Chapter 17: Chemo Day

The first treatment was on a Monday, and Sam asked to come.

He asked at breakfast, with his spoon in his left hand and his eyes on the cereal.

"Can I go with you?"

It was the first thing he had ever asked me for.

My mother opened her mouth to say no, and my father put a hand on her wrist.

"Yes," I said. "Bring a drawing book."

The infusion clinic was on the fourth floor of a glass building, with recliners in rows and a window that looked at the harbor.

My father took the chair by the door.

Sam climbed into the recliner next to mine with his crayon box held against his chest.

"Mr. Brandow?" A nurse in blue scrubs came around the divider with a tray. "Your regular nurse is out sick, so you've got me for today."

It was Hannah.

She had her hair up and a badge clipped to her pocket, and her face gave away nothing at all.

"You work here," I said.

"I took a job in Seaview. Hospitals hire nurses."

"Since when?"

"Since before your name was on my schedule." She set the tray down. "Only today. Tomorrow someone else takes you."

Sam sat up very straight.

"You're the nurse with the phone," he said.

"I am."

"You said press nine."

"I did."

He looked at her, and then he got down from the recliner and put both arms around her waist.

Hannah stood with the tray still in her hand.

Slowly she put it down and laid her palm on the back of his head, where the two swirls were.

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