He looked at me. “My grandparents’ names. They should be in the roots, because they’re part of my family too.”

“That’s a really smart idea,” I said. “I like it.”

“Yeah,” he said a bit wistfully.

“Do you see them a lot?” I asked, adding, “Your grandparents, I mean.”

“Not really.” He shrugged. “My mom’s parents are in Israel with my other uncle. They send really nice packages of stuff for my birthday and visit sometimes, but I don’t know them that well. They invited me to move in with them,” he added, “but I didn’t want to go that far away. Plus, Uncle Jared’s here.”

“What about your other grandparents?” I asked. “Your dad’s parents?”

“They’re older and live in a retirement home now. When I was a lot younger, they used to take me to the fair. My grandpa and I would share a big plate of funnel cake and then we’d go on the rides. One time I barfed up the funnel cake after we went on the teacups. All over my grandma’s shoes.”

“Oren!”

“I know.” He laughed. “My grandmother stillcomplains about how she had to throw those shoes out because she couldn’t get the greasy barf off them.”

“So gross!”

“I visit them sometimes. But not very much since…” His voice trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish his sentence.

Dropping my eyes, I smoothed a strip of paper between my fingers as the silence stretched between us.

“Anyway,” he finally said. “I like my uncle. He’s trying really hard. And yesterday made it…better. It’s just…” He sighed.

“He’s not your parents,” I said.

He nodded.

“I get it,” I said. “But he loves you. He really wants to be a good uncle for you.”

“I know,” he said. “Last night after dinner he showed me pictures of him and my mom and my other uncle from when they were kids. It was weird, but also kind of nice. It helped me remember her from before the…from before.”

I smiled as I finished up the leaf I was working on.

“He still wants me to do to therapy,” Oren said several minutes later as he arranged a few more piles of strips for the roots.

“Would it be so terrible?” I asked honestly. I’ve never been to therapy, but I know that a lot of people who lose loved ones go. My parents even keep brochures for grief counseling in a holder in their office in case anyone wants them. “My mom always says it’s a good way to sort out your feelings. It’s just talking. She was going to be a therapist before she worked next door. It’s just normal people talking about normal things.”

He shook his head. “I think it would be terrible. I just…I don’t know. I think it would make things worse. I don’t want to talk about it.”

I wasn’t sure if he meant he didn’t want to talk about going to therapy or he didn’t want to go to therapy to talk about his parents. Whatever he meant, I didn’t want to push him, so I left it at that.