From Ant to Eagle(50)

Mr. Alvarado opened his mouth to reply but instead looked at Dad.

“Please?” I said, holding my hands together and giving Dad the most innocent look I could.

“It’s fine with me,” he said.

And like that, Aleta was coming to the hospital.





CHAPTER 30

WHEN WE FIRST WALKED INTO THE HOSPITAL ROOM, I KEPT STARing at Aleta, trying to judge her reaction. I knew she must have been shocked. How could she not have been? In two and a half weeks Sammy had transformed from a healthy-looking, albeit skinnier kid, to a mostly-bald, tube-attached-to-his-face, exhausted-looking ghost of a child. But Aleta’s emotions were always hard to read. She had spent months practicing the art of hiding emotion and it served her well.

Sammy was asleep so I walked over and sat on his bed, intentionally flopping down a little harder than usual to wake him. He opened his eyes and for a second didn’t seem to recognize Aleta. Then he smiled, his lips dried and cracked.

“Hi, Aleta,” he said.

“Hi, Sammy,” she replied. “I see you have a ton of new toys.”

It was true. Sammy’s room was slowly becoming Oliver’s. It seemed like every day of the week there was some group or team or fundraiser that dropped off a bunch of stuff for everyone on the floor. Bingo nights were only one of the many giveaways.

Aleta picked up the baseball Sammy had gotten from Dr. Parker and read the inscription.

“This ball is pretty neat,” she said, looking it over.

“Cal has one too,” Sammy said, his eyes suddenly bright. “They’re from the London Hurr…what are they called?” Sammy asked, looking at me.

“Hurricanes,” I said, stepping up beside Aleta.

“Yeah, Hurricames,” he repeated.

While Aleta and Sammy continued to talk about the various toys around the room I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. The whole distraction thing seemed to come so naturally to her. She never once asked how he felt or what any of the various tubes around the room were or commented that he looked like a zombie even though he really did look like a zombie.

Dad had gone to sit next to Mom but she had quickly stood up and said she needed a coffee. It might have just been Oliver’s conversation but I was acutely aware of Mom and Dad’s interactions—watching for further signs of the cancer crumble.

On her way out Mom smiled and said hello to Aleta. There was still a level of awkwardness between them but at least now I understood.

Finally, Aleta and Sammy seemed to be running out of things to talk about and I could tell he was beginning to have trouble keeping his eyes open because they kept fluttering closed.

“So how are you liking Huxbury?” Dad asked.

“It’s okay,” Aleta said, moving around the bed.

Dad and Aleta talked for a few minutes and I waited to make sure Sammy was asleep before grabbing her by the sleeve and pulling her toward the door. “We’re just going to go to the games room,” I said to Dad and he nodded and grabbed his magazine. But just as we were leaving the room Sammy’s eyes snapped back open with a scared look on his face.

“Where are you guys going?” he asked.

“I was just going to show Aleta the games room,” I said, retracing my steps back into the room, feeling suddenly guilty.

“Oh.”

Sammy looked sad.

“We won’t go if you’re awake,” I said. “We can stay and read to you if you want?”

Sammy shook his head looking down at the bed. “No,” he said, “it’s fine. You guys like it better when I’m not around anyway.”

I saw Aleta’s expression and knew it was exactly how I looked. It was the look of someone who’d just been stabbed in the stomach.

“Why would you think that?” I said, faking confusion.

We had avoided Sammy for the whole summer. He wasn’t stupid. With Aleta back, he was worried it would happen again. If I was going to have Aleta to the hospital, I was going to have to offer Sammy some reassurance.

I sat down on the bed next to him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around much this summer. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to hang out with you, it was just that, well, I was being selfish.”

Aleta stood next to me. “I’m sorry too, Sammy,” she said.

I looked at her and with a nod we made a tacit agreement. “We have somewhere we want to show you when you’re better,” I said.

Aleta smiled and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Really? Where?” Sammy asked.

“It’s a secret spot. Across the fields, behind our house. It’s a long walk but it’s worth it. There’s a pond for swimming, a mud river for sliding and best of all, a view all the way to Lake Huron. You’ll love it.”

Sammy became more awake than I’d seen him in days.

“Can you tell me more?” he asked.

“Sure.”

We sat at the end of his bed describing at length the shady reading trees and the taste of the sun when it was starting to set. While I dramatically re-enacted swimming and sliding, Aleta added in the occasional detail—a colour, a smell, a sound. Together we recreated our summer. Only this time, we shared it with Sammy.

When he was just about asleep—mind rotating between our world and his—I offered him a plan. I grabbed the walkie-talkies from the bedside table and put one beside him. “When you wake up, if I’m not here, call me on this. I want to know whenever you’re awake so I can come back and be with you. Okay?”