16 Things I Thought were True Part 6

You're going to quit smoking, and you're going to be fine." I shove my ChapStick back in my pocket and stand.

She turns back to me then, her face panicky, and shakes her head.

"No. I'm dying. My dream..."

"Mom," I say, placing my hand on her hip. "You're not going to die," I say firmly.

"But..." She stops and glances around the room and then whis- pers, "The insurance won't cover all of this. Not all the tests they're doing. The surgery."

For a second, I think about grabbing her hard, physically jolting her and shaking sense into her. We'll have bills whether she dies or not. "It doesn't mean you're going to die. We'll figure it out." For a brief second, I imagine the worst- case scenario. If she dies, Jake and Josh have their dad. Is it possible I could have mine too?

"The boys need you," she says, as if a death warrant with her name on it has already been scribed.

But who's going to be there for me? An image of the father I don't know tries to form in my head, but I can't see a face.

"Mom," I repeat. "You're going to be okay. And don't worry about the money." I have money in my savings account. I've been saving for years. There's a nice chunk. It's supposed to be for college. But if she needs it, I know I'll hand it over.

Silence in the room thickens. I try to say something... I love 38 sixteenthings.indd 38 9/9/13 2:21 PM.

1 6 t h i n g s i t h o u g h t w e r e t r u e you... I'll help you. But I don't. Her eyes water, and I can see the fear swimming among her tears.

There are footsteps around us, and then the boys walk into the curtained area and the air returns to normal. Mom glances at me, puts a finger to her lips, and sits up a little higher. She pastes a brave face on for her boys. While Jake settles on the side of the bed, Josh takes the chair by her feet and I back away.

"I'm going to get a coffee," I say. Jake is telling her about a nurse Josh hit on in the cafeteria, and I wander out, unnoticed. I head down the hallway to the elevator and find my way to the coffee shop on the main floor. I absently watch visitors, patients, and hospital staff all hurrying around in different directions as I order the hospital's version of an overpriced vanilla latte and sit at a table for four all alone. When I take a greedy sip of coffee, my lip burns.

I try to imagine life without my mom in it, but it's impossible.

Instead, I imagine the faceless man. The man who didn't want kids.

The man who never wanted me. I sip at the coffee and try to swal- low back my emotions.

"Daddy!" a little girl screams. She runs past me, her face stream- ing with tears and terror. No one pays attention, so I stand and run and catch up. I place my hand on her arm, and she stops and I kneel down in front of her.

"You okay, honey?"

Her lip quivers, and she shakes her head. "I can't find my daddy."

"It's okay. I'll help you find him." I put out my hand, and she fits her teeny one inside mine. I smile. I've always loved little kids. I've been researching degrees that lead to careers working with kids. We

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J a n e t G u r t l e r walk to the information desk, and there's a man standing beside it.

The little girl drops my hand and runs to him, hugging his legs. He bends over and scoops her into the air, swinging her around and planting a kiss on her cheek.

"Where did you go, my little monkey?" he says. "I was so wor- ried." I turn and walk back to the coffee shop. "Thank you, miss,"

the man is calling, but I ignore him and go back to my table and pick up my full coffee. I walk to the garbage can and pitch it in the trash. Five bucks down the drain but what does it matter? I probably won't be going to college now anyhow.

When I get back to my mom's hospital room, the nurse is inside checking Mom's vitals. Josh and Jake are standing by the window.

The nurse pointedly looks at each of us and tells us Mom needs to rest. The boys kiss Mom on her cheek and I pat her arm, and we leave.

"She's going to be fine," Jake says as we wait for the elevator in the hallway.

"We need to get her a truckload of Nicorette gum. Hopefully, she'll go through most of the withdrawal while she's here," I say.

"She has to quit smoking."

Jake agrees, and then the elevator door opens and we all pile inside. Josh presses the parking lot b.u.t.ton, and we ride down with- out a word.

"My car better not have a scratch on it," Josh says when the doors open again. We walk toward the spot where Adam left his car, but instead of answering, I take out my phone and turn it on. I go straight to Twitter and punch out a message.

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1 6 t h i n g s i t h o u g h t w e r e t r u e My dad isn't dead after all. #truestory I don't check my messages or even look at my follower status. I shut off the phone and leave it off. When we get home, I go straight to my room, curl up in a ball on my bed, and let the sadness I've been holding off pour in and then back out. I consciously let myself feel.

Instead of fighting it, I embrace and let it in. Remorse. Self- pity.

So. Much. Fear. About the dad I don't know. For my mom.

I don't want her to die.

Finally when I'm emotionally and physically done, I roll onto my side, sit up, and reach for my phone. I turn it on and my phone pings with texts I missed. I have dozens of @ interactions in response to my last tweet. Notes from friends.

More new followers.

An @ message catches my eye. From @therealMcSteamy.

Do you want me to kick him for you?

I squint and look closer.

I click on the profile.

The user pic is Adam.

He's following me on Twitter.

I feel more exposed than I did when my video went viral.

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chapter four.

3. Rocking out to "s.e.xy and I Know It" in my underwear is a totally good idea. #thingsIthoughtweretrue J osh drives Jake and me to the hospital the next day, but Mom is cranky and insists we leave. She says she's tired and wants to sleep. The nurses a.s.sure us she's fine, and frankly we're afraid to disobey her, so we leave.

Josh and Jake both work in construction, at a development not far from Tinkerpark, so Josh drops me off at work. I end up walk- ing through the entrance gate half an hour before my s.h.i.+ft starts.

I force myself to smile at a couple of girls setting up their entrance kiosk. One rolls her eyes at me but the other says hi. I have to pa.s.s the office on the way to the gift shop and pick up my pace.

"Morgan!" a voice calls out as I'm speed- walking to get past.

I sigh and slow my steps. Pretending none of the hospital stuff happened and ignoring Adam as usual is perfectly fine with me.

I'm happy to go back to the boss/employee relations.h.i.+p. Honestly, I'm embarra.s.sed, but he rushes out of the office and d.a.m.n if my heart doesn't beat a little harder. I grab my phone like it's a security blanket and arrange my face into a suitable imitation of a smile sixteenthings.indd 43 9/9/13 2:21 PM.

J a n e t G u r t l e r as he jogs toward me. "Is your mom okay?" He sounds genuinely concerned. It cracks off a layer of my wariness.

"She's tired. Her surgery is in a couple of days. So. Yeah. Nervous, I think." I lift my hand to block the bright morning sun from my eyes.

"Understandable. Don't worry though. She'll be fine." He smiles.

"Hi, Adam!" a female calls. A couple of girls are walking toward us, and he waves without even glancing over, but I see them- two girls each with a perky ponytail, dressed in red Tinkerpark T- s.h.i.+rts.

They're whispering to each other as they pa.s.s to go to the gaming area; they giggle and one of them wiggles her hips in an exaggerated dance motion. I glance back at Adam, but he's watching me and misses it.

"So," he says. "She told you about your dad?"

I blink, but my mind is on the girls.

"Your post. On Twitter last night." He gestures to my phone.

"Oh," I say, as if I haven't been tortured by the fact that he's following me on Twitter. "That's right. You're @therealMcSteamy."

He blushes, but he's the one who picked that name, so I smile.

Suddenly I'm feeling slightly less vulnerable.

"You post on Twitter a lot," Adam says.

The sun disappears behind a bank of dark clouds that seem to be moving toward us. If it rains a lot, they'll shut down the park. I wouldn't mind a day off.

"If it weren't for Twitter, most of my best thoughts would be forced to stay in my head," I say.

"No Facebook though?" he asks.

"Not anymore."After the video blew up, I deleted my account.

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1 6 t h i n g s i t h o u g h t w e r e t r u e "Are you stalking me?" I joke. Without thinking, I punch him on the arm as if he's one of my brothers.

"Ow." He rubs his arm, but I hardly put anything in it. And I'm a wimp. So I roll my eyes.

"Please," I say. "That didn't hurt." A day ago, I wouldn't have thought that I could tease him or have a real conversation with him. The sun emerges from behind a cloud and lights his face.

"You calling me a wimp?" he asks, smiling.

"You said it, not me." I glance down at my phone- another three followers. I smile.

"Can you go more than ten seconds without checking your phone?" he asks.

"I'm pretty sure I can go at least twelve." I tuck the phone back in my pocket and wait while he opens the gift shop door. He holds it while I walk inside. I remove a cloth cover off a row of breakable toys on a gift stand and head behind the counter to tuck it away.

The checklist for opening the store hangs on a clipboard by the cash register. Each task has to be completed with times noted.