“I haven’t ever met him.”

She gave no sign of surprise and asked no more questions. “I’m sticking my nose in everybody’s business this morning,” she said, looking pleased.

“I could pretty much tell you were feeling better.” Ben said, his eyes luminous, the blue burning. They sat in quiet with each other. She brushed her fingers across the top of his hand. Ronny left them alone to talk and quietly continued with work in the kitchen. He had never heard Ben talk so much to anyone else: the doctors, the sickness, school, the summer, Dad, Nina, the hospital again, chemotherapy, the quiet embarrassment of it, being ill. Overheard as Ronny moved through the periphery, among the laundry and the trash. Ben resting his head and arm on the edge of the bed, Mrs. Nickelsen lying back in her pillows, murmuring something about the grass that needed cutting.

When she saw Ronny in the doorway to the kitchen, she said, “He won’t tell you this, Ronny, but he’s never had a friend he could talk to like he can you. He told me that. And I’m telling you right in front of him so you’ll know.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“This chemotherapy has loosened up my brain,” she said. “I feel like I can say anything. Even to your dad.”

“You need to take charge then,” Ben said, “and make sure everybody takes better care of you. I would have cleaned the house if I knew it would make you feel that much better.”

“Ben, son, let me tell you something. When you’re sick you don’t even hardly know to ask.”

Ronny went upstairs to shower and dress. The first thing he did after was to change the sheets on Ben’s bed. He took the dirty linens down to the laundry room, emptied the dishwasher and loaded the last of the backlog, then went upstairs to clean the bathroom. He was scrubbing the tile in the shower stall when he heard steps at the door and a young woman stuck her head in. She had dark, shining hair, cut short, just below her ears. Her skin was milky pale and bright, touched with three small moles on one cheek. She looked at Ronny in laconic surprise and he said, “Are you Nina? I’m Ben’s friend Ronny.”

“Oh, that’s right,” she said, in a kind of dreamy way. She had a dusky voice and spoke so slowly that it was almost affected. “I just came to sneak in my bag before I saw Ma. Was the place a mess?”

“It wasn’t that bad but it was driving your mom crazy.”

She rolled her eyes. “No shit. Miss Clean Freak herself. You need help?”

“I’m almost done.”

Her expression soured and she looked at Ronny askance. Likely she was thinking about her mother. Cleaning supplies arranged on the floor beside him, the tub smelling of Comet cleanser, the toilet bowl bright. “You sure you’re one of Ben’s friends? I mean, you speak English and you clean bathrooms. The last friend Ben brought home would have been shitting in the corner.” She shook her head. “Okay, I’ll put this in my room.”