Love from A to Z(67)

I didn’t know what to say.

Because it wasn’t the truth.

? ? ?

As an act of solidarity with me and my diagnosis, everyone in the group, including Emma D., who’d dropped by while we were gathering for the photo, after visiting a friend, and even Tsetso, who was already back at university in France, posted the group picture of us on all our socials, with no message accompanying it.

We posted it right then and there, at the exact same time, everyone back at our spots on the patio, Connor passing around bags of chips he’d rummaged from the kitchen.

It was one of those pictures that was frame worthy, that would be talked about when we grew up, that already felt nostalgic.

I looked at it and whispered a prayer of gratitude.

Gratitude for the fact that I did have this special family of friends.

In the photo, we were settled on the sunshine-filled lawn, looking up, sitting in a semicircle around one of the big white rocks. Hanna had stood on top of it to take our picture with her iPad, after a vigorous debate with Connor as to whose device had the better camera.

I’m in the middle, Jacob on one side of me, with Madison and Isaac beside him, Connor on the other side of me, and then Emma Z., Emma D., and Emma P. We were all smiling up into the camera. But Emma P. and me?

Our smiles were forced.

“Your sister takes great pictures, Adam,” Emma D. said, motioning Hanna over. “This is awesome, Hanna. Thanks.”

“See Adam? I am a great photographer!” Hanna crossed her arms at me before flouncing over to sit on the arm of my chair.

“I didn’t say you weren’t.”

“You deleted the pictures I sent you from the museum yesterday. The ones with Zayneb.”

I stared at her.

Hanna laughed. “I saw you deleting them last night! From my bedroom window!”

She scooted away, back to her bike.

Oh God. She’s such a sneak. Her bedroom window faces the patio. Where I’d been sitting last night after dinner, while Dad read to Hanna in her room.

She must have used that telescope she keeps at her window.

Everyone looked at me, some more pointedly than others.

I avoided Emma P.’s face.

“I was with Zayneb before I came here.” Emma D. picked up a chip from the pile in her palm. “She found out more information on how her grandmother passed away.”

Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi rajioon. The prayer came immediately to me. To God we belong and to God we return.

“That sucks,” Connor said, passing the bag of chips my way, along with an inquisitive glance.

He was checking my reaction on hearing about Zayneb. So I gave him a sincere one. “I hope Zayneb’s okay.”

“She is. But it was really terrible. Her grandmother died months back in Pakistan, and they only found out now that it was in—get this—a drone strike. Her family’d never known.” Emma D. shook her head and rubbed her palms together to get rid of chip crumbs. “She’s so down. And yeah, angry. Like anyone would be.”

Emma P. spoke. “That’s awful. We should do something for her.”

“Oh, yeah, maybe we can stop by her place? She was just in bed when I left her.” Emma D. perked up. “We can take some food or something? Ms. Raymond would probably like that, for us to see her.”

“Who’s in?” Emma P. looked around.

Madison, Jacob, Isaac, and Connor bowed out, having other things to do. Emma Z. said, “Of course!”

Emma P. turned to me, and I tried not to see too much in her gaze, but it was there, that slight Is this the girl you met who you told me about? That aha! curiosity.

“I can’t,” I said. “Dad promised Hanna some stuff later this afternoon, after which we’re going to sit her down to tell her about my MS.”

She nodded, satisfied.

I couldn’t help adding something. “But can you tell Zayneb I’ll do a dua for her grandmother today, with my dad? A prayer?”

She nodded again.

? ? ?

When everyone left, I went down to the workroom, bringing along one of the folding chairs from the patio. I set it in the middle of the empty, half-painted room and sat on it to gaze around, to envision everything again.

My ideas were half-formed, but I knew what I wanted. I wanted a reminder of the good things in life, the marvels of the world, for these to flood whoever walked into the room. Filled with lights and shapes and sudden little details that were hidden until they weren’t, until you came upon them at the right time.

I dipped my head back and stared at the ceiling.

The sky atop was a brilliant blue, like Hanna’s azurite . . . like Zayneb’s scarf.

I stood and folded the chair to take it out of the room.

Maybe I’d finish painting everything.

But the ladder, leaning in a corner, only reminded me of Tuesday, and then the thoughts came tumbling back.

What if I get another attack? When I’m on my own?

Dad made it a point to check on me every few hours, and I was okay with that, but what about when he went back to work?

We had an appointment with a neurologist this week, but that didn’t mean it would be smooth sailing after.

It didn’t mean I could get my life sorted out again.

But I could sort the pieces I’d started working on for the room. The thin blades of wood, the flattened bottle caps I’d scraped the paint off of and then drilled with patterned holes to let light through, that I was going to use in homage to the geometry found in nature—I could sort these little bits of art I’d collected.