The Beautiful Between - Alyssa B. Sheinmel [46]
“What’s this all about?”
“Okay.” Jeremy looks ridiculously excited. “Don’t take this the wrong way. Okay. If you don’t like this idea, I promise not to bring it up again.”
“Okay,” I say warily.
“I’m sure I can find things out for you.”
I look at him blankly. I have no idea what he’s talking about. My cluelessness must be written on my face, because Jeremy says, “About your father, I mean.”
“What about my father?” I say, still dumb.
“About his … about what happened to him. I’m sure I can find out more for you. From the oncologist, maybe.”
I look hard at Jeremy. Part of me is angry. It will be easier for him to find out than it has been for me.
But Jeremy’s right: he can find things out for me. What’s more important to me—knowing the truth, or the way I find the truth? I’m not really sure what my answer is, actually. Because all this has to do with how I feel about the truth having been kept from me. How I feel about being left in the dark regarding the death of my own father, about my family.
So I have a decision to make. Do I want to find out because I’m ashamed that I don’t know, or do I want to find out because I just have to know? I think I need to know. I’ll take Jeremy’s help. He can ask questions I can’t ask. If nothing else, he’ll get me that much closer.
“Sternin?” I’ve been quiet for a few seconds, considering. Jeremy must think I’m mad, because he continues, “Only if you want me to. If you want me to stay out of it, I promise I won’t ever bring it up again—”
I interrupt: “No, Jer. It’s a good idea. You’re right.”
“I’m right?”
“You might be able to find something out. You already knew more than I did.” He nods. “At least, maybe you can find something out from the oncologist, get him to draw a comparison between your father and Kate.”
I immediately wish I hadn’t said this, but Jeremy enthusiastically agrees. “Exactly. I figured I could say, Remember that girl you mentioned, the one whose dad had leukemia like Kate? Let on that I think that’s how he died, and so I’m upset about Kate, having the same kind of sick, and play on the doctor’s sympathy—”
I look at Jeremy, my eyes wide. I can’t believe he just said that.
“Listen, Sternin,” he says, “I’m sorry, but I could use the distraction. It’d be nice for the cancer to be about something else, just for a while.”
“Okay,” I say, and nod. And I completely understand what he means. For me, investing myself in Jeremy’s life and family has been a distraction from my situation, so I can’t blame him for using my situation to distract him from his. At least he’s being honest about it. That’s more than I can say for myself.
Turns out, the oncologist, the Coles’ dear family friend, Dr. Graham Kleinbaum, is having dinner at the Coles’ next Wednesday. He’s not Kate’s doctor, because the Coles wanted a pediatric specialist, but Jeremy says his parents pretty much look to him before making any decisions about Kate’s treatment. In the last few weeks, there’s been some talk about a bone marrow transplant for Kate.
At first I think Jeremy is going to invite me over for dinner that night. I have dinner there all the time as it is; it wouldn’t be odd or anything if I was there. But he doesn’t, and I’m relieved. First of all, I don’t think Jeremy would be able to ask the doctor questions about my father if I was there, and second of all, I don’t know how I would be able to stop myself from asking questions, and that would be the worst humiliation of all—interrogating my father’s oncologist in front of the Coles. What if he remembered who I was and just started talking about it on his own, expecting that I would know about my father’s disease and I’d have to play dumb—or actually, play smart, pretending to know more than I do?
Jeremy comes over late on Wednesday. I pull on my coat and rush downstairs. I don’t know what I think I’m going to learn, since I’m so sure my father didn’t die of cancer after all, but I’m anxious, and the elevator has never seemed