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We catch up with Tommy at the Play-Doh table, sitting next to Vanessa, telling her all about a teleporter he plans on building. “It’s going to deliver ice cream machines to all the houses.”
Nessa smiles at him.
“Do you like ice cream?” he says, thumping his fist down on a slab of Play-Doh.
“I guess,” Nessa says, shrugging.
“Is it your birthday?”
Nessa’s lips purse before she says, “No. Why?”
“This party’s for you, right?”
Nessa shrugs again. “It’s not really a party. It’s so people can give me money so I don’t have to be sick anymore.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Tommy asks, fist frozen in the air as he turns to her.
“That’s not nice, Tommy,” Josh cuts in. “You shouldn’t ask people those things. Apologize to Nessa.”
“It’s okay,” she says, taking Tommy’s pile of Play-Doh and adding it to hers. “I have leukemia.” It comes out as “wookemia.”
“But you’re so pretty,” Tommy tells her.
I smile into Josh’s arm while Nessa’s cheeks darken. “Fanks.”
“Your hair’s pretty.”
A frown pulls on Nessa’s lips. “It’s not my real hair. It’s a wig.”
Tommy finally lowers his arm. “Oh.”
Nessa turns to him, her voice soft. “I like your earring.”
“Thanks!” Tommy smiles brightly at her. “Can I see you without the wig?”
“Tommy!” Josh whisper yells.
Tommy’s eyes snap to his. “What?”
Nessa removes the wig and hands it to Tommy. There’s very little hair left on her head from the chemo she’s endured.
Tommy tilts his head, taking in Nessa in all her shy but beautiful glory. “My Aunt Chloe got sick and lost her hair,” Tommy tells her. “She had cancer.”
Nessa nods, her eyes cast downward. “That’s what I have.”
Tommy places the wig on his head, causing Nessa to giggle into her sleeve. “Do I look good?” he asks her, tugging on the ends.
Nessa giggles. “You look like a girl.”
“Your smile is pretty, too,” Tommy says. “And I don’t think you need the wig. You’re pretty without it.” Wow. Kid’s throwing some game.
I don’t realize Nessa’s made a heart from the Play-Doh until she hands it to Tommy. “You’re nice to me,” she tells him.
Tommy takes it from her, as careful as he can, and stares at it a long time. Then he looks up. “Hey. You want to be my girl?”
“Oh God,” Josh mumbles.
“Okay!” Nessa yells.
And just like that, they walk away, hand-in-hand.
“What the hell just happened?” Josh mumbles. “He tells her she’s pretty and now they’re what? Dating? Is he dating? He’s six! He can’t be—oh no.” He turns to me, his eyes wide. “I have approximately ten years before… shit, Becca. I’m not ready for this.”
“Relax,” I sign, rolling my eyes at him. “He’s just crushing on a girl.”
“Yep. I’m going to be a grandpa.”
* * *
Tommy ends up taking a photo with Nessa and with the help of Ella, he uploads it to his Instagram with a link to both Nessa’s and Say Something’s GoFundMe pages. It takes no more than five minutes for Nessa’s page to raise ten thousand dollars, the amount Tommy had asked for in order for him to shave his hair. Comments flood both his Instagram and the GoFundMe page from people stating they would double their donations if his dad would do it, too. Which, of course, Josh does.
Later, in the parking lot, a newly cropped Josh asks Tommy where he learned his smooth moves with the ladies, to which Tommy responds, shrugging, “Nico taught me.” He ticks off each item with his finger. “Tell a girl she’s pretty. Say something about her hair, her smile, her ass, and she’s all yours.”
A total of one hundred and twenty thousand dollars is raised that day, all thanks to a little boy wanting to take care of his girl.
32
—Joshua—
Lunch with Becca and her dad goes smoothly. Martin and my mother make up most of the conversation with music that was popular “in their day,” while Tommy shows Becca what all he’s learned with ASL.
Mom managed to get an online tutor for him who video chats with us once a week. He’s a specialist, working mainly with sudden hearing-impaired children, so it works really well for Tommy. Once Tommy starts to get really comfortable with reading and spelling, he’ll probably end up knowing more than I do.
