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Speechless(169)

By:Hannah Harrington


                No one has asked me point-blank before. Not my parents, not                     Kristen, not Asha. No one.

                I take a deep, shaky breath. “When I was seven, I had to get my                     tonsils taken out,” I tell him. “I was in the hospital, totally freaked out,                     because I’d never had surgery before or anything. And my dad showed up with this                     stuffed dog. He sat next to me the whole time, holding my hand, and that stupid                     dog—it made me feel better. And after…what happened, with Noah, I kept                     remembering that. How scared I was, and how much it meant for my dad to be                     there, so I wasn’t alone.” I have to stop for a moment because my throat is                     constricting with tears. “Noah must’ve been so scared. He was by himself. He                     didn’t have his dad, or his mom, and I just—I couldn’t. I had to. No one should                     have to go through that. It’s not fair.”

                Sam reaches over and brushes away the lone tear that’s trailed                     down my cheek with his thumb. “Yeah,” he agrees softly. “It definitely isn’t                     fair.”

                “I was so stupid,” I say. “I never want to go back to that. I                     am so much happier around you guys.”

                It’s the truth, and not only that, it is also so totally the right thing to say, because Sam lights up                     with a smile, like I not just made his day, but his life. I grab his shirt collar and kiss him, hard and long. Then I                     sit back and put my hand over the dangling key ring, thinking.

                I’m at a crossroads. If I drive west, I’d be going toward                     Recollections and liquor stores and gas stations. If I drive east, I’d be going                     toward the nice houses, including mine. And it would take only a minute if I                     decided to drive to Rosie’s.

                We could go anywhere.

                I turn to Sam and say, “I have an idea.”

                * * *

                The last time I was in a hospital, it was last year when                     Grandpa Murphy had his heart attack and no one was sure whether or not he was                     going to make it. Mom let me miss two days of school to stay with her, and Dad                     actually called out of work the first day, which was how I knew it was serious.                     Mostly I hung out in the waiting room, making prank phone calls to 1-800 numbers                     on the payphone with my cousin Bree while Mom and Dad and Mom’s crapload of                     siblings were too busy talking to three different doctors and each other to                     notice our shenanigans. Grandpa Murphy was okay in the end, even though it was                     touch and go for a while.