well enough to be released from the hospital and that was a good thing. That was an amazing thing. But memories of sharing a hotel room during our road trip flooded over me.
I went to my room, closed the door and tried to enjoy the feeling of quiet solitude, because tomorrow, L.B. was moving in. This wasn’t going to be fun at all.
Chapter 26
RESISTANCE IS FUTILE
Friday, August 23, the darkest hour (even though it’s 8 a.m.)
Conditions: Unspeakable
“It’s temporary,” Mom said as she and Dad carried my mattress out of my room.
“It had better be!” I muttered through clenched teeth.
They moved my bed into L.B.’s room so that Hammy and Haji could sleep on our beds pushed together. L.B. and I were going to be sleeping on foam mattresses on the floor of my room.
Haji arrived with a suitcase full of stuff for their stay.
“Her scarf! Did you pack her scarf?” Mom said as she rummaged around the suitcase.
“I packed four scarves! I know her favorites.”
“Her cardigans! Where are her cardigans?”
“Cha, relax! If she needs something, we can always go back to the house to get it,” Haji said softly.
Mom sat down on the edge of my bed, which was now crammed against the wall in L.B.’s room.
She rubbed her eyes. “You’re right.”
Haji sat and put his arm around her. “You have done good job. Hammy will be comfortable.”
Mom smiled at him, but it didn’t hide that she looked a bit sad.
10:15 a.m.
Conditions: Nervous wreck. Can’t even look outside
Dad stayed home while we waited for Mom and Haji to bring Hammy back. I was nervous for L.B. I mean, I had told her how banged up Hammy looked and how Hammy seemed more forgetful than ever, but hearing about something and actually seeing it are two totally different things.
L.B. sat outside the front door the minute Mom and Haji pulled away.
“They won’t be back for at least an hour,” Dad said, trying to get her to come inside.
“Then I’ll wait here for at least one hour,” she replied simply.
Her hands were empty because she didn’t have Trixie anymore, so instead she restlessly wrapped a piece of string around her finger over and over until her fingertip turned blue. Then she would release the string, allow blood to return to her finger and tie the string around again.
Dad stood in the doorway watching her. “L.B., how about you make Hammy a nice picture? Like a welcome-home banner or something like that.”
She turned to face him. “Will she even notice?”
I walked quickly to the door. “That’s a great idea, Dad. Come on, L.B. We’ll make her something nice.” I put out my hand for her.
She slowly stood and took my hand. “Okay, Petey, let’s make her a sign.” I grabbed the piece of string out of her hand and shoved it in my pocket.
I told L.B. to cut pieces of colored paper into strips and make a paper chain. While she was gluing, I found the largest piece of paper we had and I drew big block letters that said “Welcome Home!”
“Why don’t you glue your chain around the outside of the paper, like a nice border?” I said to
her.
She looked at me pitifully. “I know what you’re doing.”
“I’m making a sign.”
“You’re keeping me busy.”
“Just start gluing. When you’re done, color in these letters.”
“This is busy work. My teachers use this strategy on me regularly. It’s hardly original.”
“If it’s good enough for them, it’s good enough for me.”
She sighed.
“It’s better than you amputating your own finger, right? Glue!” I instructed.
“After we’re done, can we go back to the front door?” she asked. I nodded.
She squeezed a huge dollop of glue onto the paper and, without any regard for straight lines or visual appeal, she slapped the chain down and glue oozed everywhere. I stared at the glob of glue and the haphazardly constructed chain. It took everything I had to not adjust her work. The girl had no flair for presentation.
L.B. was coloring outside the lines with a red marker when we heard the van door close. We both stopped what we were doing and immediately stood up.
“Come on,” I said. We went to the front. L.B. suddenly bolted back inside and she prowled around the kitchen table. It was like she didn’t know what to do with herself, so she just kept walking in a circle.
I ran back to the table to get the half-finished sign.
“Don’t you want to hold the sign?” I asked L.B.
She shook her head and continued to pace.
Mom had already exited the van and was on the passenger side helping Hammy. Gingerly, Hammy put one foot down on the pavement and slowly the next. I could see that she was wearing her favorite yellow cardigan, but it was draped over her shoulders because, with her cast, she couldn’t put her arm through the sleeve. With some effort and Mom’s help, Hammy finally pushed herself off the seat.