MY FRIEND

WE ARRIVE AT CHILDREN’S HOSPITAL and follow the choo-choo train mural down a long hall to the elevator and up to the sixth floor, and we end up in a waiting room with puffy white cloth clouds billowing down from the ceiling.

Leyla said Luis was in room 634.

We get there, and the bed is empty.

No one’s in the room.

A nurse comes by. I ask her about Luis, but she says she’s just started her shift. I walk into room 635 and see a little girl, hooked up to all these tubes and monitors and stuff. She’s sitting up, eating. Her mom is feeding her some orange Jell-O, and her dad is reading the newspaper.

I probably shouldn’t bug them, but I can’t help it. I wanna know what’s going on. “Do you know anything about Luis, the kid who was in the next room?”

The parents’ eyes get wide. They look at me like they wanna say something, but they just can’t.

My grandpa puts his hand on my shoulder.

The little girl says, “Luis is up in heaven. He was my friend.”

The mom has a tear running down her face. She doesn’t wipe it away. Just lets it roll.

The dad hides behind his paper.

I look back at my grandpa and he’s biting his lip.

The little girl closes her eyes.

I just wanna scream and break stuff, but I’m stuck frozen in rain-soaked clothes.

“Come on, Sam.” My grandpa walks me down the hall with the puffy white clouds, down the elevator and past the stupid train mural, out to the car.

What do you do next?

We drive home.

Half an hour of windshield wipers back and forth.

Sweesh-sweet.

Sweesh-sweet.

Concentrate on the wipers.

Sweesh-sweet.

Sweesh-sweet.

I count each wiper squeak, hoping the numbers might fill all the space in my brain and keep me from thinking, keep me from feeling anything.

It doesn’t work.

As we get out of the car, my grandpa puts his hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry about your friend, Sam.”

I can’t say anything.

I go to bed and stare at the shadows. I listen to the rain pound the roof and I shake with the wet cold that won’t leave me. I can’t believe this is really happening. I slam my fist into the wall and cry until the tears don’t come anymore.