Chapter 4
Denise’s first treatment day began with Jayden making pancakes.
He had watched a video and followed the recipe, but he had forgotten to lower the heat. The first pancake was nearly black. He slid it onto my plate before Denise came downstairs.
“That’s yours,” he whispered.
“Generous.”
The second one looked better. Denise ate half of it and kissed the top of his head.
“I’m going to school,” he told her, “but you have to text me when you get home.”
“I’ll send one message. Then you can finish your classes without checking every five minutes.”
He looked disappointed.
“One message,” he agreed.
At the clinic, Denise held my hand while we waited. She had chosen what to tell us about the day. I let her set the pace. When a nurse came in, Denise asked her questions directly. When she grew tired, I wrote down the answers so she could rest.
We got home in the afternoon. Camille had brought soup and put it in the refrigerator. Denise wanted to sit on the sofa, so I brought her a blanket and a glass of water.
She sent Jayden the promised message.
He replied immediately: I love you. Kitchen is mine tonight.
She showed me and smiled.
Jayden came home with his friend Aaliyah. She stood just inside the doorway holding his school notes.
“He missed the last part of class because he kept checking his phone,” she told me.
“I checked it twice,” he protested.
“Six times.”
Aaliyah looked at Denise.
“I hope it’s okay that he told me.”
“It is,” Denise said. “I’m glad he has a friend to talk to.”
Aaliyah did not ask questions Denise was too tired to answer. She sat with Jayden at the table and helped him finish the assignment he had missed.
Later, while I cooked, Denise’s coworker called. The company had posted her manager position internally. Denise had received no direct notice.
I saw the change in her face when she heard.
“Send me the posting,” she said.
She ended the call and stared at the sofa cushion.
“You don’t have to deal with it tonight,” I said.
“I don’t want to. I also don’t want to wake up and find they’ve decided I’m gone.”
We saved the message and sent it to her adviser. Then Denise put her phone away.
At dinner, Jayden carried her bowl to the table. He asked if she wanted him to leave the lights low. She said yes.
He did the dishes afterward without being asked.
I thought about the night I had taken his phone. I had believed he needed a hard lesson about respect. He had needed that. He also needed us to keep being his parents while he learned what helping actually meant.
When I went upstairs, he was sitting outside Denise’s bedroom with his back against the wall.
“What are you doing?”
“She said she wanted to sleep. I didn’t want her to call and have nobody hear.”
“Your mom can call me. Come downstairs.”
He shook his head.
I sat beside him.
“Jayden, you don’t have to watch her door. It’s my job to help her tonight. Your job is to rest so you can go to school tomorrow.”
“She looked worse after dinner.”
“She’s tired. We know whom to call if something worries us.”
He looked at me.
“Are you scared?”
“Yes.”
He pressed his lips together.
“I thought grown-ups weren’t supposed to say that.”
“We can say it. Then we can do the next useful thing.”
“What’s the next thing?”
“For you, it’s bed. For me, it’s checking that Mom has what she needs.”
He stood reluctantly. I went in to Denise, who was awake and had heard us.
“He’s worried,” she said.
“So am I.”
“I don’t want him living like a nurse.”
“He won’t. We’ll help him find room to be fifteen.”
The following morning, Denise received a reply from the company. A senior leader said the job posting had been made in error while they reviewed staffing. Denise asked for the posting to be removed and for a meeting with someone beyond her manager.
She also began keeping copies of the projects she had completed and the messages explaining the proposed change. The adviser helped her prepare.
I watched Denise take control of what she could. At home, I kept cooking. Some meals were good. Jayden remembered every time I burned something.
One evening, he came to me with a school form for a weekend gaming tournament.
“Can I still go?” he asked.
“Your mom and I want you to keep seeing your friends.”
“What if she needs me?”
“Camille and I are here. We’ll make a plan.”
He stood in the hallway, thinking.
“Can you tell her I asked?”
“Come tell her yourself.”
May you like
Denise was sitting at the kitchen island. Jayden showed her the form. She read it and asked what time his team played.
He began explaining the whole tournament. She listened, smiling while she wrote the date on our calendar.
