I fill a plastic cup at the tap and hand it to her before sitting in the bedside chair. She takes a sip, gives another exhale, and gives the cup to me.

“Thanks,” she says.

I hold her cup in both hands and lean back in the chair. “Anytime.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

My favorite picture from the trip is one someone else took. Ellie took it the night we were at the hospital. In the picture, my arms are draped across Ruth’s legs. We each have an earbud in one ear. We must have fallen asleep listening to Pink Floyd or Philip Glass. The light from the lamp illuminates half of each of our faces. Running between the fingers of my right hand is a tube from Ruth’s IV.

I called it Treasure Hunters.

Mom and Dad spent a good long time talking with Ruth in the hospital. And then in the hotel where we rested and slept and watched The Twilight Zone for a few days. Ruth took long, restful naps, ate spoonfuls of peanut butter and handfuls of popcorn while we watched TV, and even had a couple phone calls with her therapist.

Ellie and Eddie went between checking in on us, driving around southern California in the RV, and sneaking extra time at the beach. Ellie said that when we get home, we’ll have a party with lots of treats and I can put on a slideshow of my best pictures. I showed them the picture I took of Ned the sea turtle, and every time they came to visit at the hotel, they brought me a new sea turtle figurine or key chain or necklace. I’m super excited about the new turtle collection that will definitely take the spot on the top of my dresser once we get home.

During our hotel R&R days, Mom bought these big one-hundred-milliliter water bottles and boxes of Crystal Light mix and Dad ordered up a big platter of shrimp cocktail, Ruth’s favorite. She ate half the platter all on her own and Mom watched her and was smiling at her the whole time.

I also got to order up French toast from room service. My favorite. In the middle of our Twilight Zone marathon, we rented Babe, and Ruth even smiled at the singing mice.

That first night in the hospital, when Mom and Dad arrived just before the sun was about to wake up, they talked to the nurse and the doctor and Ruth and made sure she was okay. Then they both wrapped me in a hug sandwich and asked me if I was okay. I knew if I ever needed anything, if I ever wasn’t okay, they would keep me wrapped up like that until I felt better. Right then, though, I hugged them back and told them yes, I was okay. It was the truth.

And now we’re all diving pirate ships.