“Yes,” he replied, biting his lip and feeling helpless.

“I have to go soon, but will you do me a favor?” she asked. “Hold the phone up so I can hear the ocean. It’s been so long since I’ve been back . . . I want to close my eyes and imagine I’m there with you.”

Rio scrambled to his feet. This was something he could do. “Hold on!”

He headed to the shoreline, as far as he could go without losing signal, where the sound of the crashing, roaring ocean filled the air like a crack of thunder.

“CAN YOU HEAR IT?”

There was a tiny pause. Rio held the phone up closer to the waves. In and out they pushed. In and out.

“I can,” she murmured. “Oh, I can’t tell you how happy that sound makes me.”

When he put the phone back to his ear, Rio could have sworn he heard her smiling. Then she yawned loudly.

“Mum?” He gripped the phone tighter. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Not yet.

“Yes, Rio-cat?”

“Y-y-you are going to get better, aren’t you?”

She let out a long, deep sigh. Not a nice, content sigh, but the other kind. Then she said she had to go. Rio stared hard at the ocean, where he could see a huge cruise ship far out to sea, sailing farther and farther away from him.

“Goodbye,” he whispered.

He sat there for the longest of times, until the back door opened and the smell of waffles, warm pancakes, and fried eggs wafted out.

“Breakfast is ready!” called Fran.

But Rio didn’t move. There was no way he could eat anything now. Instead, he curled his knees into his chest and wished with all his heart that he could hear his mom smile once more.

5

Box of Joy

Despite the warm Californian sun, over the next couple of days, Rio hung out mostly in his bedroom. Fran offered to show him around Ocean Bay more than once, but each time he found an excuse not to go. Maybe this way, she would finally get the message.

He had even started marking off the days on a makeshift calendar he had created. Another day gone. One more day closer to talking to his mother again. Another day closer to going home.

But in spite of this, the time still dragged. Nights were the worst. He would wake up with a clawing feeling in his belly that, no matter how much he tossed and turned, never seemed to go away. Sometimes so ferocious he couldn’t breathe.

Come Thursday, Rio was standing in his mom’s footprints, trying desperately to conjure her up through the floorboards, when there was a rap on his door.

“Knock, knock!” Fran called out. Why she had to say the words rather than just knock, he had no idea. It was just another one of her annoying habits.

“Come in!” he yelled.