The last guest leaves after midnight.

“G’night, guys,” Dad says to me and Elliott, who is sleeping over.

“Night, David,” Lindsay says.

Bubbe pats my shoulder. “Oy vey, I’m tired,” she says, and stumbles off to her apartment.

Elliott opens a sleeping bag on the floor near my bed.

When the light’s out, he says, “David, you up?”

“Yeah.”

“Look, I’m sorry about … you know.”

“It’s okay. Really.”

I wait in the dark for Elliott to say something else, but all I hear are soft snoring sounds. I think about Sophie kissing me again and those star cupcakes. I think about all the people watching my video on The Daily Show. I think about Elliott sleeping here in my room again, just like old times. And I think about Mom, who probably wishes she were here, but can’t be. It’s not her fault, but it’s not mine or Dad’s or the Farmer’s, either.

I turn on the little light over my bed and pull out my Rubik’s Cube. I fiddle with it for a while but can’t get more than one side the same color. I remember that Mom taught me to close my eyes and visualize myself solving it. I close my eyelids and remember the video I saw with the steps to solving it; then I imagine myself doing each of those steps. I open my eyelids and start doing them. When I get close to the end, I make the last several turns with my eyes closed. When I open them, I’m surprised to see that each side is a solid color.

I wish I could show Mom. I put the cube on my desk so Elliott will see it in the morning. He’ll be so impressed.

Then I pull a sheet of paper and a pen from my desk drawer. I think I’m going to write to Mom about the Rubik’s Cube, but instead I write this:

Dear Mom,

I’m sorry you couldn’t come here, but it’s okay. I love you anyway. I will always love you no matter what.

Maybe over Thanksgiving break, Dad will take me to visit you so you won’t have to leave your house. If that would be okay.

I’m going to make a new TalkTime with Elliott this weekend. And I’ll say hello to you on it. And whenever you get a chance to look at it in the library and write a comment, I will read it no matter how many other comments I get.

I love you,
   David

I put the letter in an envelope to mail in the morning. Then I listen to the sounds of Elliott’s breathing. I think about Lindsay sleeping in the next room and Dad and Bubbe asleep, too. I think about Hammy out in the yard. Maybe I’ll get a new hamster someday. Maybe I’ll name it Hermy and he’ll like being in my videos, too.

I take a deep breath, turn out the light and close my eyes.