\u201cSlow down, sweetheart!\u201d my mother-in-law laughed. \u201cYou\u2019re getting a little too curvy!\u201d<\/p>\n
A few relatives laughed with her.<\/p>\n
My son, Oliver, froze with his hand halfway to the cake plate.<\/p>\n
He\u2019s seven. He was wearing the green dinosaur shirt he\u2019d picked out himself that morning because he said it was \u201cfancy.\u201d He\u2019d combed his own hair with water. He had been waiting all evening for that cake.<\/p>\n
He looked around the table at all the faces. Twenty of them. Aunts, uncles, cousins, Patricia\u2019s friends from church. Some of them were still smiling.<\/p>\n
Then, slowly, he lowered his arm.<\/p>\n
\u201cGrandma,\u201d he said, \u201cI\u2019m not fat.\u201d<\/p>\n
His voice was so quiet I barely heard it over the clinking forks.<\/p>\n
He tugged the bottom of his shirt down over his stomach and held it there with both hands.<\/p>\n
Patricia laughed again. She was wearing a gold paper crown one of the grandkids had made her, and it tipped to the side when she threw her head back.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, honey, look at that belly! You look six months pregnant!\u201d<\/p>\n
This time, Oliver didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n
He just looked down at the cake he hadn\u2019t touched.<\/p>\n
And I saw his little fingers tighten around the hem of his shirt until his knuckles went white.<\/p>\n
I should explain something before I go any further.<\/p>\n
Until a few months before that dinner, Oliver loved visiting his grandmother more than almost anywhere else in the world.<\/p>\n
More than the park. More than the pool. More than the dinosaur museum two hours away that we\u2019d taken him to twice.<\/p>\n
If you asked him on a Friday night what he wanted to do tomorrow, he\u2019d say, \u201cGrandma\u2019s,\u201d before you even finished the question.<\/p>\n
Patricia lived twenty minutes from us, in the same yellow house on Hawthorne Street where my husband David grew up. She\u2019d been a widow for four years, since David\u2019s dad, Frank, died of a stroke. The house was too big for her, and too quiet, and full of furniture that smelled like lemon polish.<\/p>\n
In the front room, beside the big bay window, there was an old blue armchair. It was wide and soft, with a dent in the seat that was exactly the shape of Patricia. Nobody else sat in it. Not even Frank, when he was alive.<\/p>\n
Except Oliver.<\/p>\n
From the time he was two, every Saturday morning, Oliver climbed into Patricia\u2019s lap in that blue chair, and she read him dinosaur books. The same ones, over and over. The one with the footprints. The one with the flying one. The one with the T. rex who was scared of the dark.<\/p>\n
She\u2019d do all the voices. She\u2019d make the T. rex roar so loud the cat ran out of the room.<\/p>\n
And almost every Saturday, Oliver would fall asleep on her chest before they finished the book. Sometimes she fell asleep too. I\u2019d come to pick him up at noon and find them both snoring in that chair, with the sun coming in through the window and a dinosaur book open on the floor.<\/p>\n
She called him Teddy Bear. Ever since he was a baby.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow\u2019s my Teddy Bear?\u201d she\u2019d say when he ran through her front door. And he\u2019d throw himself at her knees and shout, \u201cGRANDMA!\u201d like he hadn\u2019t seen her in a year.<\/p>\n
That\u2019s who Patricia was to my son.<\/p>\n
That\u2019s why what happened at that table felt like watching something break.<\/p>\n
\u201cPatricia, he\u2019s seven,\u201d I said. My voice came out harder than I expected. \u201cStop embarrassing him.\u201d<\/p>\n
The table went a little quieter.<\/p>\n
Patricia waved her hand at me, the way you\u2019d wave at a fly.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, relax, Sarah. I\u2019m only joking!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s not funny to him.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEverything\u2019s a big deal with you young mothers,\u201d she said, and a couple of the older women at the end of the table nodded and smiled like they knew exactly what she meant.<\/p>\n
I felt my face go hot.<\/p>\n
That\u2019s when my husband put down his fork.<\/p>\n
David is not a loud man. He\u2019s an accountant. He likes spreadsheets and quiet weekends and making pancakes in shapes on Sunday mornings. In twelve years of marriage, I had never once heard him raise his voice to his mother.<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t raise it now, either.<\/p>\n
He just set his fork down on his plate, very carefully, and looked down the long table at her.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom,\u201d he said, \u201ccan I ask you one question?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course, darling.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy do you keep making jokes about Oliver\u2019s stomach,\u201d he said, \u201cwhen you know what the doctor told us?\u201d<\/p>\n
Patricia\u2019s smile disappeared.<\/p>\n
Just like that. Gone.<\/p>\n
The paper crown was still crooked on her head. But her face had gone completely still.<\/p>\n
\u201cDavid,\u201d she said quietly. \u201cDon\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
Three weeks before that dinner, Oliver had started complaining about stomachaches.<\/p>\n
At first, they were small things. He\u2019d rub his belly after breakfast and say it felt \u201cpinchy.\u201d He\u2019d sit out a few minutes at soccer practice. I thought it was something he ate. Or nerves about the spelling test. Second grade spelling tests are a big deal when you\u2019re seven.<\/p>\n
Then I noticed his stomach looked a little swollen. Rounder, on one side, than it should have been. He\u2019d always been a sturdy kid, solid and strong, but this was different. It was firm when I touched it. He flinched.<\/p>\n
I took him to our pediatrician, Dr. Mendez.<\/p>\n
Actually, Patricia took us. My car was in the shop that week, and David was at work, so she drove. She sat in the waiting room with Oliver on her knee and read him a magazine about tractors because there were no dinosaur ones.<\/p>\n
When Dr. Mendez pressed on his belly, gently, in a few different places, her face changed. Just a little. Doctors are good at not letting their faces change, but I saw it.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019d like to get an ultrasound,\u201d she said. \u201cJust to take a look. It\u2019s probably nothing, but I want to be sure.\u201d<\/p>\n
In the car afterward, Patricia was quiet. At a red light, she reached over and squeezed my hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019ll be fine,\u201d she said. \u201cKids get all kinds of bumps.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
\u201cMake sure they look at it properly, Sarah. Don\u2019t let them rush you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI won\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
That was three weeks before her birthday.<\/p>\n
Oliver had the ultrasound the afternoon before the dinner. A Saturday appointment, the only one they had. He lay on the paper-covered table while a woman rolled cold jelly over his belly with a wand. He watched the gray shapes on the screen and asked if he could see his lunch in there.<\/p>\n
The technician laughed. But she was quiet for a long time after that, moving the wand over the same spot again and again.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe doctor will call you with results,\u201d she said when she was done. \u201cProbably Monday or Tuesday.\u201d<\/p>\n
So we were waiting.<\/p>\n
And Patricia knew all of this. Every bit of it. She\u2019d sat in the waiting room. She\u2019d squeezed my hand at the red light.<\/p>\n
She knew.<\/p>\n
David leaned forward across the table.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s frightened enough, Mom,\u201d he said. \u201cWhy would you make him feel worse?\u201d<\/p>\n
Patricia looked away. She picked up her napkin and folded it in half, then in half again.<\/p>\n
Aunt Linda, David\u2019s older sister, cleared her throat. \u201cOkay, let\u2019s just\u2014maybe we should open presents?\u201d<\/p>\n
Nobody moved.<\/p>\n
Then Oliver pushed back his chair.<\/p>\n
The legs scraped across Patricia\u2019s wooden floor.<\/p>\n
\u201cMommy,\u201d he said. \u201cMy tummy hurts again.\u201d<\/p>\n
I was out of my seat before I even thought about it. I knelt down next to his chair.<\/p>\n
His face had gone pale. Not just a little pale. Gray-white, like paper. There were tiny beads of sweat on his upper lip.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs it like last time?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
He shook his head.<\/p>\n
\u201cWorse,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
David came around the table and knelt down on Oliver\u2019s other side.<\/p>\n
Oliver grabbed his arm. He held on hard, with both hands, like he was afraid of falling.<\/p>\n
\u201cDaddy,\u201d he said, \u201cI feel funny.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFunny how, buddy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJust funny. Like spinny.\u201d<\/p>\n
And that\u2019s when my phone rang.<\/p>\n
I almost ignored it.<\/p>\n
It was buzzing in my back pocket, and my son was holding on to his father like he was drowning, and twenty people were staring at us, and I didn\u2019t care who was calling.<\/p>\n
But something made me pull it out.<\/p>\n
I looked at the screen.<\/p>\n
Dr. Mendez \u2013 Pediatrics.<\/p>\n
My stomach tightened into a knot.<\/p>\n
It was Sunday evening. Almost seven o\u2019clock. Why would she be calling on a Sunday evening?<\/p>\n
Doctors don\u2019t call on Sunday evenings to tell you everything\u2019s fine.<\/p>\n
I answered with one hand still resting on Oliver\u2019s shoulder.<\/p>\n
\u201cHello?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSarah, it\u2019s Dr. Mendez. Are you with Oliver right now?\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked down at my son. He was clutching his father\u2019s arm. His eyes were half closed.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d I said. \u201cHe\u2019s in pain. He just said his stomach hurts worse than before.\u201d<\/p>\n
There was a very short pause on the line.<\/p>\n
\u201cHis scan showed something concerning,\u201d she said. Her voice was calm, but fast. \u201cI want you to take him straight to the emergency department at Children\u2019s. Don\u2019t wait until morning. I\u2019m calling ahead so they\u2019ll be expecting you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did it show?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019d rather the team there explain it once they\u2019ve examined him. Please go now, Sarah.\u201d<\/p>\n
David lifted Oliver into his arms before I\u2019d even hung up.<\/p>\n
He just scooped him up, the way he used to when Oliver was a toddler and fell asleep in the car. Oliver put his head on David\u2019s shoulder and closed his eyes.<\/p>\n
I grabbed my purse and Oliver\u2019s little dinosaur backpack off the hook by the door. I don\u2019t know why I grabbed the backpack. Habit, I guess. He took it everywhere.<\/p>\n
At the dining table, nobody said a word.<\/p>\n
The cake sat there in the middle with its seven candles burned down to nubs. The ones shaped like a seven and a zero.<\/p>\n
Patricia was standing up. Her napkin had fallen on the floor. Her paper crown was still on her head.<\/p>\n
\u201cDavid,\u201d she said. \u201cWhat did she say? David?\u201d<\/p>\n
David didn\u2019t answer her. He just carried our son out the front door and down the porch steps to the car.<\/p>\n
I looked back once, from the doorway.<\/p>\n
Patricia was standing alone at the head of her birthday table, with both hands over her mouth.<\/p>\n
At the hospital, Oliver kept asking whether he had done something wrong.<\/p>\n
He asked in the car. He asked in the waiting room. He asked the woman at the front desk who put the plastic bracelet on his wrist.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, sweetheart,\u201d I told him, while a nurse in purple scrubs checked his temperature with a little wand against his forehead. \u201cYou haven\u2019t done anything wrong. Not one single thing.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen why is everyone looking at my tummy?\u201d<\/p>\n
I pulled the thin hospital blanket up over his legs.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause we want to find out why it hurts.\u201d<\/p>\n
He moved both his hands over his stomach and held them there. Like he was covering it up. Like it was something he needed to hide.<\/p>\n
They did a lot of things that night.<\/p>\n
They took blood. Oliver cried when the needle went in, and then apologized for crying, which almost made me cry. They did another ultrasound, and then a different kind of scan in a big white machine shaped like a donut. Oliver was very brave in the donut. He said it sounded like a spaceship.<\/p>\n
A doctor with red glasses and a soft voice examined him, pressing gently on his belly. She asked him to point to where it hurt most. He pointed to his left side, just under his ribs.<\/p>\n
Then she looked at his scans on a computer for a long time.<\/p>\n
Then she asked David and me to step into the corridor for a minute, while a nurse named Tamika stayed with Oliver and let him play a game on her phone.<\/p>\n
The corridor was bright and cold. There was a cart full of folded blankets against the wall. Somewhere down the hall, a baby was crying.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m Dr. Hollis,\u201d she said. \u201cI\u2019ve been looking at Oliver\u2019s images, along with the ultrasound from yesterday.\u201d<\/p>\n
David took my hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere appears to be a mass near one of his kidneys,\u201d she said. \u201cOn the left side. It would explain the swelling and some of the pain he\u2019s been having. Tonight, it looks like there may be a little bleeding around it, which is probably why he felt so much worse at dinner.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cA mass?\u201d I repeated.<\/p>\n
The word didn\u2019t seem real. It sounded like something from a science textbook.<\/p>\n
She nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe need further tests,\u201d she said. \u201cAnd a specialist, a pediatric oncologist, is going to see him in the morning. They\u2019ll be able to tell us exactly what we\u2019re dealing with.\u201d<\/p>\n
Oncologist.<\/p>\n
I knew that word. Everybody knows that word.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs it cancer?\u201d David said. His voice was flat. \u201cIs that what you\u2019re saying?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dr. Hollis looked at both of us steadily.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know that\u2019s frightening,\u201d she said. \u201cI\u2019m not going to pretend it isn\u2019t. But we aren\u2019t going to make assumptions before we have the answers. Right now, he\u2019s comfortable, he\u2019s stable, and he\u2019s in the right place. Let\u2019s take it one step at a time.\u201d<\/p>\n
David nodded. He kept nodding, like he couldn\u2019t stop.<\/p>\n
I turned and looked through the glass window into Oliver\u2019s room.
\nMy son was lying small beneath a white hospital blanket. Tamika was showing him something on her phone, and he was smiling a little. He had his dinosaur backpack on the bed next to him.<\/p>\n
He had one hand pressed flat against his stomach.<\/p>\n
And I thought, Three hours ago, Patricia laughed at the size of his stomach in front of twenty people.<\/p>\n
All that time, something had been growing inside him.<\/p>\n
When I went back into the room, Oliver was tugging the hospital gown across his belly. Pulling it tight. Smoothing it down. Pulling it again.<\/p>\n
\u201cDoes it hurt?\u201d I asked, sitting down next to him.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen why are you pulling it down, honey?\u201d<\/p>\n
He shrugged.<\/p>\n
Tamika came over to adjust one of the stickers on his chest that connected to the heart monitor. She reached for the edge of his gown.<\/p>\n
Oliver twisted away from her.<\/p>\n
\u201cPlease don\u2019t look,\u201d he whispered.<\/p>\n
Tamika paused with her hand in the air.<\/p>\n
She looked at me. Then she looked back at him. Her voice got very gentle.<\/p>\n
\u201cI only need to check this little sticker, okay? Right here, by your shoulder. I promise I won\u2019t look anywhere else.\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded.<\/p>\n
But he kept one hand pressed against the gown the whole time, right over his stomach.<\/p>\n
I had seen that movement before.<\/p>\n
That\u2019s what I realized, sitting there in that plastic hospital chair.<\/p>\n
I\u2019d seen it at the dinner table, an hour earlier. Tugging his shirt down. Holding it with both hands.<\/p>\n
But I\u2019d seen it before that, too. I just hadn\u2019t been paying attention.<\/p>\n
In photographs, lately. At his cousin\u2019s birthday party in August, when Linda said, \u201cStand up straight, Ollie, let\u2019s get a good one!\u201d He\u2019d crossed his arms over his belly in every single picture.<\/p>\n
At the swimming pool in July. He\u2019d refused to take his T-shirt off. He swam in it. I\u2019d thought it was because of sunburn.<\/p>\n
At the shoe store. He\u2019d asked me to go in the fitting room with him, and then he\u2019d turned his back to me while he changed.<\/p>\n
I had thought he was just becoming shy. Kids get shy around that age. That\u2019s what everybody says.<\/p>\n
Now I wasn\u2019t so sure.<\/p>\n
That night, David drove home to get some things. A toothbrush. Pajamas. His phone charger.<\/p>\n
He came back at eleven with Oliver\u2019s favorite stuffed animal. A big gray Triceratops named Gerald, with one horn that had been chewed flat when Oliver was teething.<\/p>\n
Oliver hugged Gerald so hard his face disappeared into the fur.<\/p>\n
David went down to the cafeteria to find us something to eat. I sat beside the bed and held my son\u2019s hand.<\/p>\n
The room was dark except for the little green lights on the monitor. Oliver was supposed to be sleeping. He wasn\u2019t.<\/p>\n
I tried to think of something to talk about. Something nice. Something that wasn\u2019t scans or needles or stomachs.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you remember,\u201d I said, \u201chow Grandma used to let you sit in her big chair?\u201d<\/p>\n
Oliver\u2019s eyes moved toward me in the dark.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe one by the window?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes. The blue one.\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019d read those dinosaur books until you both fell asleep,\u201d I said. \u201cRemember? I\u2019d come to get you, and you\u2019d both be snoring.\u201d<\/p>\n
I was smiling, remembering it.<\/p>\n
Oliver wasn\u2019t.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe doesn\u2019t do that anymore,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
I stopped smiling.<\/p>\n
\u201cHave you asked her?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOnce.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did she say?\u201d<\/p>\n
He rubbed the corner of the blanket between his fingers. Back and forth. Back and forth.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe said I was too big for her lap.\u201d<\/p>\n
I tried to smile again. I didn\u2019t do a very good job.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell,\u201d I said, \u201cyou\u2019re growing up, honey. That\u2019s all. You\u2019re seven now. That doesn\u2019t mean she doesn\u2019t want you close.\u201d<\/p>\n
Oliver looked down at himself. At the blanket. At the shape of his stomach under it.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe says my tummy\u2019s getting bigger too,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
My throat got so tight I couldn\u2019t swallow.<\/p>\n
\u201cGrandma shouldn\u2019t say things that make you feel bad,\u201d I said finally.<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t say anything for a while.<\/p>\n
Then he said, \u201cShe used to call me Teddy Bear. Even when I was really little.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI remember.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNow she calls me her big boy.\u201d<\/p>\n
He said those last two words so quietly that I almost missed them.<\/p>\n
Big boy.<\/p>\n
I\u2019d heard her say it a hundred times over the last few months. Look at my big boy. Here comes my big boy. I\u2019d thought it was sweet. I\u2019d thought she was proud of him.<\/p>\n
I never once heard it the way he heard it.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you miss sitting with her?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
He nodded. He didn\u2019t look at me.<\/p>\n
I wanted to tell him Patricia loved him. Because she did. I knew she did.<\/p>\n
I wanted to promise that everything would be fine. That Grandma would read to him again. That his tummy would stop hurting. That tomorrow the specialist would come in and say it was all a big mistake.<\/p>\n
But he was watching my face in the dark, waiting. He was waiting for an answer that meant something. Not a grown-up answer. Not a pat on the head.<\/p>\n
So I said, \u201cYou can miss that, sweetheart. It\u2019s okay to miss it. And you can tell her that it hurts when she jokes about your body.\u201d<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n
Instead, after a long time, he asked a different question.<\/p>\n
\u201cWill she be mad?\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t sleep that night.<\/p>\n
I sat in that plastic chair and watched the green numbers on Oliver\u2019s heart monitor go up and down. I watched his chest rise and fall under the blanket. I watched his hand, which never once left his stomach, even after he finally fell asleep.<\/p>\n
Will she be mad?<\/p>\n
Not Will it make her stop.<\/p>\n
Not Will she say sorry.<\/p>\n
Will she be mad.<\/p>\n
The next morning, David came back with two cups of coffee from the cart downstairs.<\/p>\n
Oliver was still sleeping, with one arm around Gerald the Triceratops.<\/p>\n
I took one of the coffees, and then I took David by the sleeve and walked him out into the hallway. I closed the door most of the way behind us.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow long has your mother been talking about his weight?\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
David stared down at the cup in his hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cSarah\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow long, David?\u201d<\/p>\n
He let out a long breath.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019s made comments before.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat kind of comments?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJust\u2026 you know how she is. Little things. Should he really have seconds? He\u2019s getting a bit of a tummy on him. That kind of thing.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow long?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cA few months. Maybe since the summer.\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt my face getting hot.<\/p>\n
\u201cOliver says she doesn\u2019t let him sit on her lap anymore,\u201d I said. \u201cHe says she told him he was too big.\u201d<\/p>\n
David closed his eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe told me that,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
For a second, I couldn\u2019t say anything.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhen?\u201d I said finally.<\/p>\n
\u201cA few weeks ago. He was upset after we visited Mom. In the car on the way home. You were at your sister\u2019s that day, remember? It was just me and him.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you didn\u2019t tell me?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI thought I could handle it.\u201d<\/p>\n
I put my coffee down on the cart of folded blankets.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did you do?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI talked to her,\u201d David said. \u201cAfter the doctor\u2019s appointment. The one she drove you to. I called her that night, and I told her the comments needed to stop. Especially now, when we didn\u2019t know what was going on with his stomach. I told her Oliver was getting upset.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe promised she would.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at him.<\/p>\n
And I remembered the question he\u2019d asked her at the dinner table. Very calm. Very carefully.<\/p>\n
Why do you keep making jokes?<\/p>\n
Keep.<\/p>\n
He hadn\u2019t been reacting to one terrible moment at a birthday dinner.<\/p>\n
He had been sitting there watching a promise break. In front of twenty people. In front of our son.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy didn\u2019t you tell me any of this?\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
David rubbed the back of his neck.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom gets emotional when she thinks someone\u2019s criticizing her,\u201d he said. \u201cYou know that. Ever since Dad died, it\u2019s worse. Everything turns into a big thing. I didn\u2019t want a huge argument over something she\u2019d already agreed to stop.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut she didn\u2019t stop.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d he said quietly. \u201cShe didn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did you tell Oliver?\u201d I asked. \u201cIn the car. When he told you.\u201d<\/p>\n
David studied the floor tiles.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat Grandma loved him,\u201d he said. \u201cThat she didn\u2019t mean it.\u201d<\/p>\n
I waited.<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t say anything else.<\/p>\n
I kept waiting.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd that he shouldn\u2019t take the jokes so seriously,\u201d David said.<\/p>\n
For a moment, all I could hear was a cart rattling down the corridor. Wheels squeaking. A phone ringing at the nurses\u2019 station.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou told our seven-year-old son,\u201d I said slowly, \u201cto ignore something that made him ashamed of his body.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know how that sounds.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you?\u201d<\/p>\n
David didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n
He just stood there with his coffee getting cold in his hand.<\/p>\n
I looked at him. My husband. A kind man. A good father. The man who made pancakes shaped like stegosauruses on Sunday mornings and let Oliver add the chocolate chip eyes.<\/p>\n
And I thought about him at seven years old, in that same yellow house on Hawthorne Street. In the same front room with the same blue chair.<\/p>\n
I\u2019d never asked him what Patricia used to say to him.
\nInside the room, Oliver stirred.<\/p>\n
Through the gap in the door, I could see him sitting up in bed. He was looking toward the doorway. Toward us.<\/p>\n
David and I looked at each other.<\/p>\n
We went back inside before he could see us arguing.<\/p>\n
Oliver held up Gerald the Triceratops when we came in, like he was showing us he\u2019d kept him safe all night.<\/p>\n
\u201cDaddy,\u201d he said, \u201cdid Grandma call?\u201d<\/p>\n
David stopped beside the bed.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe did,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
He\u2019d had his phone on silent. I\u2019d seen it lighting up over and over during the night. Fourteen missed calls by six in the morning. All from Mom.<\/p>\n
\u201cWas she crying?\u201d Oliver asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe was worried about you, buddy.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut was she crying?\u201d<\/p>\n
David hesitated.<\/p>\n
Then he nodded slowly.<\/p>\n
Oliver looked down at Gerald. He stared at the Triceratops\u2019s little plastic teeth for a long time.<\/p>\n
Then he looked up at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs Daddy sad too?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course we\u2019re worried, sweetheart,\u201d I said. \u201cYou\u2019re in the hospital. We\u2019re both worried about you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Oliver shook his head.<\/p>\n
\u201cNot about my tummy,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
He looked at David.<\/p>\n
\u201cAbout Grandma.\u201d<\/p>\n
David sat down slowly on the edge of the bed.<\/p>\n
\u201cBuddy,\u201d he said. \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n
Oliver\u2019s lower lip started to tremble.<\/p>\n
\u201cGrandma cried,\u201d he said, \u201cthe last time you told her to stop teasing me.\u201d<\/p>\n
David went completely still.<\/p>\n
I looked from one of them to the other.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou heard that?\u201d David said.<\/p>\n
Oliver nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhen?\u201d I said. \u201cWhen was this?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAt Grandma\u2019s house,\u201d Oliver said. \u201cWhen Daddy went in the kitchen with her. I was supposed to be watching the dinosaur show. But I went to the bathroom, and I was in the hallway.\u201d<\/p>\n
David covered his mouth with his hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou told her she made me sad,\u201d Oliver said. \u201cAnd then she cried. And she said you didn\u2019t love her anymore. She said, First your father, and now you. And she cried really loud.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, buddy,\u201d David whispered.<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t know you were listening,\u201d he said through his fingers.<\/p>\n
\u201cI was in the hallway,\u201d Oliver said again. Like that explained everything.<\/p>\n
\u201cOliver,\u201d I said gently. I sat down on the other side of the bed. \u201cWhy didn\u2019t you tell me? About the jokes? About the chair?\u201d<\/p>\n
He squeezed Gerald so hard the Triceratops\u2019s tail bent sideways.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause you\u2019d tell Daddy,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDaddy would tell Grandma.\u201d<\/p>\n
He paused.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen Grandma would cry again.\u201d<\/p>\n
Something inside me seemed to drop. Like stepping off a stair that isn\u2019t there.<\/p>\n
My son hadn\u2019t been keeping quiet because the jokes didn\u2019t hurt.<\/p>\n
He\u2019d been keeping quiet because he thought his hurt would make everyone else unhappy.<\/p>\n
He was seven years old. And he\u2019d decided, all by himself, standing in his grandmother\u2019s hallway, that his feelings were dangerous. That if he said out loud that something hurt, the grown-ups would fall apart.<\/p>\n
So he just stopped saying it.<\/p>\n
He tugged his shirt down instead.<\/p>\n
\u201cSweetheart,\u201d I whispered. \u201cYou never have to hide something that\u2019s hurting you. Never. Do you hear me?\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked past me, at his father.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut Daddy gets sad when Grandma cries,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
David reached for him.<\/p>\n
Oliver turned his face away.<\/p>\n
Not angry. Not dramatic. He just turned his face toward the window and looked at the parking garage across the street.<\/p>\n
David\u2019s hand stopped in the air.<\/p>\n
He held it there for a moment. Then he put it down on the blanket, next to Oliver\u2019s foot.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know, buddy,\u201d he said. His voice was cracking. \u201cI know I do. I need to do better.\u201d<\/p>\n
Oliver kept looking out the window at the parking garage.<\/p>\n
A few minutes later, the nurse came in to take his blood pressure, and Oliver asked for his dinosaur backpack.<\/p>\n
\u201cI want Stomper,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
Stomper was a small green plastic dinosaur that lived in the front pocket of his backpack. A Brachiosaurus, about the size of my thumb. One of his eyes had been scratched off at the playground two years ago. Oliver loved him more than any other toy because, he said, \u201cHe\u2019s broken, but he\u2019s still brave.\u201d<\/p>\n
David picked up the backpack from the chair by the window. He unzipped it and dug around inside.<\/p>\n
He found Stomper first. He handed him to Oliver.<\/p>\n
Then, as he was pulling his hand out, a folded piece of yellow card slipped out of the bag and fell onto the floor.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh,\u201d I said. \u201cThat\u2019s his birthday card. For Patricia.\u201d<\/p>\n
He\u2019d made it that Sunday afternoon, before the dinner.<\/p>\n
He\u2019d sat at our kitchen table for almost two hours with his markers and his crayons and a piece of yellow cardstock from my craft drawer. He wouldn\u2019t let me see it. Every time I walked past, he covered it with his arm.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s a surprise,\u201d he said. \u201cIt\u2019s for Grandma\u2019s eyes only.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot even a tiny peek?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMommy. It\u2019s a surprise.\u201d<\/p>\n
When he was done, he folded it very carefully and slid it into the front pocket of his dinosaur backpack. He zipped it shut.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m going to give it to her after cake,\u201d he told me in the car. \u201cWhen everybody\u2019s done. So it\u2019s special.\u201d<\/p>\n
He never got to give it to her.<\/p>\n
David bent down and picked the card up off the hospital floor.<\/p>\n
There was a drawing on the front.<\/p>\n
It was Grandma\u2019s blue chair. I could tell right away. Beside the big bay window. There was a vase of red flowers on the windowsill, because Patricia always had flowers there. The cat was drawn on the floor in orange crayon, with whiskers going way past his face.<\/p>\n
And in the chair, there was Grandma, with her gray hair and her glasses.<\/p>\n
And on her lap, there was a small boy.<\/p>\n
The boy was wearing a blue shirt with a dinosaur on it.<\/p>\n
I knew that shirt. Oliver\u2019s old blue Stegosaurus shirt. He\u2019d worn it every Saturday when he was three and four. He\u2019d outgrown it years ago. It was in a box in our basement.<\/p>\n
In the drawing, Grandma\u2019s arms were around him.<\/p>\n
Patricia arrived that afternoon, around three o\u2019clock.<\/p>\n
She was carrying a canvas grocery bag with clean clothes for Oliver, his pajamas with the rockets on them and a fresh pair of socks, and a box of his favorite crackers, the little ones shaped like goldfish.<\/p>\n
She looked exhausted. Her makeup was smudged under her eyes. Her hair, which was always set perfectly, was flat on one side, like she\u2019d slept on it in a chair. She was wearing the same blouse she\u2019d worn to her birthday dinner.<\/p>\n
She came down the corridor fast, almost running, and stopped in front of us outside Oliver\u2019s door.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow is he?\u201d she said. \u201cDavid, how is he? Nobody would tell me anything. I called all night.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s resting,\u201d David said.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did they find? What is it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey found a mass,\u201d David said. \u201cNear his kidney. They don\u2019t know yet what it is. The specialist was here this morning. They\u2019re doing more tests.\u201d<\/p>\n
Patricia put her hand on the wall.<\/p>\n
\u201cA mass,\u201d she said. \u201cOh, God. Oh, my God.\u201d<\/p>\n
She sat down in one of the plastic chairs along the hallway wall. The grocery bag slid off her arm onto the floor.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve been sick with worry,\u201d she said. \u201cI didn\u2019t sleep. I sat up all night by the phone.\u201d She pressed a tissue under her eyes. \u201cYour father would have known what to say at a time like this. He always knew what to say.\u201d<\/p>\n
David didn\u2019t respond.<\/p>\n
He just stood there in the hallway with his arms at his sides.<\/p>\n
Patricia looked up toward Oliver\u2019s door.<\/p>\n
\u201cCan I go in?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot yet,\u201d David said.<\/p>\n
Her eyes filled with tears.<\/p>\n
\u201cDavid, please,\u201d she said. \u201cI\u2019m his grandmother.\u201d<\/p>\n
David reached into the back pocket of his jeans.<\/p>\n
He took out the yellow card. He\u2019d been carrying it around all day. He held it out to her.<\/p>\n
\u201cRead this first,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
Patricia frowned. She took the card from his hand.<\/p>\n
She unfolded it.<\/p>\n
I watched her eyes reach the drawing on the front.<\/p>\n
Her whole face went soft.
\nThey were both smiling.<\/p>\n
David opened the card.<\/p>\n
I watched his face while he read it.<\/p>\n
I watched it change. Very slowly. Like something was caving in behind it.<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t say anything. He just handed it to me.<\/p>\n
Inside was Oliver\u2019s uneven handwriting, in green marker. The letters were big and wobbly. Some of them were backwards. He\u2019d pressed so hard that the marker had soaked through the paper in places.<\/p>\n
Happy Birthday, Grandma.<\/p>\n
I wish I could be little again so you could hold me like before.<\/p>\n
I still love you.<\/p>\n
I read it twice.<\/p>\n
Then I read it a third time, because I couldn\u2019t believe what I was reading.<\/p>\n
I wish I could be little again so you could hold me like before.<\/p>\n
At dinner, he\u2019d been sitting at that table with this card in his backpack. Waiting. Waiting for the cake to be over so he could hand his grandmother a picture of the very thing he thought he\u2019d lost.<\/p>\n
And then she\u2019d made twenty people laugh at his body.<\/p>\n
I looked over at Oliver.<\/p>\n
He had curled onto his side while we were reading. The little green dinosaur with the missing eye was tucked under his chin. Gerald was squished against his back.<\/p>\n
His eyes were closed.<\/p>\n
I don\u2019t know if he was really asleep. I think maybe he just didn\u2019t want to watch our faces while we read it.<\/p>\n
David sat down heavily in the chair beside the bed. He took the card back from me and laid it on his knee and pressed it flat with his whole palm, smoothing out the fold, over and over.<\/p>\n
\u201cI thought she was just teasing him,\u201d he whispered.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe told you he was hurt, David.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
He wiped his face with the back of his hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cI kept telling him she loved him,\u201d he said. \u201cOver and over. Like that would fix it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe he didn\u2019t need you to tell him she loved him,\u201d I said quietly. \u201cMaybe he needed you to show him that you believed him.\u201d<\/p>\n
David nodded slowly.<\/p>\n
He kept looking at the drawing of the little boy in the blue shirt.<\/p>\n
Later that morning, while Oliver was having more blood drawn, David and I went down to the cafeteria. Neither of us ate anything. We just sat at a little table by the window with two trays of untouched eggs.<\/p>\n
\u201cCan I ask you something?\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
He looked up.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhen you were little,\u201d I said. \u201cDid your mom ever say things about your body?\u201d<\/p>\n
He was quiet for a long time.<\/p>\n
\u201cI was a chubby kid,\u201d he said finally. \u201cDid you know that? Up until about twelve.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve seen the pictures.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe used to call me her little dumpling.\u201d He laughed, but it wasn\u2019t really a laugh. \u201cIn front of people. At church. She\u2019d pat my stomach and say, My little dumpling. And everybody would laugh.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDid it bother you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know. I guess.\u201d He pushed his eggs around with his fork. \u201cI remember once, at Christmas, I cried about it. In my room. And my dad came up and sat on my bed and told me Mom didn\u2019t mean anything by it. He said she just said things without thinking, and it would hurt her feelings if I made a big deal of it.\u201d<\/p>\n
He stopped.<\/p>\n
I watched him hear himself.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh,\u201d he said quietly.<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s exactly what I told Oliver.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\n
He put his fork down.<\/p>\n
\u201cHer own mother was worse,\u201d he said. \u201cGrandma Ruth. She used to tell Mom she\u2019d never get a husband if she didn\u2019t lose ten pounds. Mom told me that once, laughing about it. Like it was funny.\u201d He rubbed his eyes. \u201cI guess everybody in my family\u2019s been laughing about it for seventy years.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s my old chair,\u201d she whispered. She touched it with one fingertip. \u201cAnd there\u2019s Biscuit, look, with his whiskers.\u201d She laughed a little, a wet laugh. \u201cAnd that\u2019s my Teddy Bear.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRead the inside, Mom,\u201d David said.<\/p>\n
She opened it.<\/p>\n
Her mouth moved silently while she read. I watched her get to the second line.<\/p>\n
I wish I could be little again so you could hold me like before.<\/p>\n
She stopped.<\/p>\n
Her lips stopped moving.<\/p>\n
She sat there in the plastic hospital chair, not looking away from the page, for what felt like a very long time.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe made this for me?\u201d she said finally.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d David said. \u201cYesterday afternoon. He worked on it for two hours. He was going to give it to you after cake.\u201d<\/p>\n
Patricia touched the little drawing again. The boy in the blue shirt.<\/p>\n
\u201cI used to read to him there,\u201d she said. \u201cEvery Saturday. He\u2019d fall asleep on me before we finished the book. Every single time.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen you started telling him he was too big,\u201d David said.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe was getting older, David.\u201d Her voice got defensive. \u201cHe\u2019s seven. He\u2019s heavy. My back isn\u2019t what it used to be. I didn\u2019t think\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou told him,\u201d David said, \u201cthat he had a pregnant belly. At your birthday dinner. In front of twenty people.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her face crumpled.<\/p>\n
\u201cI was joking,\u201d she said. \u201cIt was a joke. Everybody laughed. I never thought he would take it like this.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe thought you didn\u2019t want to hold him anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n
Patricia looked up at her son.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s ridiculous,\u201d she said. \u201cI love that child. I love him more than anything in this world.\u201d<\/p>\n
David crouched down in front of her chair, so that his face was level with hers.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen why,\u201d he said quietly, \u201cdid he think he had to become smaller to get his grandmother back?\u201d<\/p>\n
Patricia stared at the card in her lap.<\/p>\n
She opened her mouth.<\/p>\n
She closed it again.<\/p>\n
For once in her life, she didn\u2019t have an answer.
\nWe stayed like that for a while. Patricia in the chair. David crouching in front of her. Me standing against the wall with my arms crossed. A nurse walked past and looked at us and kept walking.<\/p>\n
\u201cI was worried about his stomach,\u201d Patricia whispered after a long time. \u201cYou know I was. I asked Sarah in the car to make sure the doctor looked at it properly. I asked you, David, on the phone. Didn\u2019t I? I said, make sure they check it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know you did, Mom,\u201d David said. \u201cThat\u2019s why the jokes hurt even more.\u201d<\/p>\n
Patricia wiped her cheeks with her tissue.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou knew something was wrong,\u201d David said. \u201cYou knew he was scared. You drove him to the doctor. And then you sat at that table and laughed at the exact thing he was scared of.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t think of it like that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know you didn\u2019t. That\u2019s the problem.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPlease,\u201d Patricia said. \u201cPlease, David. Please let me see him.\u201d<\/p>\n
David glanced toward Oliver\u2019s door.<\/p>\n
He was quiet for a long moment.<\/p>\n
\u201cNot until he wants to,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
Patricia started crying harder. Not quietly. The way she must have cried in her kitchen that day, with Oliver standing in the hallway listening.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re shutting me out,\u201d she said. \u201cMy grandson is sick, and you\u2019re shutting me out. After everything. After your father. I\u2019m alone, David. I\u2019m all alone in that house. And you\u2019re keeping me away from my own grandson when he might be\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
She couldn\u2019t finish.<\/p>\n
I saw it happen on David\u2019s face. The thing I\u2019d seen a hundred times in twelve years of marriage. The little flinch. The way his shoulders came up. The way he started to reach for her.<\/p>\n
He\u2019d been doing it his whole life. Since he was a chubby little boy crying in his bedroom at Christmas.<\/p>\n
Then he stopped.<\/p>\n
He took a breath.<\/p>\n
He shook his head.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom,\u201d he said. \u201cHe\u2019s the one who\u2019s sick. This isn\u2019t about making you feel better.\u201d<\/p>\n
Patricia lowered the card into her lap.<\/p>\n
She looked at her son for a long time, like she was seeing someone she didn\u2019t quite recognize.<\/p>\n
She didn\u2019t argue again.<\/p>\n
After a while, she picked up the canvas grocery bag from the floor and held it out.<\/p>\n
\u201cHis pajamas,\u201d she said, in a small voice. \u201cThe rocket ones. And his crackers.\u201d<\/p>\n
I took the bag from her.<\/p>\n
\u201cThank you, Patricia,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
She nodded. She stood up. She held the yellow card against her chest with both hands.<\/p>\n
\u201cCan I keep this?\u201d she said. \u201cIt\u2019s mine. He made it for me.\u201d<\/p>\n
David looked at me. I nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d David said. \u201cIt\u2019s yours.\u201d<\/p>\n
She walked away down the long hallway toward the elevators. She looked so small. Seventy years old, in yesterday\u2019s blouse, holding a piece of yellow cardstock.<\/p>\n
I\u2019d been so angry at her all night. I was still angry.<\/p>\n
But watching her walk away, I felt something else too. Something I didn\u2019t want to feel.<\/p>\n
Later that evening, David sat with Oliver while I went to get some water from the machine down the hall.<\/p>\n
When I came back, I stopped in the doorway.<\/p>\n
David was sitting on the edge of the bed. Oliver was propped up on his pillows in his rocket pajamas, with the goldfish crackers open on the tray table.<\/p>\n
David was speaking softly.<\/p>\n
\u201cI should have listened,\u201d he was saying, \u201cwhen you told me Grandma\u2019s jokes hurt. In the car. I should have listened, and I didn\u2019t. I\u2019m sorry, buddy.\u201d<\/p>\n
Oliver picked at Stomper\u2019s missing eye with his fingernail.<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t want her to cry,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWill she cry if I don\u2019t want to see her?\u201d<\/p>\n
David thought about it. He didn\u2019t rush. He didn\u2019t say the easy thing.<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
Oliver\u2019s eyes went wide. Like he couldn\u2019t believe his father had said it out loud.<\/p>\n
David took his hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cGrown-ups are allowed to be sad, buddy,\u201d he said. \u201cIt\u2019s okay for Grandma to be sad. But it\u2019s not your job to stop them. It\u2019s never your job.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut then you\u2019ll be sad,\u201d Oliver said.<\/p>\n
\u201cI might be,\u201d David said. \u201cSometimes. That\u2019s not your job either.\u201d<\/p>\n
Oliver thought about that.<\/p>\n
I could see him thinking. He has a little wrinkle that comes between his eyebrows when he\u2019s working something out, like when he\u2019s trying to sound out a long word. It was there now.<\/p>\n
\u201cCan I tell you,\u201d he said slowly, \u201cwhen someone makes me sad?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEvery time,\u201d David said. \u201cEvery single time. Even if it\u2019s Grandma. Even if it\u2019s me. Especially if it\u2019s me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Oliver looked at him for a long time.<\/p>\n
Then he leaned over sideways and put his head against his father\u2019s chest.<\/p>\n
David put his arms around him.<\/p>\n
I stood in the doorway holding two paper cups of water and watched them.<\/p>\n
And I realized that was the first time I\u2019d ever seen my husband hold our son without looking over his shoulder toward his mother\u2019s feelings.<\/p>\n
The weeks that followed weren\u2019t easy.<\/p>\n
I won\u2019t pretend they were.<\/p>\n
The specialist, Dr. Kwan, was a tall, quiet man with a bow tie covered in tiny cartoon planets. He sat down on a rolling stool in Oliver\u2019s room three days later, so that he was lower than Oliver, and he talked to Oliver first, before he talked to us.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019ve got a lump inside your tummy,\u201d he told him. \u201cNext to your kidney. Do you know what a kidney is?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt cleans your blood,\u201d Oliver said. \u201cAnd makes pee.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dr. Kwan raised his eyebrows. \u201cThat\u2019s exactly right. Very good.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe learned it in science.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell,\u201d Dr. Kwan said, \u201cthis lump isn\u2019t supposed to be there. It\u2019s been growing, and that\u2019s why your tummy got bigger, and that\u2019s why it hurts. So we\u2019re going to take it out. And then we\u2019re going to give you some special medicine to make sure it doesn\u2019t come back.\u201d<\/p>\n
Oliver looked down at his stomach.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo my tummy wasn\u2019t big because I\u2019m fat?\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
The room went very quiet.<\/p>\n
Dr. Kwan looked at me. Then back at Oliver. He took his time before he answered.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d he said. \u201cYour tummy got bigger because something was growing inside it that shouldn\u2019t be. That\u2019s not your fault, and it has nothing to do with how much cake you eat or anything like that. Okay? Nothing you did made this happen.\u201d<\/p>\n
Oliver nodded slowly.<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t say anything else.<\/p>\n
But that night, for the first time since the birthday dinner, he fell asleep with his hands down at his sides.<\/p>\n
The growth was serious. Dr. Kwan explained it to David and me later, in a little room with a box of tissues on the table. It was a kind of tumor that happens mostly in young children. They\u2019d caught it, he said, before it had spread very far. That was the good news. There was a lot of good news, actually, about this kind of tumor, if you had to have one.<\/p>\n
But it was still cancer. That word was still in the room.<\/p>\n
Oliver had surgery the following week. Four hours. David and I sat in the waiting room and didn\u2019t speak. David held my hand so tightly my wedding ring left a mark.<\/p>\n
When the surgeon came out and said, \u201cIt went well. We got all of it,\u201d David put his face in his hands and cried. Loud. In front of the whole waiting room. He didn\u2019t care who saw.<\/p>\n
After the surgery came the treatment. Chemotherapy, every week for a while. Then every few weeks.<\/p>\n
There were days when Oliver was tired. Days when he threw up in a pink plastic basin and then apologized to the nurse for making a mess. Days when he was frightened, and held my hand so hard during the needles that his fingernails left little moons in my skin.<\/p>\n
And there were days when he was angry. Really angry. Angry about being in the hospital again. Angry about missing soccer. Angry about missing his friend Marcus\u2019s birthday party, where there was going to be a magician.<\/p>\n
One afternoon, he threw Gerald the Triceratops across the room and yelled, \u201cI hate this! I hate it! I hate everything!\u201d<\/p>\n
Then he looked at me, scared, waiting to see if I\u2019d be upset.<\/p>\n
I picked Gerald up off the floor and handed him back.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re allowed to hate it,\u201d I said. \u201cI hate it too.\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked surprised. Then, slowly, he started to laugh. And then he was crying, and laughing, and I was holding him, and we both said \u201cI hate it\u201d about twenty more times until it was mostly just funny.<\/p>\n
His hair started falling out in the fourth week.<\/p>\n
He found it on his pillow in the morning. Little clumps of brown. He held a piece of it in his hand and stared at it.<\/p>\n
\u201cWill I look weird?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019ll look like you,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
\u201cWill people laugh?\u201d
\nI didn\u2019t promise that they wouldn\u2019t. I couldn\u2019t. I\u2019d stopped making promises I couldn\u2019t keep.<\/p>\n
\u201cSome people might say dumb things,\u201d I said. \u201cAnd if they do, you can tell me. Every time.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you won\u2019t tell me not to take it so seriously?\u201d<\/p>\n
He said it very casually, looking at the hair in his hand. But he said it.<\/p>\n
David was standing in the doorway with a cup of coffee. He heard it.<\/p>\n
He came and sat down on the bed.<\/p>\n
\u201cNever,\u201d David said. \u201cI\u2019ll never tell you that again.\u201d<\/p>\n
That weekend, David shaved his own head, in our bathroom, with Oliver sitting on the counter holding the clippers for the last stripe. They laughed so hard they had to stop twice.<\/p>\n
Patricia sent messages all through those weeks.<\/p>\n
Long ones, at first. Paragraphs and paragraphs. How is he? Is he eating? Did the surgery go well? Please tell him Grandma loves him. Please tell him I\u2019m praying for him every night. Please let me come.<\/p>\n
David answered every one of them. He told her the truth about how Oliver was doing. He sent her a picture of Oliver after surgery, giving a thumbs-up from his hospital bed.<\/p>\n
But he stopped promising visits on Oliver\u2019s behalf.<\/p>\n
One night, I heard him on the phone in our kitchen.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, Mom. Not this week,\u201d he said. \u201cI asked him, and he said he\u2019s not ready\u2026 I know\u2026 I know it hurts. I\u2019m sorry it hurts\u2026 No, I\u2019m not going to make him\u2026 Because it\u2019s his choice, Mom. That\u2019s why\u2026 Okay. I love you too. Goodnight.\u201d<\/p>\n
He hung up.<\/p>\n
He stood at the kitchen counter with his hands flat on it for a long time.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you okay?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d he said. \u201cBut that\u2019s not his job either.\u201d<\/p>\n
About a month after the surgery, Patricia called me instead of David.<\/p>\n
That had never happened before. In twelve years, she\u2019d called me maybe three times, and one of them was by accident.<\/p>\n
\u201cSarah,\u201d she said. Her voice was very quiet. \u201cI wondered if you\u2019d have coffee with me. Just you. Just for twenty minutes. You can say no.\u201d<\/p>\n
I almost said no.<\/p>\n
I said yes.<\/p>\n
We met at a little diner halfway between our houses. She was already there when I arrived, in a booth by the window, with a cup of tea she hadn\u2019t touched. She was wearing a gray cardigan. No makeup. She looked older than I\u2019d ever seen her.<\/p>\n
\u201cThank you for coming,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
I sat down.<\/p>\n
For a long time, she didn\u2019t say anything. She just turned her teacup around and around on its saucer.<\/p>\n
\u201cI keep reading his card,\u201d she said finally. \u201cEvery night. I keep it on my nightstand.\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t say anything.<\/p>\n
\u201cI wish I could be little again so you could hold me like before.\u201d She said it without looking at the card. She\u2019d memorized it. \u201cI keep thinking, what kind of grandmother makes a little boy wish he was smaller?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPatricia\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. Let me.\u201d She held up her hand. \u201cI need to say this to someone, and I can\u2019t say it to David, because he\u2019ll try to make me feel better. He\u2019s been trying to make me feel better his whole life.\u201d<\/p>\n
I closed my mouth.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy mother used to weigh me,\u201d she said. \u201cEvery Sunday morning. Before church. On the bathroom scale. And she\u2019d write it in a little notebook. And if it went up, she\u2019d sigh. That\u2019s all. She\u2019d just sigh. And she wouldn\u2019t let me have any dessert at Sunday dinner. My brothers got pie. I got a glass of water.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at her.<\/p>\n
\u201cI was eight,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
She turned the teacup again.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not telling you this so you\u2019ll feel sorry for me,\u201d she said. \u201cI\u2019m telling you because I swore I\u2019d never be like her. I swore it. And I thought I wasn\u2019t. I thought, I never weigh him, I never take away his dessert, I\u2019m just joking. I\u2019m just being funny. Everyone laughs.\u201d She shook her head. \u201cBut I watched him at that table. I watched him pull his shirt down. And I knew that face, Sarah. I know that exact face. I\u2019ve seen it in the mirror.\u201d<\/p>\n
She was crying now. Quietly. Not the way she cried at David.<\/p>\n
\u201cI just didn\u2019t want to see it,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t forgive her that day. I want to be honest about that.<\/p>\n
I sat there in that diner booth, and I felt sorry for the eight-year-old girl drinking water while her brothers ate pie. I really did.<\/p>\n
But I\u2019d also sat beside a hospital bed and watched my son cover his stomach with his hands while he slept.<\/p>\n
\u201cI appreciate you telling me,\u201d I said finally. \u201cI do. But Patricia, he\u2019s the one who gets to decide. Not me. Not David. Not you.\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know,\u201d she said. \u201cI know he does.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd when he\u2019s ready,\u201d I said, \u201cif he\u2019s ready, you can\u2019t make it about you. You can\u2019t cry at him. You can\u2019t tell him you were joking. You just have to say you\u2019re sorry and then let him decide what happens next.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked at me for a long time.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll do whatever he needs,\u201d she said. \u201cWhatever it takes.\u201d<\/p>\n
I believed she meant it.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t know yet if she could do it.<\/p>\n
Two weeks later, at breakfast, Oliver put down his spoon.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs Grandma still sad?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n
David and I looked at each other.<\/p>\n
\u201cProbably,\u201d David said honestly. \u201cShe misses you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Oliver thought about it. The little wrinkle came between his eyebrows.<\/p>\n
\u201cCan she come over?\u201d he said. \u201cJust for a little bit? Not a long time?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course,\u201d I said. \u201cIf you want her to.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know if I want her to,\u201d Oliver said. \u201cI just want to see what it\u2019s like.\u201d<\/p>\n
She came that Saturday.<\/p>\n
She came without a gift. David had told her not to bring one, and for once, she listened. No toy, no cake, no balloon. Just Patricia, in her gray cardigan, standing on our front porch, holding nothing.<\/p>\n
Oliver was sitting on the couch in the living room with Gerald on his lap and a knit hat on his bald head. He didn\u2019t get up when she came in.<\/p>\n
Patricia stopped in the doorway of the living room.<\/p>\n
She looked at him. At the hat. At how thin his face had gotten.<\/p>\n
I saw her hand go to her mouth.<\/p>\n
Then I watched her take it down again. I watched her swallow. I watched her decide not to cry.<\/p>\n
She walked over and sat down in the armchair across from the couch. Not next to him. Across from him. With the coffee table between them.<\/p>\n
\u201cHi, Oliver,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cHi, Grandma.\u201d<\/p>\n
She folded her hands in her lap.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry I made jokes about your tummy,\u201d she told him. \u201cI was wrong. You didn\u2019t deserve that. Not at my birthday, and not any of the other times either. It wasn\u2019t funny. It was mean, and I\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n
She didn\u2019t say I was only joking.<\/p>\n
She didn\u2019t say I didn\u2019t mean it.<\/p>\n
She didn\u2019t say I love you so much or You know Grandma loves you or anything that asked him to make her feel better.<\/p>\n
She just said it, and then she stopped talking.<\/p>\n
Oliver looked at her hands. They were folded in her lap, very still.<\/p>\n
He looked at them for a long time.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you still think I\u2019m too big?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, sweetheart,\u201d Patricia said.<\/p>\n
\u201cFor your chair?\u201d<\/p>\n
Patricia swallowed. I saw her throat move.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat chair,\u201d she said slowly, \u201cwas never supposed to make you feel unwanted. That was my mistake. Not yours.\u201d She took a breath. \u201cYou can sit beside me. Or on my lap, if you\u2019re comfortable. Or across the room from me. You get to choose. Every time.\u201d<\/p>\n
Oliver didn\u2019t say anything.<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t get up. He didn\u2019t hug her.<\/p>\n
He looked down at Gerald on his lap, and he picked at the Triceratops\u2019s flat horn.<\/p>\n
Then he looked back up.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you still have my dinosaur books?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cI do,\u201d Patricia said. \u201cAll of them. They\u2019re on the shelf by the window. Right where you left them.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEven the flying one?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEven the flying one.\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded slowly.<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
That was it. That was the whole visit, almost. She stayed for twenty minutes. They talked about his hospital. He showed her the scar on his tummy, very quickly, lifting his shirt just an inch and putting it back down. She looked at it and said, \u201cThat\u2019s a very brave scar,\u201d and nothing else.<\/p>\n
When she left, she didn\u2019t ask for a hug. She said, \u201cGoodbye, Oliver. Thank you for letting me come.\u201d<\/p>\n
At the front door, out of his sight, she held on to the door frame for a second with both hands. Then she straightened up and walked to her car.<\/p>\n
Over the following months, their visits were short.<\/p>\n
Twenty minutes. Half an hour. Sometimes an hour, if Oliver was having a good day.<\/p>\n
Sometimes he wanted her to read. Sometimes he didn\u2019t. Sometimes he just wanted to show her his drawings, or tell her a long story about a dinosaur fight he\u2019d imagined, which took twenty minutes and had no ending.<\/p>\n
She listened to all of it.<\/p>\n
She stopped commenting on his body. Completely. Not his tummy, not his hair, not how thin he\u2019d gotten during treatment, not how much he ate or didn\u2019t eat. She just stopped.<\/p>\n
When he said he was tired, she listened. She\u2019d stand up right away, in the middle of a sentence, and say, \u201cThen I\u2019ll go, and I\u2019ll come back another day.\u201d And she\u2019d go.<\/p>\n
Once, during a bad week, he didn\u2019t want to see her at all. David called her and told her not to come.<\/p>\n
She didn\u2019t cry on the phone. David told me that afterward, like it was a small miracle.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe just said, Okay. Tell him I hope he feels better,\u201d David said. \u201cThat\u2019s all. Then she hung up.\u201d<\/p>\n
The first time she read to him again was on a Sunday afternoon in early spring, in our living room.<\/p>\n
She brought the dinosaur book. The one with the footprints.<\/p>\n
Oliver sat at the other end of the sofa. As far away from her as the sofa would let him. Gerald was between them, like a fence.<\/p>\n
Patricia opened the book to the first page, the one with the big muddy footprints crossing the paper.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou remember this one?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n
Oliver nodded. But he didn\u2019t move closer.<\/p>\n
She read anyway.<\/p>\n
She read the whole thing from the other end of the couch. She did the voices, but softer than she used to. The T. rex didn\u2019t roar quite as loud.<\/p>\n
Halfway through, she got to a long dinosaur name and said it wrong.<\/p>\n
\u201cPa-chy-SEPH-a-lo-saurus,\u201d Patricia read.<\/p>\n
\u201cGrandma,\u201d Oliver said. \u201cIt\u2019s pachy-CEPH-a-lo-saurus. It\u2019s a K sound.\u201d<\/p>\n
Patricia stopped. She looked at him over her reading glasses.<\/p>\n
Then she smiled. A real smile. Not the big birthday-party smile. A small one.<\/p>\n
\u201cPachy-ceph-a-lo-saurus,\u201d she said carefully.<\/p>\n
\u201cBetter,\u201d Oliver said.<\/p>\n
She kept reading.<\/p>\n
When the book ended, she didn\u2019t ask for a kiss. She didn\u2019t say Come give Grandma a hug. She just closed it and put it on the coffee table.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll bring the next one,\u201d she said, \u201cif you want.\u201d<\/p>\n
After she left, Oliver came into the kitchen, where I was washing dishes.<\/p>\n
He climbed up on one of the stools at the counter and sat there for a while, swinging his legs.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom,\u201d he said. \u201cWas Grandma mad because I didn\u2019t hug her?\u201d<\/p>\n
I turned off the water and dried my hands.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d I said. \u201cShe wasn\u2019t mad.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow do you know?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause she smiled when you fixed her dinosaur word. Did you see?\u201d<\/p>\n
He thought about it.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd even if she was disappointed,\u201d I said, \u201cyou wouldn\u2019t have done anything wrong. Okay? You never have to hug anybody to make them feel better. Not even Grandma. Not even me.\u201d<\/p>\n
He considered that for a long time. The little wrinkle came and went between his eyebrows.<\/p>\n
\u201cCan she bring the book with the flying one next time?\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
She brought the flying one the next Sunday.<\/p>\n
He sat in the middle of the couch that time. Gerald was still between them, but Gerald was closer.<\/p>\n
The Sunday after that, she brought the one with the T. rex who was scared of the dark. Oliver said it was a baby book. Then he asked her to read it twice.<\/p>\n
By the end of April, Gerald had moved to the floor.<\/p>\n
In May, Oliver finished his last round of chemo.<\/p>\n
At the hospital, they have a big brass bell on the wall by the nurses\u2019 station. When a kid finishes treatment, they get to ring it. Everybody on the floor comes out to clap.<\/p>\n
Oliver rang it so hard the nurses had to cover their ears. He kept ringing it until Dr. Kwan gently took his hand and said, \u201cI think they heard you in Canada, Oliver.\u201d<\/p>\n
David and I were crying. Tamika, the nurse from the first night, was crying. Dr. Kwan pretended he wasn\u2019t, but he took his glasses off and cleaned them for a long time.<\/p>\n
Patricia was there too. She stood at the very back, behind everybody, by the elevators. She\u2019d asked if she could come, and Oliver had said yes.<\/p>\n
When he finished ringing the bell, he turned around and looked through all the people until he found her.<\/p>\n
He waved.<\/p>\n
She waved back. She didn\u2019t come forward. She just stood there by the elevators and waved, with tears running down her face.<\/p>\n
One afternoon in June, several months after the birthday dinner, we had cake at home.<\/p>\n
There was no birthday. No holiday. Dr. Kwan had called that morning to say Oliver\u2019s latest scans were clear. Completely clear. No signs of anything.<\/p>\n
\u201cCelebrate today,\u201d he said on the phone. \u201cI mean it. Have some cake.\u201d<\/p>\n
So we did.<\/p>\n
I baked a chocolate one, a little lopsided, and I let Oliver decorate it with plastic dinosaurs from his toy bin after I washed them in the sink. There was a T. rex on top, and a Brachiosaurus, and a big-headed Pachycephalosaurus right in the middle. Stomper, the one with the missing eye, was guarding the edge.<\/p>\n
David\u2019s sister Linda came, with her kids. A couple of neighbors. And Patricia.<\/p>\n
Oliver was sitting beside Patricia at the dining table. Right beside her. Their chairs were touching. He was showing her a dinosaur he\u2019d drawn on the back of a paper placemat, a giant purple one with wings and four legs and a long curly tail.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s a new kind,\u201d he was telling her. \u201cNobody discovered it yet. I\u2019m going to discover it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s it called?\u201d Patricia asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cOliversaurus.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s a very good name.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
His hair was starting to grow back. Just a soft brown fuzz, like a peach. His cheeks were filling out again. He\u2019d gotten a little sunburned on the back of his neck at soccer practice the day before. It was the first soccer practice he\u2019d been to in seven months.<\/p>\n
I brought out the cake and set it in the middle of the table.<\/p>\n
Everybody said \u201cOoh.\u201d Linda\u2019s kids started arguing over who got the T. rex.<\/p>\n
Oliver leaned forward and reached for a slice.<\/p>\n
Then he stopped.<\/p>\n
His hand was halfway to the plate. Just like at the birthday dinner. Frozen there, in the air.<\/p>\n
He glanced sideways at Patricia.<\/p>\n
My heart stopped. I saw David see it too. He went very still across the table.<\/p>\n
Patricia didn\u2019t say anything. She didn\u2019t look at his stomach. She didn\u2019t laugh. She just kept looking at the purple Oliversaurus on the placemat in front of her.<\/p>\n
David leaned forward.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhich piece do you want, buddy?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n
Oliver looked at his dad.<\/p>\n
Then he pointed.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat one,\u201d he said. \u201cThe one with the chocolate dinosaur. The one with the biggest head.\u201d<\/p>\n
David cut the slice with the Pachycephalosaurus on it and put it on a plate and handed it to him.<\/p>\n
Oliver took a big bite.<\/p>\n
He kept right on talking about dinosaurs, with frosting on his chin. About how the Pachycephalosaurus used its head to bonk other dinosaurs. About how its skull was ten inches thick. About how Grandma had said the name wrong but she was getting better.<\/p>\n
Patricia laughed at that one. A real laugh. Oliver laughed too.<\/p>\n
His shirt stayed right where it was.<\/p>\n
And nobody at that table had anything to say about his stomach.<\/p>\n
THE END..!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
\u201cSlow down, sweetheart!\u201d my mother-in-law laughed. \u201cYou\u2019re getting a little too curvy!\u201d A few relatives laughed with her. My son, Oliver, froze with his hand halfway to the cake plate. … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":37271,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,4,5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-58274","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-family","category-inspiration","category-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/58274","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=58274"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/58274\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":58275,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/58274\/revisions\/58275"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/37271"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=58274"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=58274"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=58274"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}