CHAPTER 29

First, it’s not hospital food. In fact, it’s my favourite: pancakes. Warm, sweet, plenty good. A full stack of them, with butter and maple syrup.

“They’re from Tania’s — best in Nanaimo,” says Ruby, who brought them with her. “You’re leaving hospital today, right? That’s what Dad said. I want to drive you home, so I told the bistro I was sick and took the eight o’clock ferry. I picked up breakfast on my way here.”

Ruby is the second reason breakfast is fantastic. Ruby makes anything better. I’d way rather drive home with her than Mom. Especially after what happened with Mom yesterday.

“Thanks,” I say. “Have a bite?” I hold up a dripping forkful. She leans forward and lips it off.

I lie back against the plumped pillows. Pancakes in bed, my sister smiling at me. I want to enjoy it.

Often you don’t realize that you’re having a good life moment until it’s over. So when you notice that you are in the middle of one, take a breath. Be grateful for the moment.

“Thank you,” I say out loud.

“You already thanked me,” says Ruby.

“I was thanking — well — the universe. Not you.”

She smiles. She knows me as well as anyone. “So you’re feeling better, eh, Gussie? That’s good news. I guess yelling at Mom yesterday helped you.”

“I didn’t yell at her. I said what I felt.”

“Loudly?”

“Maybe. So Mom told you about that scene, eh? Was she upset?”

“She’s upset, all right. She talked about you to Dad last night, then phoned me to say it all again. I think you were right to call her out. Mom loves you, but she doesn’t get you. The way you talk, think, make jokes — everything about you seems random. Mom is the opposite.”

Ruby sits cross-legged at the foot of my bed. She reaches to take my juice glass from my bed tray. The pancakes are getting cold. But they still taste good.

“For what it’s worth,” she says, replacing my glass, “I don’t think Dad gets you either, but he does think you’re funny. I wonder how two people like that had two kids like us?”

Her black T-shirt has a big white question mark on the front. Appropriate or what?

I don’t care about Mom or Dad, but I'm glad Ruby gets me.

That isn’t true. I do care about my parents. But Ruby matters more to me. She's close to the core of my identity. I take my phone from my bedside table — the time is 9:32 — and text her.

ME: You

A few seconds later she takes out her phone, nods, texts me back. It’s still 9:32.

RUBY: You

There’s one bite of pancake left. I swallow it. Mom comes bustling in, shoots me a grim glance, then reloads her face into a smile.

“You’re clear to leave the hospital, Gus. Time to get dressed, eh?”

She’s pretending that yesterday didn’t happen. She’s prepared to forget it. Fine with me. But I won’t forget what I said to her.

I get my clothes from my locker and change in the bathroom. When I come out, Doc Sharon is there.

I smile at her and hold out my hand. She takes it in both of hers.

“Gus Constantine, you are an interesting young man,” she says, shaking my hand up and down. “I’m glad we had a chance to talk. You are very aware of yourself, even the parts you don’t like. You are not afraid to ask for help. And when help arrives, you are not afraid to take it. That is a marvellous approach to life. I wonder what your future holds, Gus. I look for you to do something amazing.”

“Amen!” says Ruby in a loud voice. She and the doc beam at each other. I don’t know how they can feel that way about me. Mom and Dad will be relieved if I never start a riot or go to jail.

“Thanks, doc. Look after that parrot of yours.”

She laughs heartily.