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  “Well, it’s late, mom, so I’m going to head out. I just wanted to check in.”

  April nodded understandingly. “Of course, my MVP. You must be worn out.” Her mother looked more worn out than three days of softball could ever affect Amanda, but she was grateful for the easy out.

  “Good night, mom.” April nodded briefly, never one very comfortable with pleasantries, and rolled over to go to sleep.

  Amanda slipped back into the hallway and surveyed the rooms in that wing. As usual, most rooms were empty. The single nurse at the nurses’ station was charting with her back turned. Amanda edged into the room two doors down from her mom’s and went straight into the bathroom to clean up. She lingered in the shower, feeling the grit of the field wash away. Finally she dried off with a towel hanging on a hook and pulled on shorts and a t-shirt. Amanda had slept at the hospital all week, in whatever room was closest. She feared someone would figure out she was the one messing up rooms, but so far she had gotten away with it.

  Overwhelming exhaustion kicked in, and Amanda gracefully made her way across the dark room to crawl into the hospital bed. But when she grabbed the sheet, she jumped and yelped as she touched an arm.

  “I was hoping you were going to climb on in.” The body in the bed belonged to a younger guy with a scratchy voice who sounded like he was ready to laugh.

  “Holy shit! I’m so sorry.” Amanda backed away, mortified, as the guy chuckled.

  “Seriously, there’s room.” He reached over and turned on a light. He looked to be about twenty with short dark curly hair, dark eyes, and the kind of face that was always smiling. Amanda continued to back away. “You don’t have to leave. I never sleep in the hospital. You wanna watch TV?” He picked up the remote and started flipping through channels.

  “I’ll find another room,” she said softly. She looked him over quickly for clues as to possible reasons why he was there. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

  “Is that woman down the hall your mom?” he asked kindly, sitting up a bit more and adjusting his pillow.“ I talked to her for a minute when we were both doing laps.”

  “Um, yeah. She’s probably never going home.” Her face turned red as she blurted out that bit of personal information.

  He nodded with understanding. “Cancer, right?” He motioned to his hair. “Me too. Sucks doesn’t it?”

  Something about his concern felt genuine, and she felt drawn to talk to him. “Yeah. It’s been really rough. She was admitted last weekend for a bowel obstruction, but they can’t fix it so they’ll be moving her to hospice when she’s more stable.” More personal disclosure to a perfect stranger.

  “Sorry. That’s rough.” He motioned for her to sit, and to her surprise she did. “I had, or have leukemia. I actually had a stem-cell transplant eight months ago, and I’ve been doing great. But then I got the stomach flu and everybody flipped out, so I gave in and got admitted for the night for IV fluids. It was easier than dealing with my mom following me around asking me about my bowel movements.”

  Amanda laughed. “You really do have to talk a lot about your bodily functions when you have cancer.” Amanda cringed and wished she wouldn’t have used the “C word,” but he didn’t seem to mind. He was easy and comfortable to talk to, and he was cute despite the pallor of the stomach flu.

  “I’m Jake, by the way. Jacob Mann.” He held out his hand to shake hers, but the IV tube in his arm pulled tight and he couldn’t reach.

  Amanda reached out and shook his hand. “I’m Amanda. Happy to meet you.”

  Jacob and Amanda stayed up talking most of the night. He talked a little about chemo treatments, and they compared doctor stories. Jake had been going to the Mayo Clinic and said he had great doctors with not so great bedside manners. Amanda wondered if her mom’s doctors really knew what they were doing, but the nurses had been amazing. Eventually they talked more about music and TV shows they liked, and they found commonalities in the housebound lives they led.

  By 3:00 a.m. Jacob started to look groggy, but he seemed to be forcing himself to stay awake. Amanda was flattered but felt guilty, and knew that he was there to rest and recuperate.

  “So, I’m going to get going,” she said nervously.

  “Where? You can’t drive home now.” His concern was apparent, unfamiliar, and made her heart flutter.

  “Just down the hall,” she said with a shrug. “Either they don’t know or they don’t care because I’ve been staying here all week.”

  Jake smiled at her a little sadly. “Oh, okay. Goodnight.”

  How could one word make her feel so good? She headed toward the door and gave a silly little wave. “Goodnight.”

  * * *

  After their first meeting, Amanda didn’t know how she was going to see Jake, she only knew she wanted to see him again. She passed by his room early the following afternoon while her mom was getting help with a bath, but his room was empty. Saturdays were often terribly long at the hospital, especially when Amanda’s mom wasn’t feeling well. The meds seemed to be kicking in, and she finally looked more comfortable. The doctor said that as soon as they got her IV out she could move to the hospice unit where at least the rooms were bigger and a little more home-like.

  The two nurses on duty until shift change at three o’ clock were bitchy, so Amanda went to the balcony to sit outside for a few minutes. She found Jake there, lying on a lounge chair with his shirt off, apparently trying to get a suntan.

  “The glare off your white skin is blinding,” Amanda said throwing him his t-shirt slung on the railing. “I think you better cover up.” Amanda was trying to sound funny and casual, but she was afraid it came out mean.

  “Hey, it’s my night stalker,” Jake said, throwing his shirt on the floor of the balcony. She noticed his IV was out, but the line was still in his left wrist surrounded by tape and velcro. His chest was pale and hairless, and she could see scars from needles and IV’s around his collar bone area and on both arms. He noticed her noticing his scars. “You should try to be a little more casual when you’re checking someone out. My mom always said it’s not nice to stare.”

  “Oh, man, I’m sorry,” Amanda said feeling a flush race up to her cheeks and looked away. “I … uh … wasn’t looking at …”

  “Don’t freak out. I’m used to people looking at me from when I didn’t have hair and looked like a zombie. Someday I hope I’ll be checked out for my rippling pecs instead of my shiny red scars.” Jake put his shirt back on.

  Amanda didn’t want him to know that she was checking out more than his scars, but it was less embarrassing to let him think she was looking at his lines and radiation tattoos and burns. “I should know by now to look you in the face and make small talk about the weather so you feel like a normal person, and not someone with a disease.” She leaned her elbows back on the railing and looked back down at him. “Or at least that’s what the cancer brochures tell me to say to you.”

  “I’ll have you know I’m someone who used to have a disease who now has a slight case of diarrhea that requires a team of doctors to make sure I’ll pull through,” Jake said. He squinted up at Amanda and shielded his eyes from the sun almost directly overhead. “How’s the day going?”

  “Eh—” Amanda tipped her hand side to side to show him it was a “so so” day.

  “I’m going home this afternoon,” Jake smiled a weary smile. “If I had a nickel for every time I checked out of the hospital thinking it was my last, I’d have at least a quarter by now.”

  “Good for you,” Amanda said. “But I’m sure it’s real because you won’t be back.”

  “I dig your optimism. My mom would have to give you a hug just for saying it.” Jake stood next to her at the railing, leaned forward, and ran his fingers through his hair. His hair was dark brown, coarse, and wavy—most likely because it was growing back after chemo. “So what’s next for you?”

  Amanda knew that he was asking what she was going to do with herself now that her mom had stopped t
reatment and was officially dying. Amanda didn’t have a clue how to answer. She had learned not to plan too far in advance because life revolved around how her mom was feeling from moment to moment. Her focus had gone from college applications, to softball, to graduation, to the state tournament. As her high school career had ended, her adult life abruptly began with the knowledge that she needed to prepare for her mother’s death.

  “There’s actually not much for me to do. My mom wrote her will a long time ago, which was a joke because I’m the only heir, and there’s nothing to get. My mom’s family had a house fire when she was in high school, and they lost everything, so she’s never been big into having ‘stuff’ because it’s just something to lose someday. She knows what she wants for her funeral, she’s arranged her own cremation, which is just sick if you ask me, and the doctor said this morning that she’s ready to go to hospice as she asked for instead of going home to die. I don’t think there’s much I have to do until after.”

  Jake just nodded in reply. Amanda didn’t know if talking about death bothered him. He seemed quiet.

  “So I guess other than registering for classes during one weekend in July, I’ll be here all summer.” Amanda’s stomach felt hollow at the thought of spending the summer at the hospital. “I suppose I should get a job,” she thought out loud.

  A woman with short brown hair like Jake’s came out to the balcony holding a bunch of helium filled balloons that included a mylar Bozo the clown balloon. She was barely five feet tall so she was nearly covered up by the balloons. She had permanent, deep laugh lines around her eyes and a wide, toothy smile. She was deeply tanned already, and she looked like a bundle of energy. Reaching up to grab Jake’s face, she gave him a kiss on each cheek.

  “I was looking for you, Jacob,” she said, wiping her lipstick off each cheek with a dab of spit on her thumb. “Once you get the nurse to take out that line, you’re okay’d to go home.” She turned to Amanda. “Is this your friend from last night?”

  Amanda’s mouth dropped open at the question, and she couldn’t believe that he told his mother about her already.

  “Mom, this is Amanda”

  “Nice to meet you, sweetie,” she said, dropping the balloons with their clown paperweight and shaking Amanda’s hand with both of hers. “I’m Trix Mann.” Then she turned to Jake. “Have you invited her to supper?” Trix still hadn’t let go of Amanda’s hands.

  “I was getting to it, mom …”

  “Well, hurry up and invite her. I’m making pork tenderloin and it’s a big one.” She squeezed Amanda’s hands before she let them go, grabbed the balloons and started for the door. “I’ll get your bag and meet you at the car. See you tonight, Amanda. It was nice meeting you.”

  Amanda raised her eyebrows and grinned at Jake.

  “I guess you heard that you’re invited for dinner,” Jake said, sheepish and pleased at the same time. “My mom has always made a big welcome home dinner every time I get out of the hospital, which is actually sad that we have to have a coming home from the hospital tradition.”

  “Your mom doesn’t even know me, and neither do you, really, for that matter. Why would you invite me for dinner?” Amanda knew that sounded bitchy, but her skeptical, dark side had kicked in and spoke up before she could stop it.

  “If you want to know the truth, my mom tends to fall over all of my friends.” He rubbed his palms along the wooden railing. “Her biggest fear when I got sick was that I would lose friends and miss out on things. She has to help me along by inviting people over, and then she set up this amazing room in our basement with a big screen TV, DVD player, pool table, full bar, pinball … you name it. She wanted to make sure that people would want to spend time with me even if I couldn’t really go places.” He suddenly jumped. “Yeow! Sliver. Jeez don’t let my mom see that either. She’s got a thing with blood. You know … leukemia …”

  Amanda knew what he meant about the blood. “Anyway, your mom seems so great,” she said.

  “She is. I have to let her do all this stuff even though I’m twenty-years old because it helps her cope.” He squinted at his palm and pulled the sliver out quickly, rubbing away the dot of blood that appeared.

  Spending an evening with her and Jake sounded wonderful, but Amanda couldn’t imagine how she could get out of having dinner with her mom on a Saturday night. “I’d really love to have your mom’s dinner, but I can’t leave my mom alone here.” She sighed.

  “I can’t imagine that your mom wants you to hang out in a depressing hospital with her when you could have a nice dinner out. She’s your mom. You know she’ll tell you to go.”

  Amanda looked down and pushed away the tears that threatened. If you grew up with a real mom who was capable of thinking about someone other than herself, then you would assume that all moms were that way. It was too humiliating to try to explain that her mom would want nothing more than to see her daughter sit in a depressing hospital on a Saturday night to keep her company. Amanda had begun to see that it wasn’t out of selfishness as much as a true inability to think about anyone other than herself. Amanda barely held it against her anymore, but the thought of losing a nice evening with Jake and his family brought her mother’s attitude suddenly into sharp focus. Guilt, anger, and frustration merged, and she had to clench her jaw hard to keep from crying. Long ago Amanda had stopped allowing herself that kind of emotion, and today with this stranger she was surprised that tears were threatening. Amanda hadn’t cried since she was ten years old.

  Amanda just shook her head at Jake, unable to speak. She felt that somehow he understood that her silence was about more than her mom being sick, but about a loneliness that started well before the first diagnosis.

  “How about this, have dinner with your mom but just tell her you’re feeling a little sick so you’re not going to eat much. Then you can beg off around 7:30 or 8:00 and we’ll wait to eat until then.” He smiled at her, satisfied he had solved the problem.

  “You can’t hold your dinner for me, and I’m not going to lie to her, and I just …”

  “Quit being a martyr. You need to get away from this place, and she’ll have nurses here all night to help her if she needs it. It’s not your job to babysit her.” He crossed his arms and stared hard at her. “Okay?”

  Amanda shook her head and looked down at her shoes. “It’s not that I have to babysit her. Other than school, I’ve just never had anywhere else to go. Our trailer is just a place to take a shower because I can’t stand being there. It’s just not home. This hospital is the closest …” Her throat felt tight again.

  “Amanda, calling this place home is so sad I can hardly stand it,” Jake said, standing up and wrapping his arms around her in a gesture way more intimate than their eighteen-hour friendship allowed, but he felt so nice she didn’t mind. He smelled like hospital soap, but in a good way. She laughed and let herself relax a little.

  “I know,” she said, with a big shuddery sigh. But she was also smiling.

  “You’re coming.”

  * * *

  Amanda stood outside the door, trying to figure out what to say. Jake and his mother lived in a split-level house with a tuck-under garage that was probably built in 1972. It looked like it could be any house on any street in any town. There were little wire flags all over the yard indicating the lawn had just been sprayed with fertilizer. Amanda wondered if he played football in this yard and rode his bike on this sidewalk and played basketball in this driveway. It was hard not to resent how normal he was. There was the issue of his cancer, so it wasn’t quite fair to call his childhood “normal.” It was just that he had all the things Amanda had craved.

  Before she could knock, Jake opened the door.

  “Was I supposed to sense your presence or was it in your plans to knock eventually?”

  Once again Amanda didn’t know what to say.

  “Don’t look all awkward. Just come in and relax.” Jake stepped aside and motioned her into the entryway. He took her sweatshirt
while she tried to take in the surroundings. Upstairs the dining room and living area were furnished with comfortable but nice furniture. She could smell dinner cooking and hear kitchen sounds coming from upstairs toward the back of the house.

  “Hi, sweetie,” Trix yelled down. “Show her the basement, Jacob.” He rolled his eyes at Amanda.

  “I will, Mom. I was planning on it.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Mann,” Amanda said softly.

  Trix came out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Oh, good lord, sweetie. Call me Trix. I’m so glad you’re here! Did you find the place okay?”

  The town was not that big, and she had lived there all her life, so of course she knew how to find their house. “I drove right to it,” she said. “I used to have soccer games down the street at Miller Park.”

  “Of course you did, sweetie. Jake told me you’re an athlete.” She smiled and threw her towel over her shoulder. “Make yourself at home. We’ll eat in about twenty minutes.”

  Jake gave her the grand tour. The basement was fixed up to be an adolescent boy’s paradise. A flat-screen TV took up one whole wall, surrounded by gadgets and machines including a DVD player, Nintendo X Box, and Internet service through the TV. There was pool, foos ball, and an actual pinball machine with Elvis on it. In one corner there was a bar with a working soda machine, and Jake pointed out that there was a tap for a keg that they filled only on special occasions. Beer lights, sports posters, and girl calendars covered the walls. Jake said it was a little weird to think of his mom decorating the room with girls in bikinis.