Reggie Withers’ll be under a bottle of piss-poor rye by now, Ridley said. Take my car. I got it here.
How you gonna get around?
I’ll use your bike. We’ll swap.
Harrison nodded. Okay.
Key’s upstairs; hold on.
Harrison pulled a cigarette from the pack in his shirt pocket and struck a match and lit it and stood and watched the sky and the earth. The world was beautiful. Ridley returned with his keys. They swapped. Harrison said, could you stop by, look after Milo til I’m back and Ridley said, sure.
Thanks.
Give Florence a big hug from her Uncle Jackie.
Harrison nodded.
I’ll see you, Jack, he said.
He packed three bags without thinking and collected a few of Florence’s toys together and pushed them into a suitcase and went into the bathroom and vomited. Downstairs, he gave Milo some water, ate a slice of leftover pie from the refrigerator and locked up. He sat up in bed, smoking, reading a little of the paperback on his bedside table, then turned out the light and went to sleep.
Daddy!
Well hey there, Duck, he said, setting the bags down at the foot of her bed. How you feelin?
Better, she said.
Well, I’m glad to hear that, he said.
Florence sat up. Small machines sat on blue metal trolleys beside her. The room was bright. A small window overlooked the parking lot, five floors below.
Hey, you’ve got a great view here, Duck, he said, peering out the window. Think I can see the sea.
Mommy’s gonna take me to the beach soon and we’re gonna go cause we have to play in the sand, cause we’re going to the beach.
That right? Harrison said. Hi, hon, he said to Grace. He leaned over to where she sat and kissed her.
Hey, Grace said. You get here okay?
No problems, he said. Jack lent me his car.
That’s good of him, she said.
Yeah, he said. And Uncle Jackie gives you a big hug, Duck.
Yeee! Florence said.
I’m tired, Grace said.
I bet, he said.
Thanks for bringing out all our stuff.
Anything I’ve forgotten, just buy here.
Can I have another kiss, Daddy?
Sure you can, sweetheart, he said, and kissed her cheek.
Daddy! she said. You’re all prickly!
No time to shave? Grace said.
Packed my razor, Harrison said.
Honey, Grace said, turning to Florence. Do you want to tell Daddy your news?
Florence looked at her for a second.
You do it, she said.
What is it? Harrison said.
Well, Duck has to stay in bed for a while, cause she’s having some trouble standing and walking—isn’t that right, sweetheart?
Florence nodded.
Well, okay then, Harrison said. That looks like a pretty comfy bed. Seems like a good place to be.
You get in with me, Daddy?
Oh, well, I don’t think there’s enough room for me, he said. And I’m very heavy.
Daddy’s very heavy, Florence said to Grace, who smiled.
Grace, want some coffee? Harrison said.
I’m okay.
Can I have a coffee, Daddy?
No you can’t, Grace said.
Aw, Florence said.
All right, Harrison said. Be back in a minute.
Earlier, at seven, Lapitus had stopped by to say good morning. Treatment was scheduled to start at eleven. A nurse called Clara came by at ten and said she’d found a motel with a double room right around the corner, if they wanted it. Harrison, who had just returned with his coffee, said they did and thanked her.
She’s such a sweet girl, Clara said. She hasn’t complained, at all.
Lapitus came in a little later. He introduced himself to Harrison, and explained the treatment plan to them.
We’ll be using radiation therapy, Lapitus said, as you know surgery isn’t an option. We’ll keep her here for a week, then we’ll see her as an outpatient for an additional six.
And that will get rid of the tumor? Grace said.
It’s hard to say at this stage, Lapitus said. You will see a big improvement in her symptoms during the treatment, though.
She’ll be able to walk? Grace said.
Most likely. I understand Clara found you a motel?
Yes, Grace said, just around the corner, thank you.
Our pleasure, Lapitus said. Now, Captain Harrison—
You can call me Jim.
Jim. Let’s take a walk.
Harrison looked at his wife who nodded and he left the room with Lapitus.
The smell of the hospital gave him comfort. Lapitus led him down murmuring hallways with vanishing points that seemed to move, across wide atriums and through crowded lobbies. Harrison quizzed Lapitus about Florence’s condition, the treatment, the tumor as they walked.
Brain tumors in children are rare, Lapitus said. There’s only about fifteen hundred diagnosed a year, but what Florence has accounts for just one in ten of those. They are, as any pediatric oncologist will tell you after a few drinks, dreaded.
They moved through a busy elevator lobby.
Jim, Lapitus said, I haven’t told Grace this yet; I wanted to wait until you were here. I’m afraid the prognosis for Florence is not good.