After ten minutes, the helicopter became sluggish, and Dad said it was time to put it away.
“Oh, man,” Nate whined. He was just starting to have fun.
“Sorry, sport. We’ll do it again next time.”
“Promise?”
“You bet.”
“Okay.” Nate crouched and scratched Major behind the ears. “Dad? Am I going to die again?”
Dad picked up the helicopter and put the controller in the pocket of his denim jacket. He nodded.
“When?”
“Soon.”
“Like in ten minutes?”
“Longer than that.”
“Twenty minutes?”
“Maybe thirty minutes.”
That wasn’t very much time at all. Nate couldn’t understand how he had to die again so soon. He didn’t feel sick at all. He was burning up with energy. He could run and run.
“Why didn’t the medicine work last time?”
“We thought we didn’t give you enough. We were going to give you a lot more. By the time we were ready to wake you up again, the nurse called and said somebody else tried that, and it didn’t work. You’d get more time, but after a while, well, you know.”
Nate nodded. He liked when his dad talked to him like he was a grown-up. He had batteries just like the helicopter. They wore out over time. Medicine recharged them.
“Will you get more?” he asked.
“We will.”
“And wake me up again?”
“That’s right.”
“Promise?”
Dad nodded. “You bet.”
“I don’t want to sleep forever, Dad. I don’t want to be dead.”
“It’s not going to happen.”
“I don’t even dream. There’s just nothing.”
“I’m going to take care of it.”
Nate believed it. He started running.
“Where are you going?” Dad called after him.
“The playground!”
“We have to put this back in the car first.”
“Can you do it, Dad? Please?”
He only had a half hour, and he knew how fast that would go when he was having fun. He wanted to make every second count. He sprinted through the snow until he reached the monkey bars, his lungs working hard to keep up, and swung from one to the next and back again. He fell on the last rung and hit the ground hard but shrugged off the pain. He ran to the slide and went up and down three times as fast as he could. It wasn’t as fun doing these things by himself; he looked hopefully at the other kids. They invited him into a game of tag, and he played with them until their moms pulled them away one by one to go home, saying they had to do this before they turned into pumpkins. Soon it was just him again. He ran to the swings. Today, he was going to swing higher than ever. Kick the sky right in the face.
Dad took pictures and short videos of everything. Nate saw him glance at his watch.
Nate closed his eyes and felt the pull of gravity move from his legs to his head each time he pulled back and soared into the air on the swing. He had to pee real bad but ignored it. When he opened his eyes, he saw Mom holding Megan in her arms.
Megan wasn’t moving. Mom’s mouth smiled at him, but her eyes were sad.
He was running out of time.
It wasn’t fair. Next time, he swore, he’d just sit there and do nothing so time would go by really slowly.
Nate watched his sister. She just lay there in Mom’s arms. She didn’t look like Megan anymore. She looked like a doll somebody made to look like Megan.
He didn’t push at the ground with his feet anymore. His momentum slowed.
Is that what I look like when I’m dead? The whole time, I’m lying on the bed like that staring at nothing? Lights out, nobody home?
He winced as a headache bloomed behind his eyes. The world smelled like burning toast.
“No,” he said.
I don’t want to be a pumpkin.
He leaped from the swing and sprinted across the open field toward the skating rink where he’d died the first time. Major caught up and bounded grinning next to his legs. Mom and Dad yelled at him to come back. Nate ran harder; he wanted to race.
I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m free—
He made it fifty yards before he fell onto the snow.
Darkness. Then not even darkness. Nothing.
He woke up in his bed at home, screaming while his mom hugged him.
Josh
20 days after Resurrection
He wanted to draw a picture of Heaven from memory.
The idea came to him while he sat on Mommy’s lap in the rocker. Mommy hugged him and stroked his hair. She’d asked him what he wanted to do today.
Mommy was always hugging him lately and wanting to play with him, but he missed being around other kids, especially when it was really cold or rainy outside. They hated staying inside, but he liked it. He liked playing pretend. Putting on funny glasses. When it was nice outside, it was different. The other kids liked to run and show each other what they could do. Josh often got left out because he couldn’t do the same things.
The other kids were never mean to him. They knew he had a condition. They always tried to include him, but he couldn’t keep up. He got tired so easily. So he created LEGO worlds in which he could do anything. He drew pictures of the things he loved and the things that scared him.
“I want to draw a picture of Heaven,” he said.
He’d lost count of how many times he’d gone to sleep, but every time he woke up, he had a clearer vision of it in his head, while everything else in his life continued to blur. Mommy said weeks had gone by since he’d gotten sick, but it didn’t feel like weeks to him. His memory was slipping; he found himself forgetting the simplest things. But whenever he closed his eyes, Heaven was there. It was white for the most part. White and filled with ghosts. The ghosts weren’t scary at all. They didn’t move. They didn’t even know he was there.
He felt Mommy’s body stiffen and knew he’d said the wrong thing.
“It’s not going to be scary,” he added.
Mommy didn’t like scary drawings. Josh believed she was as terrified of monsters as he was. Monsters weren’t real, he knew, but they scared him anyway. That was the secret power monsters had over you. They made you afraid of the unknown. They were the unknown. Even if they never attacked, you knew they might, and that was how they scared you.
Sometimes Mommy scared him too. She never hurt him, and she never screamed at him in a scary voice like she did over the phone at people who wouldn’t give her medicine. But the way she talked and moved all the time—happy on the outside, angry and sad on the inside—made him feel unsafe. He could tell the sadness was real and the happiness put on for his benefit. She would never hurt him, but at the same time, she might, and that was scary.
When she screamed at the people on the phone, it made him think of thunder.
“Why do you want to draw Heaven, Josh?”
He shrugged. He couldn’t put it into words. He just did.
“Maybe we could draw something nice instead,” she told him. “Together.”
Maybe meant for sure, he knew. Nothing was what it was supposed to be anymore. Mommy never smiled with her eyes. She said everything was fine, but he knew it wasn’t. She said everything was going to be okay, but he’d heard her crying in the bathroom.
“Mommy, can I go to Joanie’s today?”
Mommy’s sigh made him cringe. “Why do you want to go to Joanie’s?”
“I want to play with my friends.”
The doorbell rang. Mommy’s arms tightened. He gasped.
“I’ll be right back, little man.”
She went to the door and opened it. Slowly, with effort; she walked like Grammy now. Ross walked in and kissed her on the cheek.
Then he noticed Josh. “Hey, look who’s up and at ’em.”
Josh smiled back. He liked Mommy’s new boyfriend. Ross never confused him or made him feel worried by say
ing one thing while meaning something else. He talked to Josh like he was a grown-up. He didn’t look sick, and he was always calm. Mommy was different around him as well. Like she wasn’t fighting the world.
“I was just asking Josh what he wanted to do today,” said Mommy.
“And what did he say?” Ross asked.
“He wants to go to Joan Cooper’s house. He wants to see his friends.”
“Hey, that actually sounds like a great idea.”
Mommy crossed her arms. “Excuse me?”
“He’s a boy. Boys want to be with their friends.”
“How do you know what children want?”
He smiled. “I was a boy myself at one time, you know.”
“Well, I want to be with my son.”
“Of course you do. I get that. But what about what he wants?”
Mommy glared at him. He raised his hands. “Hey, do what you want. It’s none of my business.”
“It could be.” She waited, but Ross said nothing. “Okay, fine. I’ll call Joan.”
Josh’s heart leaped with hope. He hid behind the corner and listened to Mommy make the arrangements over the phone. Everything looked like it was going his way. Awesome. He ran to put on his coat and boots.
Mommy found him grinning ear to ear at the front door.
During the drive, Josh fidgeted in his car seat. He couldn’t wait to see Nate and Megan and Dillon and Danielle and Joanie again. They liked to play indoor games with him. And Joanie would let him watch TV and draw a picture of Heaven.
“She wanted a pint,” Mommy complained to Ross, who was driving. It was snowing outside the car. The windshield wipers ground back and forth.
“I can’t believe she expected to get paid.”
“She said if she was going to wake her kids up, it was going to be for them to be together as a family, not play with someone else’s kids in their house.”
Ross shook his head. “I’m with you on this. She should have just said yes or no.”
“I don’t have a lot left. I’m asking everyone who gave the first time for a second pint. Even half a pint. Only a few said they’d do it. I put an ad on Craigslist.”
“They actually run ads from parents offering money for, uh, medicine?”
“The going term on the e-commerce sites is ‘baby formula.’ ”
“I see. Any takers?”
“One so far. The prices are going through the roof.”
“I have some money if you need help.”
“I don’t want your money, Ross.”
He said nothing.
“I talked her down to half a pint,” she added. “She’s going to wake up Megan.”
“Good.”
“Can’t you go any faster? Every second counts.”
Blah, blah, blah. It was boring grown-up talk, and Josh tuned them out. He pictured what he would do when he saw Joanie. Hey, look who’s up and at ’em, he’d say, and saunter past to the living room. Just like that. That’d be so cool. He pictured it again and again. Tickled himself with the thrill.
Ross parked the car. Mommy got out and unbuckled his car seat.
“Look who’s up,” he mumbled with a vacant grin.
“Thirty minutes, Josh. That’s when we’ll come get you. No crying at the end, okay?”
“Okay, Mommy.”
“Mommy loves you, Josh. Mommy loves you with her whole heart.”
“I love you too, Mommy.”
She set him down on the snowy road. “Hold my hand.”
“Have fun, Josh,” Ross said from the front seat.
“I will! Bye!”
Joanie opened the door as they approached the house. Josh broke into a run. Joanie crouched and extended her arms just in time for Josh to slam into her for a hug.
“Hey, look at you,” he said. “You’re up!”
His face turned scarlet.
“Great to see you, Josh!” said Joanie.
Mommy handed her a jar of Welch’s grape jelly. “Here’s your medicine.”
“Thank you, Ramona. I’m glad you understand. Things are tight here.”
“How close are you to the end?”
Joanie winced. “Close.”
“What then?”
“I don’t know.”
They stared at each other. Josh fidgeted.
“Then we do whatever it takes,” Mommy said in a quiet voice.
Joanie nodded. “Come on in, Josh. I’ve got to get this into the fridge. Megan’s already up and waiting for you.”
He shucked his coat and hat, kicked his boots against the wall, and ran into the living room. Megan lay on the floor playing with a little pink laptop near the Christmas tree, which he remembered from the last time he was here. The room was messy and smelled funny, but he didn’t care. It still felt like his second home.
“Look who’s up and at ’em!” he cried.
She sat up. “Josh!”
“Where’s Nate and Dillon and Danielle?”
“I don’t know. Sleeping, I guess.”
Joanie entered the room. She walked like Mommy, like just walking was a lot of work.
“What do you guys want to do?”
“I want to play with my laptop,” said Megan.
“Meggie, Josh is here to play with you. You should do something together.”
“That’s okay,” said Josh. “Can I please draw?”
“Of course. And thank you for saying please.”
Megan jumped to her feet. “Can we please have a snack too, please?”
“Wow, what good manners. Josh, you’re a good influence. All right, come to the kitchen table, and I’ll feed you rascals.”
Megan cackled at being called a rascal. “Can I bring my Barbie laptop?”
“Sure.”
Josh and Megan walked into the kitchen smiling and holding hands. He felt happy and loved. He sat in one of the chairs.
Megan’s laptop said in a computer voice: “Let’s play a game.”
“Okay,” she said, and giggled.
Josh laughed along and started drawing with his pencil. Usually, he drew with slashes and large strokes, but he took his time to produce as fine a level of detail as he could manage. He wanted Heaven to be perfect. Just the way he saw it.
Joanie put a plate of Ritz crackers and two small plastic cups filled with juice in front of them. The kids crammed the food into their mouths.
Josh was hungry all the time. He wanted to eat everything. He wanted to eat paper. He wanted to eat Megan.
“What are you drawing?” Joanie asked him, breaking the thought.
Josh shrugged. He felt jittery. If he told her, he might get into trouble.
She gave his work a quick inspection. “It’s interesting.”
Just like a grown-up, saying one thing and meaning another.
“Rascals,” Megan said, and laughed.
Josh reached for his glass of juice and knocked it over.
“Damn it!” Joanie snarled.
He whimpered while Megan looked on with wide eyes.
“I’m sorry I yelled, Josh,” Joanie said as she hurried to the sink for a towel. She dropped it onto the table and wiped up the spill. “It’s not your fault. Kids spill things. It happens. Joanie is just really, really tired.”
He nodded, afraid to call any more attention to himself.
“It’s just that juice is really hard to get right now,” she muttered. “If you can find it at the store, it’s very expensive. Like everything else.”
Josh nodded again but otherwise remained frozen. He was convinced all grown-ups were monsters. They always had been. They’d hidden it, but the world had changed; now they were showing their true selves.
He stared at her exposed neck while she wiped and studied the path of a vein. He wanted to kiss it.
Joanie threw the towel into the sink and knelt next to him. “Are you okay?”
Megan chimed in: “Are you okay, Josh?”
He nodded. “I’m okay.”
“Goo
d.” Joanie stood with a grunt, cupped his face, and kissed his forehead. “You’re a good boy. You’re always welcome in our home.”
“You can come over anytime,” Megan said. “Right, Mommy?”
“That’s right, sweetie.”
Josh knew he was running out of time. He wanted to finish his drawing before he had to go home. He closed his eyes and saw Heaven.
The pencil moved across the page, expanding a black lightning bolt. A crack in the world.
“Your mom’s here, Josh.”
He looked up in wonder. He’d been so absorbed he hadn’t heard the knock.
Mommy entered the kitchen with Ross. “Time to go, little man.”
“Did you have fun?” Ross asked him.
Josh smiled and nodded. He’d had a lot of fun.
He wanted to cry because he was leaving but held it back. He remembered he’d promised Mommy he wouldn’t cry at the end. Mommy expected it, and he wanted to be good.
Mommy said, “What did you draw?”
He said nothing.
“Josh?”
He shrugged, his expression neutral.
Mommy studied the drawing.
It was an intricate pattern of light and shadow. Hundreds of tiny dots dimpled the white page. A black lightning bolt crackled down the middle. And over the top of everything, a light, gentle swirl pulled you in.
“The detail is amazing,” Joanie said. She was seeing the finished drawing for the first time. “Very abstract. Boys his age typically don’t have that good small-muscle control.”
“He’s a regular Gustave Doré,” said Ross.
“Is that Heaven?” Mommy asked Josh.
He nodded.
The grown-ups gathered around for a closer look. Josh’s fears slipped away. They weren’t mad. They were fascinated. They liked it. It was the kind of drawing Mommy put on the refrigerator door with magnets. The best of the best. Megan leaned, frowning, across the table, trying to figure out what made it good to grown-up eyes.
“Is that what you see when you go to sleep?” asked Ross.
Josh nodded. “See, Mommy? It’s not so bad. Heaven’s not bad.”
Suffer the Children Page 21
