From Ant to Eagle(45)

Oliver was sitting on the bed with a little girl I guessed to be about three or four in his lap. She was wearing a small, black polka dot dress like the women but her hat had come untied and was tipping off her head. She smiled a big toothy smile at me as I entered.

“Meet the Walter crew,” Oliver said, pointing around the room. “You know my ma, and these are my aunties,” he pointed at the bed and the women nodded slightly. “And my pa, and two of my brothers, Paul and Isaiah.”

The man at the end of the bed tipped his hat to me and the two little boys did the same. I wished I had a hat to tip back. That would’ve been fun.

“And this is the littlest Walter—Sarah. She’s only three years old.”

“Four!” the little girl said, looking back at Oliver indignantly.

Oliver smiled and poked her in the side. “I know, I know, I was just kidding.”

The little girl giggled and squirmed in his lap as he tickled her.

I was still feeling pretty lousy about the fight between Mom and Dad and wished I hadn’t walked in to Oliver’s room. I just wasn’t in the mood for introductions. Still, I couldn’t just leave and it would have been rude not to say anything.

“You sure have a lot of brothers and sisters.”

“Oh, this is only half of us,” Oliver replied, as he let Sarah slide off his lap and onto the floor. She ran around the bed and jumped into her mother’s lap. “I have three older brothers and an older sister back home. These are just the unfortunate three selected to come visit this week.”

“Oliver!” his mother said.

It was the first time I’d heard his mother say anything.

“Sorry, Ma,” Oliver said sheepishly, “I was only kidding.”

I noticed Oliver’s dad shifting uncomfortably back and forth in his cowboy boots. “We should probably be heading out,” he said. He turned toward me and tipped his hat again. “It was nice to meet you, Cal.” His two clones also tipped their hats and the three of them walked past me into the hall.

The aunts looked at Oliver’s mom and she nodded. They stood, one of them grabbing Sarah’s hand while she clung tightly to her mother’s leg. “Go on, Sarah,” I heard her mother whisper as she leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the top of her head. Reluctantly, Sarah let go and started to follow her aunts out of the room but when she was nearly out the door she broke free and rushed back in. She jumped up on the side of Oliver’s bed and he helped her up. I guess even with arms like toothpicks he still had some strength. He hugged his little sister briefly before putting her back down. This time she ran back out of the room and I heard her tiny footsteps disappear down the hall.

I looked back at Oliver but there was a funny haze in his eyes. He turned and stared out the window, as if trying to hide his face.

“Were you heading to the games room?” he asked, still not looking at me.

I nodded, before realizing he couldn’t see me. “Yeah,” I said.

“Okay, I’ll join you.”

As he turned to climb out of bed I saw him quickly wipe his eyes on his sleeve. His mom came around and helped him with his IV. She walked behind us pushing the pole but left when we sat down in front of the TV and started playing Mario.

My mind wasn’t really into the game so I was especially bad. I just couldn’t bring myself to care. I kept thinking about Mom and Dad arguing and Sammy’s growing depression.

After I’d died for the umpteenth time at the first stupid mushroom man walking back and forth between two pipes, Oliver turned to me.

“Okay, so I know you usually suck at this game,” he said, “but today you’re especially sucky. What’s up?”

“It’s nothing,” I said, trying my best to focus enough to get Luigi past the mushroom man but dying again.

“It’s not nothing. As a person constantly bothered, I have pretty good insight into other people’s level of botheredness.” Oliver lifted the area above his eyes where his eyebrows should have been, prodding me to talk.

“It’s my Mom and Dad. I can’t stand being around them. They’re constantly fighting and I hate it.”

Oliver’s face changed. His normally permanent grin went serious for once.

“Already, huh?”

“Already?”

“I call it the cancer crumble. It happens to most families in here. Something about the stress of having a child with cancer breaks families down. Even my family has gone through it and we’re Mennonite, our colony is supposed to be built around family.”

Mennonite. That was it. I remembered where I’d seen Oliver’s mom, or at least people dressed like her. We’d gone on a class field trip to a Mennonite farm back in grade three or four outside of London. The only thing I vaguely remembered was the way they dressed and the fact that they didn’t use electricity—no TV, no lights, no nothing.

“Remember when I told you I’ve been in here longer than anyone else?”

I nodded. “Six hundred days or something.”

“671 now. But that’s not entirely true. There’s one other person who’s been here just as long as I have, not counting the doctors and nurses.”

“Who?”

“My mom. She hasn’t left for a single day. So how do you think that affects our family? My brothers and sisters haven’t seen their mom but for weekends in over two years. It’s not surprising that our family has troubles.”