Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
But there was another layer to all this, and it had to do with my father. He’d had epilepsy as a kid but eventually got better. Mom told me that Dad had too much pride to admit how his memories of being discounted and excluded as the sick kid at school had affected him his whole life. He focused on how he and others with chronic illnesses had managed to go on and have happy, productive lives. He thought I should follow his lead when it came to my own illness—like my cancer was a dirty family secret—despite times and attitudes having changed.
Lark crunched his candy, which was followed by another hacking episode.
“Your cough sounds a little better,” I said. That was a lie. This bout seemed to be lingering. And he knew it too because he gave me a look without calling me on it.
“I’m gonna miss this place,” I said as my gaze caught on the large painted rainbow that lined the far wall. Animals and kids were featured on the others.
Lark scoffed. “You will not.”
I laughed. “Well, then maybe I’ll just miss you.”
Our eyes met, and he looked away first as he swallowed. I wondered if he was thinking the same thing—about the night I’d sneaked into his room when he was really sick after a chemo treatment. I’d taken the wet rag from the basin and wiped his head, then climbed beside him in bed to offer some body warmth because he was shivering so badly.
When he’d finally fallen asleep with his head against my shoulder, I breathed out in relief. We might not have had a lot in common, but nobody could say they had experienced any of this. The IVs and bags of fluids, around-the-clock nurses, doctors, and the morose faces of our visitors. It made our connection even stronger.
I’d eventually fallen asleep beside him, only to be found by the night-shift nurse and shooed off to my own bed. But she’d winked at me as she helped me get settled in my room, so I knew I wasn’t in too much trouble.
The next day was a flurry of activity as my parents showed up to whisk me away from what they called “that god-awful place.” But it wasn’t that bad, not with Lark there. Mom and Dad were always dressed for work, even at home, and the comparison couldn’t have been starker than when Lark’s mom and stepdad showed up in jeans. Lark’s mom always wore these flowy shirts with beading or embroidery, and my parents referred to her as a bohemian. Like it was a bad word. I just thought she was cool and free-spirited. But it was obvious they looked down on her, which was one of the reasons I’d never shared more about Lark. The one time I’d tried to tell them about my new friend, they’d given me disapproving eyes.
“Don’t get too attached to someone you won’t ever see again,” Mom had said, and I could read the underlying pity in her eyes, either for him or me. What she didn’t say was that his family would never measure up to their society friends.
The truth was we were the same when it came to our health. Just blood and bones and a pumping heart. Ironic, huh?
“Let’s get a move on it, son,” Dad said. “We have a busy day ahead of us.”
“It’s important for Henry to rest when he gets home,” the nurse warned.
“Yes, of course,” Mom replied with a tight smile, as if they knew better than her how to care for me. I felt my face get hot as I turned away to gather my things and place them in the designer tote bags with the logo I recognized all too well. They would never dream of letting me use the plastic bags the nurse had provided.
I hesitated as I followed them into the hallway. The discharge papers had come earlier than expected, and I wondered if my parents had anything to do with that. They had made calls to doctors and demanded stuff before.
“Wait. I’ll meet you at the nurses’ station. I want to say goodbye to someone.”
“Henry,” Dad said sternly.
“Just five minutes.”
I jogged to Lark’s room before they could say anything else.
He was in a chair near the window, reading a book and twirling a strand of his wavy blond hair. One of his nervous habits. That or biting his lip until it became swollen. But I never called him on it. He had every reason to be worried. We all did.
After watching him for a beat more and thinking he looked like a delicate bird right then, I cleared my throat. “I came to say goodbye.”
“Oh, they’re letting you leave early.” His smile was sad as he stood up. “I’m glad you let me know. I was hoping we’d get in one more game of Monopoly.”