Liv, Liv,
Clays says,
and I hear the words
LIVE LIVE.
I reach for the rope
to move the canoe
toward us.
Let’s go, Clay.
Let’s go before it gets dark,
I say.
Let’s go be beavers
on the river.
Magic Lotion
When I get back home,
my arms ache, and
my body feels like it’s still
moving down the river.
Mom is curled up
sleeping
in Jonah’s bed,
and Jonah is wide awake
in his chair beside her.
It’s like he’s watching
over her.
I wheel Jonah into the kitchen
and close the doors
to the living room
so Mom can keep sleeping.
Food Truck comes along,
serving seltzer again.
I take Phoebe’s magic lotion
with me.
That’s what the nurses
call Phoebe’s bottle of
moisturizer.
At first they thought
it was a coincidence—
the evenings Phoebe
massaged the lotion
on Jonah’s hands, feet,
legs, back, face
before bed,
he slept all night.
Those nights,
there were no
loud cries
for help
waking me.
We still call it
magic lotion,
even though we know
the magic is in the touch.
Another thing I’ve learned—
touch makes you feel
you’re not alone.
I put lotion on
Jonah’s arms and hands,
rubbing it in small circles
the way Phoebe does.
Jonah turns his head
to look behind him,
and there’s a question-mark look
on his face.
Are you looking for Mom?
She fell asleep on your bed.
I thought we’d let her sleep
a little, and kick her out
when you’re ready for bed.
Jonah’s eyes still search
the room.
Oh, you’re looking for Johnny
or Phoebe.
Mom told Johnny to go home.
He was here all day
at the party.
It’s a no-nurse night,
just the three of us.
I take off Jonah’s sneakers
and socks, and rub lotion on
his feet, doing each toe
separately.
I wonder if it reminds Jonah
of when he used to stand on
the ground—
the feel of something solid
against the bottom of his feet.
Jonah’s eyes move,
to the front door,
to the stairs,
to the windows,
back and forth
over and over,
over and over.
I finally get it.
You’re looking for Clay?
I ask Jonah.
You’re wondering why
he didn’t make it
to the party?
His eyes stop darting around
and settle on me.
Clay’s working at Brann’s Dairy Farm
in south Maddigan,
and he doesn’t get much time off.
But maybe he can come another day.
I can’t tell
if this is what Jonah
wanted to know,
needed to know,
or if he’s thinking
about all the other friends
who stopped coming
a long time ago,
but when I’m done talking,
Jonah closes his eyes.
Is he imagining
what it’s like
to work on a farm?
I finish with Phoebe’s magic lotion—
massaging the knots
out of his calves
with my thumbs.
Then I wake Mom
and together
we get Jonah,
already asleep,
back to bed.
Audrey
Piper texts me,
“Audrey is in the hospital
with asthma.
Caroline and Mariah
really miss her.”
I learn that Sweet Sunflower
is named Audrey,
Little Lima Bean is Caroline
and Pretty Parsley
is Mariah.
Sweet Sunflower’s whistling,
which sounded like a rusty music box
caught in her throat,
was asthma.
Even Sara,
with her extrasensory powers,
felt a shift in energy, but she
didn’t see this coming.
I know how that is—
how the worst thing
is right where you
least expect it to be—
in your lungs,
in your chest,
in the attic
of the house
right across the street.
Liv
The Wednesday after the party
is Jonah’s real birthday.
It’s also spring break
from school.
The sun is bright
when I go down the steps
in the backyard.
When I see LIV
floating by the shore,
it feels like my birthday
all over again.
I wear my life jacket
because I promised Clay
I would.
Being on the river
is nothing like
looking at it
from land.
The wind blows in my face
on the way downstream,
and rocks the canoe.
The end of my paddle
is long and flat
and I smack it
against the water,
the way beavers
slap their tails
when they’re startled.
I stop paddling
to watch a hawk
overhead,
and steer over to the riverbank
to touch a water lily.
The best part of
being on the river
is that there’s nothing
that needs to be done
except staying afloat.
I can paddle
or not.
I can let the river
take me where it will,
or I can move forward
so fast
I forget
where I started from.
What Form?
When she gets back from work,
Mom tells me
what Birchell said—
the judge’s decision
could come any day now.
In the meantime,
we are still waiting—
waiting to lose,
waiting to win—
and I can’t imagine
how either of those
will feel.
I wonder:
If the judge decided
to let us vote
on the verdict,
me, Mom,
Clay’s father, Gwen, Clay—
who would win?
Me and Mom
would vote for the money
for Jonah,
and Clay’s father would vote
against.
Probably Gwen would vote
against, too,
even though she crossed the line.
That would make Clay
the tie breaker.
I can’t guess how the judge,
with her wide-screen eyes,
will vote.
Vivian is moving
out of state.
Lila is taking
a new job.
Jess is going
back to school
in the fall.
Everyone is moving on
with their lives—
except Jonah.
The nurses are family,
then they are not.
Mom asks me
if I’ve seen a form
that was in the kitchen drawer.
What form?
I ask,
not saying I know