“I thought this was your birthday present we were shopping for,” Mom murmured as we both watched Nova bouncing excitedly from one set of clothes to the next, trying to decide which outfit my bear needed.

“This is for my birthday. Making Nova happy like this is the best present I could ever have.”

Mom stroked the backs of her fingers down my cheek. “We really can’t keep her, but I wish we could. I love how happy she makes you. I haven’t ever seen you smile so much, l’venok. And seeing this smile is what I live for.”

“I know we can’t keep her. Yet.”

“Yet?” she repeated, her brow scrunching up.

“When she’s old enough, I’ll marry her,” I explained. “And then we can keep her forever.”

Her mouth turned down disapprovingly. “Ryan, you don’t marry someone just to keep them. You marry them because you love them and can’t live without them.”

“Exactly,” I agreed with a nod.

She let out a heavy sigh. “I can see we need to have an in-depth conversation later, my little lion. But for now, go have fun. Soak up the time you have left with your friend.”

7

Ryan

Ryan Age 10 : Nova Age 4

Picking up the consent form from my desk, I went into Mom’s room. I’d forgotten to have her sign it the night before when I’d gotten home from practice. She’d already been in bed and Dad said she wasn’t feeling well, so I hadn’t wanted to bother her. He’d been on his way out the door for a business trip to Chicago, so I hadn’t wanted to make him late by telling him what the consent form was about. It was just for a field trip to some museum in the city, and I wasn’t even sure I really wanted to go. I’d been there a few times already with my cousins, and it had been boring.

Knocking on my parents’ bedroom door that was slightly ajar, I waited for Mom to say I could come in. But instead, I heard the sound of someone throwing up and groaning like they were in pain. Dropping the piece of paper, I took off running in the direction of the sound. The light in the bedroom was off, but the one in the bathroom was bright and glaring down on Mom as she sat on her knees in front of the toilet, vomiting repeatedly.

Thinking quickly, I found a washcloth and dampened it with cold water. Once I’d wrung out the extra water, I placed it on the back of her neck like she did for me when I was sick, and I started rubbing her back. It took a few minutes before she was able to stop dry heaving, and then she dropped back, wiping at her sweaty brow.

“What should I do?” I asked her, wondering if I should call Dad or run and get Zia Scarlett.

Taking the washcloth from her neck, she wiped her face with it and gave me a weak smile. “Nothing, l’venok. I’m fine.”