The ax was winning.

I put my cheek against her. "I don't need anything fancy, Mom. Just something above ground." She took a deep breath, put her arm around me, and said, "That might be possible." I tried to think of some way to be hilarious, because I thought that maybe if I was hilarious, she wouldn't be mad at me anymore and I could be safe again. "With a little elbow room." "What?" "I'm gonna need a little elbow room." She smiled and said, "OK." I sniffled again, because I could tell that it was working. "And a bidet." "Absolutely. One bidet coming up." "And some electrical fencing." "Electrical fencing?" "So that grave robbers won't try to steal all of my jewels." "Jewels?" "Yeah," I said, "I'm gonna need some jewels, too."

We cracked up together, which was necessary, because she loved me again. I pulled my feelings book from under my pillow, flipped to the current page, and downgraded from DESPERATE TO MEDIOCRE. "Hey, that's great!" Mom said, looking over my shoulder. "No," I said, "it's mediocre. And please don't snoop." She rubbed my chest, which was nice, although I had to turn a little so she wouldn't feel that I still had my key on, and that there were two keys.

"Mom?" "Yes." "Nothing."

"What is it, baby?" "Well it's just that wouldn't it be great if mattresses had spaces for your arm, so that when you rolled onto your side, you could fit just right?" "That would be nice." "And good for your back, probably, because it would let your spine be straight, which I know is important." "That is important." "Also, it would make snuggling easier. You know how that arm constantly gets in the way?" "I do." "And making snuggling easier is important." "Very."

MEDIOCRE

OPTIMISTIC, BUT REALISTIC

"I miss Dad." "So do I." "Do you?" "Of course I do." "But do you really?'" "How could you ask that?" "It's just that you don't act like you miss him very much." "What are you talking about?" "I think you know what I'm talking about." "I don't." "I hear you laughing." "You hear me laughing?" "In the living room. With Ron." "You think because I laugh every now and then I don't miss Dad?" I rolled onto my side, away from her.

OPTIMISTIC, BUT REALISTIC

EXTREMELY DEPRESSED

She said, "I cry a lot, too, you know." "I don't see you cry a lot." "Maybe that's because I don't want you to see me cry a lot." "Why not?" "Because that isn't fair to either of us." "Yes it is." "I want us to move on." "How much do you cry?" "How much?" "A spoonful? A cup? A bathtub? If you added it up." "It doesn't work like that." "Like what?"

She said, "I'm trying to find ways to be happy. Laughing makes me happy." I said, "I'm not trying to find ways to be happy, and I won't." She said, "Well, you should." "Why?" "Because Dad would want you to be happy." "Dad would want me to remember him." "Why can't you remember him and be happy?" "Why are you in love with Ron?" "What?" "You're obviously in love with him, so what I want to know is, why? What's so great about him?" "Oskar, did it ever occur to you that things might be more complicated than they seem?" "That occurs to me all the time." "Ron is my friend." "So then promise me you won't ever fall in love again." "Oskar, Ron is going through a lot, too. We help each other. We're friends." "Promise me you won't fall in love." "Why would you ask me to promise that?" "Either promise me you'll never fall in love again, or I'm going to stop loving you." "You're not being fair." "I don't have to be fair! I'm your son!" She let out an enormous breath and said, "You remind me so much of Dad." And then I said something that I wasn't planning on saying, and didn't even want to say. As it came out of my mouth, I was ashamed that it was mixed with any of Dad's cells that I might have inhaled when we went to visit Ground Zero. "If I could have chosen, I would have chosen you!"

She looked at me for a second, then stood up and walked out of the room. I wish she'd slammed the door, but she didn't. She closed it carefully, like she always did. I could hear that she didn't walk away.

EXTREMELY DEPRESSED

INCREDIBLY ALONE

"Mom?"

Nothing.

I got out of bed and went to the door.

"I take it back."

She didn't say anything, but I could hear her breathing. I put my hand on the doorknob, because I thought maybe her hand was on the doorknob on the other side.

"I said I take it back."

"You can't take something like that back."

"Can you apologize for something like that?"

Nothing.

"Do you accept my apology?"

"I don't know."

"How can you not know?"

"Oskar, I don't know."

"Are you mad at me?"

Nothing.

"Mom?"

"Yes."

"Are you still mad at me?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"I was never mad at you."

"What were you?"

"Hurt."

INCREDIBLY ALONE

I GUESS I FELL ASLEEP ON THE FLOOR.

WHEN I WOKE UP, MOM WAS PULLING MY

SHIRT OFF TO HELP ME GET INTO MY PJS,

WHICH MEANS SHE MUST HAVE SEEN ALL

OF MY BRUISES. I COUNTED THEM LAST

NIGHT IN THE MIRROR AND THERE WERE

FORTY-ONE. SOME OF THEM HAVE

GOTTEN BIG, BUT MOST OF THEM ARE

SMALL. I DON'T PUT THEM THERE FOR

HER, BUT STILL I WANT HER TO ASK ME

HOW I GOT THEM (EVEN THOUGH SHE

PROBABLY KNOWS), AND TO FEEL SORRY

FOR ME (BECAUSE SHE SHOULD REALIZE

HOW HARD THINGS ARE FOR ME), AND TO

FEEL TERRIBLE (BECAUSE AT LEAST SOME

OF IT IS HER FAULT), AND TO PROMISE ME

THAT SHE WON'T DIE AND LEAVE ME

ALONE. BUT SHE DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING.

I COULDN'T EVEN SEE THE LOOK IN HER

EYES WHEN SHE SAW THE BRUISES,

BECAUSE MY SHIRT WAS OVER MY HEAD,

COVERING MY FACE LIKE A POCKET, OR A

SKULL.

MY FEELINGS

They are announcing flights over the speakers. We are not listening. They do not matter to us, because we are not going anywhere.

I miss you already, Oskar. I missed you even when I was with you. That's been my problem. I miss what I already have, and I surround myself with things that are missing.