Jon offered to stay home from school, but she didn’t want him to miss classes, so at 7:30 he rode his bike the two miles to Climping Academy. He was a husky kid, short for his age, and fifty pounds overweight. That fact, and the braces on his teeth, didn’t contribute much in the way of good looks. He’d overheard his father make a remark about his turning into a swan—“Please, God,” was the way he’d put it. Jon missed the first part of the sentence, but it didn’t take much to figure out his dad thought he was an ugly duckling. It was the first time Jon had been jolted into the awareness that others had opinions about him, some of which were unkind. His mother had promised him a growth spurt when he reached puberty, but so far there was no sign of it. His dad bought him the bicycle to encourage outdoor activities. Jon far preferred having his mother drive him to school, which she did when she was well.

At 3:30 that day, he bicycled home and found the house exactly as he’d left it. He was surprised she wasn’t up and waiting for him. Usually, even when his mother was sick, she managed to be showered and dressed by midafternoon when school let out. He’d find her sitting in the kitchen, smoking a cigarette, making at least a pretense of being normal. Sometimes she even baked him a cake from a mix. Now the rooms felt cold and dark, even though interior lights were on and he could hear the low wind of the forced-air furnace at work.

He knocked on the bedroom door and then opened it. “Mom?”

Her coughing by then was loose and wet and thick. She motioned him into the room while she patted herself on the chest and put a tissue to her mouth, depositing a wad of something.

Jon stood in the doorway watching her. “Shouldn’t you call the doctor?”

She waved the suggestion aside, wracked by another bout of coughing that left her sweating and limp. “I’ve got some pills left from last time. See if you can find them in the medicine cabinet. And bring me a glass of water, if you would.”

He did as she asked. There were four bottles of prescription medication. He brought all of them to her bedside and let her choose what she thought was best. She took two pills with water and then lay back against the pillows, which she’d stacked almost upright to help her breathe.

He said, “Did you eat lunch?”

“Not yet. I’ll get something in a bit.”

“I can fix you a grilled cheese sandwich the way you showed me.”