Page 45 of The Doctor's Truth

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He escapes the conversation and goes racing after Jason, who is testing the strength of one of the ropes with Diego.

Maria steps in line with me and sighs. “It’s not easy, is it?”

“What?”

“Having the hard conversations. Especially as teenagers? Ugh. They don’t want to talk about anything! When my diagnosis got worse…Diego and I had to have some very serious conversations. We used to talk about it as if I might go away one day, you know? Like it was a trip I was taking…and it would be okay.”

Something about this grates me—it feels like a nail file on toenails. Molar-clenching. “We don’t have those conversations,” I say stubbornly.

She shrugs. “Maybe you should. These things…they’re out of our control. It might make him feel better to talk about it—”

“I don’t think I need a lesson on how to parent my child—I’ve been doing pretty well for twelve years, thanks.” I’m in a bad mood. A burned-your-tongue-before-your-favorite-meal bad mood.

To Maria’s credit, she smiles. “Each to his own,” she says, and that’s the end of that.

She’s being nice. She’s only trying to help. But my heart feels like one of those lionfish we saw inside—full of spikes. I try to compromise with “Sorry. I’m just a little on edge—”

“Hey,” Maria says, and she puts her hand on my arm. “You don’t need to apologize to anyone. Okay? It’s okay.”

She squeezes my arm, and I feel like I can breathe again.

25

Jason

It clicks now. I see Maria and Kenzi hang out together, and I think to myself—

Holy shit, what is the one way to a single mom’s heart?

Her son. Obviously.

If there’s anything I know anything about, it’s Hannsett Island. So it’s easy to walk Otto and Diego through the aquarium. And they’re cool kids—I remember what it was like at that age, a bundle of energy and excitement.

Otto, I think, is warming up to me. When we’re outside, hanging out by the boats, I show him and Diego how to tie a cleat knot with one of the loose lines hanging on the dock. Otto is a smart kid and gets it right on the first try.

“You’re a rock star, buddy. Up top.”

I hold up my palm. He squints at me.

“Not falling for that again.”

Okay. So maybe I still have an uphill battle to climb. I sit down beside him. “What’s in the backpack? Hit me with a juice box.”

He’s got a pink-and-purple backpack, and he pulls it into his lap, unzipping it. “I don’t have a juice box.”

“What do you have?”

“Mineral water.” He pulls the bottle out, holding it out to me.

“Mineral water? What are you, ninety?” I take the bottle and chuck it toward the trash can by the aquarium. It bounces off the rim and nearly hits a woman rolling a stroller.

“Fucking asshole!” she snaps at me.

I cover Otto’s ears. “Hey! There are kids here!”

She flips me off.

Whatever. I glance down at Otto. “Hey, you want some ice cream?”

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