“What happened to ‘till death do us part’?” he asks. “Idris can’t promise you that, not with all the people waiting on his doorstep. He can’t give you—”

“If this is turning into some weird sex talk, please leave me out of it,” I say, twirling an earbud around my finger. “It’s not necessary for me to hear anything more than I already do.”

Dad’s face reddens a little bit, but Pops just waves a hand.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he says, scoffing. “It’s perfectly normal for your parents to love each other.”

I roll my eyes as he pulls into the hospital’s gigantic parking lot.

“Come on, you two,” Dad says, sliding out of the front seat. “Let’s grace the lovely Dr. Khan with our presence.”

We walk into the hospital like we own the place—and honestly, we sort of do.

The Infectious Disease Clinic (ID for short) is on the main floor, behind a gray door plastered with smiley-face stickers. It makes me smile; it’s like looking at the posters I used to keep on the walls of my bedroom.

“Simone!” Auntie Jackie calls from the front desk. “It’s barely been a month, and you already look like you grown. Stop getting so big!”

Auntie Jackie is loud and small and perfect. When I was little, she’d give me candy like M&M’s or Mike and Ikes to help me practice taking my meds, and she told Pops that I should leave my hair in braids when I went to school. She sends me cards on my birthdays, came to my eighth-grade graduation, and she’s always the nurse to take my blood. I started calling her my aunt when I was six.

“Simone’s still a baby,” Pops says, giving her a quick hug. “Even if she does think that she’s too grown for our house. Don’t go giving her any ideas.”

“How have you boys been?” Auntie Jackie sneaks a hand around Dad’s neck as she leads us toward the examination rooms. “Doing good?”

“They’ve been talking about college,” I say, stretching the word out. We pass Nurse Patty in another kid’s room, and wave at her. “I don’t know why they would ever want to get rid of me, since I’m obviously the best.”

Pops just scoffs, while Dad rubs my shoulder.

“Education is a blessing, Miss Simone,” Auntie Jackie says, casting a glance at me. “I’m sure that a little time on your own would toughen you up.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I always say exactly what I mean.”

We reach the examination room and I hop on the table, swinging my legs like I’m five again. The walls are decorated with stickers of superheroes and Barbie dolls. I’m probably too old to be coming to the pediatric section, but whatever. I wouldn’t want to go anywhere else.