The Multitudes Within Me (Sequel to The Sound of Ice)

24

It was high levels of calcium in his blood, which after a suitable dose of bisphosphonate, were brought back down under control. Tom is back to his normal self, the way I've always known him. Tired, but normal. The cancer isn't gone, but he's okay for now. And that's all I want - okay for now.

"It's December," Tom says the day he's released from the hospital.

The first day of December passed and I didn't even notice. "Yeah."

Tom smiles, his eyes crinkling with happiness. "Christmas isn't too far away. Remember that watch I bought for you last year? I know what to get you this year - a nice thick textbook." He laughs. The doctors said he probably wouldn't remember our conversations.

And just like that, the Beckett family is back to normal. Tom comes home, and I move from Cameron's room into my own bedroom. I have to dust off everything, and then I take a long nap in my bed. Tom is still really tired, so I put up the Christmas tree and he watches from the couch, the TV turned on to an OHL hockey game. Ms. Beckett and Veronica make chili for dinner, Tom's favorite, and everyone is so happy! Everyone is so happy! It's holiday break, and I have three weeks before I have to go back to Harvard. It snows lightly, coating the roofs in a light layer of white, and Hailey catches snowflakes on her tongue in her pink snowcoat.

On a grey afternoon, Ms. Beckett sends me and Cameron shopping to buy new Christmas lights for the house. I sit in the passenger seat, yanking on the broken seatbelt, and Cameron cranks up the heat - I love his car. I love being in his car.

"You know, there's a home game early next week," says Cameron. He glances in the mirror and switches lanes as we head towards downtown St. Anne. "Would you want to come? Maybe with the rest of the family, too."

I rest my chin on my hand and look at him. He glances sideways at me - I can tell he's trying to read me, even though his face is neutral. He's wearing a green baseball hat, and it brings out the color of his eyes.

"Of course," I say. "That would be great."

He squints at me, then at the road, then back at me. "You're quiet," he says.

"Am I?"

"Since you've been back. And sad, kind of."

"Oh."

The car hums, and we slow to a stop at a red light. We're on a back road, no other cars in sight, and bare trees line the streets.

"Are you?" Cameron asks in the silence. "Sad, I mean."

I pull my sweatshirt sleeves over my hands. "I don't know."

"I mean, I understood when you first arrived. Tom was really not doing well. But - I mean, he's better now, isn't he? He's back to normal. But you're not back to normal."

I don't say anything at all, and Cameron pulls off his baseball cap and runs his fingers through his dark hair. He exhales deeply, and my heart pounds with sudden soul-crushing love.

"You know you can talk to me."

"I know," I say slowly. "Maybe there are some things I need to tell you."

I watch him watch me. And when he speaks, his voice is so kind and soft. "What's going on, Sam?"

My phone rings loudly in my lap, and I jump, fumbling to answer, the moment shattered. Cameron rubs his eyes and presses the gas - the light turned green awhile ago, but we didn't realize.

"Hi, Sam!" says Ms. Beckett loudly. Even through the phone, I can hear Christmas music playing in the background, and Hailey and Tom talking. "Are you on your way? Can you get the LED kind of lights?"

"Sure."

"And what color do you and Cameron think is best? We all have different opinions here."

"One sec." I pull the phone away from my ear and look at Cameron, who is staring at the road, twisting his lips. "Um. Your mom is wondering what color you like best."

His response is delayed. "For what, the Christmas lights?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know. Maybe multi-colored?"

I lift the phone up and clear my throat. "We like multi-colored."

~

"Here, Sam. Look, do you want to be this doll or this one?" Hailey holds up two dolls, both wearing sparkly outfits. We're sitting in the bedroom that she and Veronica share, the walls painted a soft lavender, toys and dolls flung across the hardwood floor. The house smells like pine needles and cinnamon, and down the hallway, I can hear the television and the comforting murmur of conversation.

I pick the doll with the curly hair, and Hailey beams. "Want to switch their outfits?" she asks.

"Sure!"

"And here's a little comb if you want to brush her hair."

Hailey hums a tune as I pick through the miniature clothes, and I glance up at her. Veronica braided her hair, so it falls messily over her shoulder, and a small smile is on her face. She looks so much older than last year.

"Come on," she says, making the doll walk across the floor. "We're going to go skiing."

Laughter from the living room - I glance over my shoulder.

"You're going to miss the airplane!" says Hailey, and I turn back. "It's taking off in ten seconds. Hurry, hurry!" She sits her doll down on a pillow and begins to count down. When she gets to zero, I lift her up and spin her around the room, and she squeals with happiness.

"That was a good flight," says Hailey as I drop her gently on her bed. "We're at the ski resort! Wow, a mountain!"

There's a small bookshelf beside Hailey's bed that draws my attention, and I run my fingers over the spines of worn books. There's an odd mix of children books and classic literature, but I like the way they're shelved together. I slide out a Walt Whitman book of poetry with a cracked, well-loved cover.

"Oh, that's Veronica's," says Hailey, looking over my shoulder. "I read a book about space, though! You would like it!"

"Really? You'll have to show me later." I smile at her, then look down as I flip open to a bookmarked page.

Listener up there! what have you to confide to me?

Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening,

(Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay only a

minute longer.)

Do I contradict myself?

Very well then I contradict myself,

(I am large, I contain multitudes.)

"Sam, we're at the ski resort! Let's go!" Hailey hops down from the bed, doll in hand, and I slide the book back into the shelf.

The Beckett family doesn't know who I really am. I contain multitudes, too.

I wish I was better.

A/N i love walt whitman aka walty boy. soft and short-ish chapter here, 25 will be posted in the next couple days ;) also thank you all for 70k reads!!!