Chapter 2

I didn't answer Arthur's question.

The doctor wouldn't let him keep talking and quickly fitted him with a non-invasive ventilator.

Two in the morning. For now, his condition was stable.

Alice didn't come back.

She only had the driver deliver a cake, saying it was a reward for Arthur when he woke up.

When the nurse opened the box, everyone fell silent.

There was a line of blue writing on the buttercream.

“Wishing Kevin happiness always.”

The driver explained awkwardly: “Must be the wrong one. Assistant Hughes had his birthday yesterday. Ms. Farley ordered two cakes, and this one didn't get finished.”

I closed the lid.

“Take it away.”

Arthur saw it through the glass and tapped the bed rail lightly.

“Daddy, is that from Mommy?”

“No. It came by mistake.”

The light that had just come up in his eyes dimmed again.

“It's okay if I don't have any.”

Before dawn, the lawyer contacted Alice and told her I wanted a divorce.

That morning, Alice's younger brother, Burton Farley, showed up with a few relatives.

He didn't ask about Arthur's condition first. He pulled me out into the hallway.

“My sister says you want a divorce?”

“Yes.”

Burton's face darkened.

“Just because she didn't get to the hospital in time? My sister runs a huge company out there. You can't use a sick kid to force her to circle around you twenty-four hours a day.”

“And Kevin's cat counts as her own business?”

“Kevin's got no father, no mother, and he's stuck by my sister for five years. You're Alice's lawful husband. You can't even show that much tolerance for a person?”

The few relatives stood off to the side, urging me in low voices.

“The child's still sick. Don't stir up trouble.”

“Alice already came. That shows she has you two in her heart.”

“The scoring is just to sort out what matters most in the household. There's no ill will in it.”

I looked at Burton.

“So all of you know about this system?”

He waved it off.

“Of course we know. You and Arthur are always coming to her over every little thing. That's why she came up with the method.”

“Last month, Arthur's drawing contest, you called her a dozen times in a row. Didn't that hold her up from taking Kevin to see his therapist?”

From inside the room came the sound of something hitting the floor.

I pushed the door open and saw Arthur scrambling to pick up the drawing by his bed.

It was the family portrait he'd drawn last month, before the contest.

In the picture, Alice sat in the front row, holding a bouquet of flowers.

But that day, right up until the contest ended, her seat had stayed empty.

Arthur hid the drawing under the blanket and said softly: “Uncle, I won't call Mommy anymore.”

Burton's expression turned uneasy.

“Uncle's not blaming you. I'm telling you to be sensible. Your mom is very busy. You can't go to her for everything.”

I pressed the call button.

“Please see them out.”

Burton said, displeased: “Lawrence, we came to see the child.”

“He needs rest.”

“I'm his uncle.”

“Then you should be asking whether he's in pain, not teaching him how to be less of a bother to his mother.”

Footsteps came from the doorway again.

Alice walked in carrying the cat that had gone missing, Kevin trailing behind her, his eyes faintly red.

“Burton, don't blame Lawrence. It's all my fault.”

He came up to the bed and held out a brand-new tablet to Arthur.

“Uncle Kevin's making it up to you. Last night my cat got sick, and that's why your mom got called away.”

Arthur didn't take it.

Kevin went on gently: “The cat had to stay in the hospital too, but she was so brave, she didn't cry once. Arthur has to be brave too, all right?”

I pushed the tablet back.

“He doesn't need to be compared to a cat.”

Alice handed the cat to the driver, her tone cooling.

“Kevin was only trying to comfort the child. You don't have to put a barb in every sentence.”

Arthur suddenly pulled off one side of his oxygen mask.

“Mommy, I didn't cry.”

He struggled to sit up straight, his pale little face full of the need to please.

“Not even during the shots. The nurse said I was very brave.”

Alice made a small sound.

“That's how it should be.”

Arthur looked up at her, longing in his eyes.

“Then can I earn one more point?”

The room went completely silent.

Alice's brow drew together slightly.

“Who taught you to say that?”

Arthur clutched the bedsheet and answered in a small voice:

“Uncle said, if I'm just a little more sensible, Mommy would give me a seven.”