“I’ll get them for her. I brought you a magazine.”

“Thanks.”

“What are the doctors saying? How much longer?”

“Just a few more days. They want to monitor me to make sure everything’s stable. I’ll get out of here soon.”

“Thank goodness it was nothing more serious. I can’t believe it happened while you were driving. You were lucky not to have hit anyone.”

“Yeah. Lucky.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of things.” She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. He turned away, occupying himself with the cracked remote control.

Halfway down the hall she remembered that she had forgotten her gum. She walked back to his room and stood outside the door for a minute while she adjusted her skirt. And then she heard talking.

“Hi, Ma. I know you miss me. It will be okay. I promise I won’t leave you.”

The loyalty in his voice pushed at her chest and she hated herself for the tears that came. She thought about how different Tim was than the others. The words he was speaking to his mother rang in her ears, a picture of her own father slowly appearing like an image from an old Polaroid before her eyes.

Her hand was still on the doorknob, but she never went back into the room. Instead, she walked away, leaving her Big Red and her doubts behind.

Matilda

Sometimes my feelings fly around inside of me and I can’t catch them. Other times, they find me when I am not looking. My stomach sinks and the space where it once was fills up and it feels like my insides will come shooting out of my mouth. Those are the times I hate to be alone.

Lavi and I were in the habit of buying french fries at McDonalds and bringing them home to eat after school. We sat in her kitchen on stools, hooking our feet around the legs and pouring salt into piles on small paper plates. Lavi liked the crunchy ones and I liked the soft, mushy ones, so most times we would just buy a large and share. She was lost in thought, using the tip of her fry to draw a heart in her salt pile. “My dad hates ketchup.”

I looked up, surprised. It was the first time she had ever mentioned her father.

I found a soft one and dragged it through the ketchup, watching as it folded under the weight of the thick red sauce. She was quiet for a few minutes. “He comes back and forth. A lot.”

I nodded, concentrating on a fry that was perfectly browned on the outside, but still soft on the inside. I had assumed that Lavi’s father, like mine, was permanently out of her life.

“What about your dad?”

That was an easy question to answer. I didn’t even need to think. “Nothing. I know nothing.”