The waiting room at the surgical suite was filled with a dozen weary souls, gray faces and bitten nails. Mia was there, wan and exhausted, along with Peter, Uncle Wally, and Aunt Janet, who had inexplicably brought a picnic basket though it was 6:00 A.M.
Mia looked awful, eyes swollen with sleeplessness, her hair stiff and brittle. In anticipation of the surgery, she’d had to lather her locks with antibacterial shampoo, which had washed the life right out of them.
The small crew had commandeered a corner of the waiting room, Evan sitting among them as if he belonged. Mia had retreated within herself, Peter was listless at Evan’s side, Wally barely holding himself together. Janet kept up a stream of perky chatter despite the fact that no one else was participating.
A half hour in, Joey showed up with a gas-station bouquet of flowers. Only a miracle or a tragedy could drag her out of bed this early, and Evan wasn’t sure which this would prove to be.
She gave the sunflowers to Mia, wished her the best, said her hellos, then signaled to Evan that she wanted to get going. Joey was jittery; she’d hated hospitals ever since her aunt who was like a mother to her—her maunt—had died when she was young. “Walk me out?”
Evan nodded.
Before going, Joey crouched before Peter and placed her hands on his knees. Even now Peter perked up; Joey was a source of endless fascination to him.
“I hate hospitals,” he told her. “My dad was in the hospital before.”
“Hospitals are also where people go to get well,” Joey said.
Peter appeared unconvinced. Joey looked down, bit her lip, searching for words. “I didn’t have much family growing up,” she said quietly, “unlike you. But I had a maunt who I loved very much. And you know what she used to tell me?”
“What?”
“That I was one of the magical people. And she knew. ’Cuz she always did. And I want to tell you something, Peter. You’re one of the magical people, too.”
He brightened, blinking back his delight. Then hugged her around her neck.
Joey started out, Evan at her side down the hall.
Evan said, “What about me?”
“You?” Joey said. “Definitely not one of the magical people.” She made a fist, pressed it into his shoulder, and pushed him off balance. Then she grinned.
She’d bought a new truck, the Ford P758, which looked like Evan’s F-150 if someone had put it through the dryer and shrunk it down. The back was loaded up, passenger window down. Dog the dog’s big head stuck out, tongue lolling, big smile.
Evan halted. “You’re leaving straight from here?”
“Yup.”
“Still don’t know where you’re going?”
“Nope.”
They stared at each other awkwardly.
“Welp,” she said. “Bye.”
“Bye.”
He started away.
“Wait.”
He turned.
“Okay, fine,” she said. “I’ll let you give me one piece of advice.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Yeah, but you know you want to.”
He considered. “When you come into a situation, don’t want anything. Don’t want approval. Don’t want to scare people. Don’t want anyone to like you. Don’t need to prove anything to them or make them angry. Then you can see what’s really happening.”
She scooped her hair behind her ears, nodded nervously, then nodded again. “Okay, right. And if I need you, I can always call 1-855-2-NOWHERE.”
Evan said, “It’s not a helpline.”
“Shut up,” she said. “It is for me.”
She was still grinning when she pulled out.
At seven o’clock a nurse arrived to give Mia a five-minute warning before taking her back for prep. She received the news stoically, Evan, Janet, and Peter looking on.
Wally had already hit his limit. “Listen,” he said after the nurse withdrew. “It’s an eight-hour surgery, and I don’t want to wait here. I mean…” Tears were running down his face, which he and everyone else pretended to ignore. “I’ll just be in the cafeteria reviewing my cases.”
Peter had stopped talking, smashing his flattened hands together between his knees.
“I understand,” Mia said, planting a kiss on Wally’s cheek.
“I’ll stay with Peter,” Janet said.
Wally lumbered out, head lowered, shoulders shaking.
Evan squatted before Mia, rested his hands on her knees. She remained deep inside herself, curled on the seat, breathing. After a few minutes, the nurse came up at their side and waited patiently to take Mia back.
Mia looked at Evan. “Remember what we talked about.”
He said, “I will.”
“I just have to get on the table. Let them put the needle in my arm.”
“That’s it,” Evan said. “See you on the other side.”
“Janet will call you when it’s over.”
He noted that she didn’t say that she herself would call when it was over.
The nurse led Mia back. Evan ruffled Peter’s hair. And started out.
Halfway down the hall, he heard the pounding of tiny footsteps.
“Evan Smoak!”
He turned around. Peter was standing there, angry little face, fists clenched at his sides.
Evan’s throat was dry. He swallowed.
He said, “Do you need my help?”
Peter’s face was fighting with itself. He forced out words. “A girl in my class, she had cancer. Her hair fell out, and then she left school and she didn’t come back again.”
Evan just looked at him.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Peter said.
Evan said, “Okay.”
“I want to see my mom in there. Before she goes in. And Uncle Wally’s all like too sad and doesn’t want to cry in front of me. And Aunt Janet talks too much. So…”
Evan waited.
“Will you go in with me?”
Evan said, “Yes.”
They walked back to the waiting room. Janet had buried herself in the picnic basket. She popped up as if emerging from a burrow. “Oh. I was just going to run down and check on Wally. Ask the nice lady at the desk. She said she’d take you both in.”
Evan went over with Peter and asked the nice lady.
She led them in.
Mia was in a curtained section in pre-op. Already in a gown, her unruly hair pushed back, the surgeon’s initials written in Magic Marker on the left side of her forehead at the hairline.
Without hesitating Peter climbed into the hospital bed and curled into her. “Hi, Mama.”
“Hi, little man.” She stroked his hair. “Look. It’s obvious I’m your biggest fan, right? The thing is, it’s not because of how you act or what you do or what your grades are, okay?”
His face was below her chin, and she turned away so he wouldn’t see the tears dotting her gown.
“I don’t care what you do. It’s who you are that I love, that I’m proud of. And no matter what happens”—a hitch in her voice, but she caught it—“when you grow up, you don’t ever have to be sad that I didn’t know how spectacular you turned out. I already do. I already know how amazing you were in high school and in college and how great your girlfriend is—or boyfriend.”
“Mom,” Peter said. But he was crying.
“And your job. And your kids. How wonderful they are, too. I know it all already, okay?”
“Okay, Mama.”
“I need you to know that I see you fully. And that means everything you will ever be. I see that, too. All of it.”
She closed her eyes, tears leaking, and kissed the top of his head, breathing in his scent deep.
She let go.
Peter slid off the bed.
Walked back out to the waiting area, Evan trailing him.
Peter hopped up onto a cushioned chair.
Evan sat beside him.
They stared at the electronic board showing patient ID numbers and status.
“How long can we stay?” Peter asked.
“How long do you want to stay?”
“Until,” Peter said.
Evan gave a nod.
On the electronic board, Mia’s ID number moved from one column to the next.
Peter’s breathing quickened a bit.
Evan reached over, turned his hand palm up, and set it on the armrest between them.
Peter took it.