“Then we better be going to Taipei, because we’re going to have to go that far before I’ll be hungry again.”

“Taipei? Where’s that?”

“Taiwan.”

“Charlie, Taiwan is very far away.”

“Why do you keep saying my name?”

“What?”

“You start every sentence with my name. Why are you doing that?”

“Charlie . . . ,” Grandma Rose said, stopping as she heard her own voice. She sighed. “Come with me.”

They drove to Bob’s Famous Ice Cream, a small parlor in the Glover Park neighborhood. They walked in and were warmly greeted by a man behind the counter. Minutes later, Charlie found himself staring at a chocolate sundae as big as his head. He plunged in his spoon, wondering how on earth he could eat the whole thing. He would at least have to give it a try.

“Charlie, do you know why I’m in town?” Grandma Rose asked.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Ch—” She started over. “I’m in town because I’m going to be staying with you for a while.”

“Are you sick?” he asked, steadily working his way through the baseball-sized glob of ice cream stuck to his spoon.

“No.”

“My friend Derrick’s grandma came to stay with him after she got sick with cancer. She died last Christmas.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I don’t have cancer,” she said. “I’m coming to stay with you because your mother is going through a hard time.”

He was horrified. “Does my mom have cancer?” he asked around a mouthful.

“No.”

“Does she have Marfan syndrome?”

“Marwhat?”

“Marfan syndrome,” he said. “I saw it on PBS.”

“Your mom isn’t sick,” she said. “But she is really sad.”

That bite of ice cream hit his stomach like a boxer. Grandma Rose was acting strange, and it made him feel nervous, more nervous than the time he had to play piano in front of the whole school. “What’s she sad about?”

“Your father.”

“You mean Dad ?” He didn’t understand what she meant. What was there to be sad about? He always brought home gifts. He always told the funniest jokes and had the most amazing stories about his travels around the world. Dad was amazing. Charlie didn’t know why, but he felt like he was going to cry.

Grandma Rose scooted her chair around the table and put her arm around him. “Before I say anything else, I want you to understand that this isn’t your fault.”

He stabbed his spoon into his half-empty bowl and rubbed his watering eyes with the palms of his hands. He knew what Grandma Rose was going to say next. He’d talked to enough friends at school to know what it’s not your fault meant. He pulled out his inhaler and gave his mouth a shot, breathing in deeply. “Mom and Dad are getting a divorce, aren’t they?”