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“Noooo…how will I make friends with those older kids?” He looked up at me like I had all the answers.
I wish I did. “Easily. You’re funny and great, how can they not want to be your friend?” His blue eyes showed me that he didn’t appreciate that answer and my heart ached in my chest. “Science camp starts in a few weeks, chat up a few of the older kids if you can. Maybe you’ll have a few friends when the new year starts.”
“But Mom, it’s fifth grade! After that I’ll be in sixth and then comes junior high and I’m not ready!” His cheeks were bright pink, and his eyes had turned pale in his anguish.
“If you’re not ready then you don’t have to do it, Beau. But I think you should think about it for a while before we do anything. Okay?”
He nodded but I knew he wasn’t finished. I could feel his gaze burning through the side of my face. “Can we forget the appointment today? Nothing will ever work and now I have to think about the fifth grade,” he said as though it were on par with trying to pursue world peace. And to him, I was sure it was just as important.
“Tell you what, you think about the fifth grade and I’ll worry about the specialist.” It was the best I could offer because I would never stop trying to help my little boy. Whether he was eight or eighty, I’d always do whatever I could to give him the best, longest life possible.
The drive to Dr. Mankowski’s office would go quickly as soon as we moved away from the city traffic, so I relaxed behind the wheel and listened to Beau talk about all the experiments he wanted to try when camp started. Last year he’d gone to math camp, but he hadn’t enjoyed it quite as much. “I like science more than numbers,” he said, remembering his disappointment last year.
“You don’t think math is useful?” I asked.
He rolled his eyes. “I guess it’s useful, but with science, you can see how it works in the real world.”
I laughed. “And you think math doesn’t?”
He shook his head. “No, Mom, you don’t understand.”
“Well, I could argue the basics like paying bills and buying groceries or making a cake but let’s go a little more difficult and talk about critical thinking skills. Buildings.”
“But buildings also use science,” he argued correctly.
“I think that means they’re both very useful in everyday life.”
Beau groaned. “I guess so.”
By the time we arrived to see the specialist, Beau had forgotten all about becoming a fifth grader next year. I just hoped the doctor had some good news for us.
***
Visits to doctors and specialists had always left me feeling exhausted and even though I knew I brought it on myself, I couldn’t stop it. The incessant worrying and waiting for the other shoe to drop. The clenched fists and teeth, and of course the racing heart. But today Dr. Mankowski had given me something I’d been faking for a long time.
Hope.
He hadn’t made any promises but his research was promising. And it gave Beau a chance to get off the nebulizer.
“Don’t be scared, Mom,” he said on a yawn. Poor Beau was even more beat than I was after plenty of breathing tests as well as a physical exam and a quick blood test to see if there were any other health concerns he needed to know about before they started determining his eligibility for the stem cell treatment.
I sighed and ruffled his hair. “You’re a sweet boy, Beau, but you know I will always worry about you. Always.” We were almost home and I needed peace. Maybe yoga. Maybe a magic brownie once
Beau was down for the night.
Maybe. It was the story of my life. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
A quick look in the passenger seat showed his eyes had slid shut and his chest moved up and down evenly. No wheezing to be heard as I turned into the driveway and that fact alone had my whole body sinking back into the driver’s seat. Hearing him breathe slow and normal was a load off.
For now.
His attacks came at any time and they could be light and quick, no big deal. But most of the time they were more serious, exhausting for both of us and often ended up with us in the hospital emergency room. I had hoped we’d both end up in our respective beds today.
But as I looked through the windshield my gaze landed on Cross, looking better than my black bean lasagna and I already knew he was twice as delicious. What I didn’t know, as I stepped from the car and rounded the trunk to get my sleeping son, was why he’d shown up on my doorstep.
“Hey.” The word came out soft, quiet and maybe just a little breathless. Maybe.
“Hey.” His smile was as bright as I’d ever seen it, even though the shadows were still there.
