The John Green Collection(256)
“When,” I said.
She nodded. “Even when you die, I will still be your mom, Hazel. I won’t stop being your mom. Have you stopped loving Gus?” I shook my head. “Well, then how could I stop loving you?”
“Okay,” I said. My dad was crying now.
“I want you guys to have a life,” I said. “I worry that you won’t have a life, that you’ll sit around here all day with no me to look after and stare at the walls and want to off yourselves.”
After a minute, Mom said, “I’m taking some classes. Online, through IU. To get my master’s in social work. In fact, I wasn’t looking at antioxidant recipes; I was writing a paper.”
“Seriously?”
“I don’t want you to think I’m imagining a world without you. But if I get my MSW, I can counsel families in crisis or lead groups dealing with illness in their families or—”
“Wait, you’re going to become a Patrick?”
“Well, not exactly. There are all kinds of social work jobs.”
Dad said, “We’ve both been worried that you’ll feel abandoned. It’s important for you to know that we will always be here for you, Hazel. Your mom isn’t going anywhere.”
“No, this is great. This is fantastic!” I was really smiling. “Mom is going to become a Patrick. She’ll be a great Patrick! She’ll be so much better at it than Patrick is.”
“Thank you, Hazel. That means everything to me.”
I nodded. I was crying. I couldn’t get over how happy I was, crying genuine tears of actual happiness for the first time in maybe forever, imagining my mom as a Patrick. It made me think of Anna’s mom. She would’ve been a good social worker, too.
After a while we turned on the TV and watched ANTM. But I paused it after five seconds because I had all these questions for Mom. “So how close are you to finishing?”
“If I go up to Bloomington for a week this summer, I should be able to finish by December.”
“How long have you been keeping this from me, exactly?”
“A year.”
“Mom.”
“I didn’t want to hurt you, Hazel.”
Amazing. “So when you’re waiting for me outside of MCC or Support Group or whatever, you’re always—”
“Yes, working or reading.”
“This is so great. If I’m dead, I want you to know I will be sighing at you from heaven every time you ask someone to share their feelings.”
My dad laughed. “I’ll be right there with ya, kiddo,” he assured me.
Finally, we watched ANTM. Dad tried really hard not to die of boredom, and he kept messing up which girl was which, saying, “We like her?”
“No, no. We revile Anastasia. We like Antonia, the other blonde,” Mom explained.
“They’re all tall and horrible,” Dad responded. “Forgive me for failing to tell the difference.” Dad reached across me for Mom’s hand.
“Do you think you guys will stay together if I die?” I asked.
“Hazel, what? Sweetie.” She fumbled for the remote control and paused the TV again. “What’s wrong?”
“Just, do you think you would?”
“Yes, of course. Of course,” Dad said. “Your mom and I love each other, and if we lose you, we’ll go through it together.”
“Swear to God,” I said.
“I swear to God,” he said.
I looked back at Mom. “Swear to God,” she agreed. “Why are you even worrying about this?”
“I just don’t want to ruin your life or anything.”
Mom leaned forward and pressed her face into my messy puff of hair and kissed me at the very top of my head. I said to Dad, “I don’t want you to become like a miserable unemployed alcoholic or whatever.”
My mom smiled. “Your father isn’t Peter Van Houten, Hazel. You of all people know it is possible to live with pain.”
“Yeah, okay,” I said. Mom hugged me and I let her even though I didn’t really want to be hugged. “Okay, you can unpause it,” I said. Anastasia got kicked off. She threw a fit. It was awesome.
I ate a few bites of dinner—bow-tie pasta with pesto—and managed to keep it down.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I woke up the next morning panicked because I’d dreamed of being alone and boatless in a huge lake. I bolted up, straining against the BiPAP, and felt Mom’s arm on me.
“Hi, you okay?”
My heart raced, but I nodded. Mom said, “Kaitlyn’s on the phone for you.” I pointed at my BiPAP. She helped me get it off and hooked me up to Philip and then finally I took my cell from Mom and said, “Hey, Kaitlyn.”