Love from a to Z

ADAM
MONDAY, MARCH 18
ODDITY:
GETTING THE TRUTH OUT
C
ONNOR CAME OVER ON
M
ONDAY
afternoon, but not on his own. Jacob, Madison, Isaac,
Emma P., and Emma Z. turned up too, with a box of ice cream sandwiches.
We ended up sitting outside on the patio so that Hanna could feel like she
was hanging with us, skipping rope, riding her bike along the boardwalk, or
just doing stuff on the lawn.
Once he knew I’d told Dad, and it was okay for him to tell the others,
Connor had done a message blast about my diagnosis, so now I fielded
what felt like a hundred questions. Questions politely asked and
thoughtfully spaced apart between bites of quickly melting ice cream, but
still kind of wearying.
Emma Z. brought up returning to university, and I didn’t say anything.
Which I thought would get everyone more inquisitive, but thankfully
they started giving their own stories of going back to school after the break.
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Emma P. said, scrunching her ice cream
wrapper into a ball.
The others chimed in, offering their own dates of departure, many of
them leaving Doha tomorrow as well. In a few days, it would be just me left
here. With Hanna and Dad, yay.
But alone with my MS.
I was in this weird space of wanting not to be alone and wanting not to be
crowded, either.
I just wanted the right mix of being with someone I connected to, who
cared, but also let me be.
I spun my trash, folded small, between my fingers. Just origami folding
that plain white wrapper into a perfect tiny square while listening to

---

everyone talk about my illness had been therapeutic.
I twirled it to not think of the future. Of loneliness.
When things fell silent, but not awkward silent, Emma P. looked at
Connor, then at me, and then back at Connor, before speaking. “That’s why
we came by today, Adam. We couldn’t leave without saying good-bye.
Without seeing you.”
“I’ll be here when you guys come back.” I waved at Hanna as she rode
by, trying not to show my discomfort at edging close to the topic of Me,
Alone. “And hopefully everyone will come back to Doha? For the
summer?”
“Let’s take a pic,” Connor said, standing up, holding a plastic bag out to
collect everyone’s trash. “Hey, can your sis take our picture?”
I nodded, thankful for the change in conversation. “Yeah, Hanna’s pretty
good at clicking. Lots of practice.”
“Hanna!” Connor advanced to the stairs leading to the boardwalk, to get
her attention.
Madison and Jacob got up and walked to one of the big white rocks on
the lawn, with Isaac following, taking photos of them with his phone. I’d
heard Madison and Jacob had an account called Long-Distance Love where
they posted their miss-you picture postcards to each other.
Emma Z. unfolded herself from the canvas chair she’d been curled in,
stretched, and wandered away.
Seeing what had just happened, I scratched my elbow.
They’d left Emma P. and me with empty patio furniture.
“Adam, I hope you know that finding out about your MS . . . how much
it affected all of us,” she began. “I cried so much when I heard last night.
But Connor told us not to badger you with messages.”
I continued scratching, nodding to acknowledge her thoughtfulness.
“The thing is, I want to be there for you. If you need anything, just let me
know, okay?” She pulled her legs up and crossed them on the ottoman she
was sitting on. “I mean, I’ll be far away, but in terms of emotional support,
you know?”
“Thanks.”
“You were always there for me, and I’ll never forget that. I still have the
Airbender back brace.” She smiled and then lowered her voice to a whisper.
“Don’t tell anyone, but I took it with me to school in Chicago. It’s in my
dorm right now.”

---

I laughed. “Well, it took me two weeks to finish. I hope it’s framed
somewhere.”
She laughed too. Then blurted, “Adam, you know I’d keep whatever you
made me, right?”
I went back to scratching my elbow. This situation was painful. But she
was looking at me for a response. “Yeah.”
“I don’t know how to say this, but it’s been a long time coming, and now
I feel like I can’t go back without saying it. That you’re important to me.”
“You guys are important to me, too.”
“Just to rest my mind, is there someone else for you?” She spoke softly
and slowly, like she was trying to make it less painful for me, and for her.
For us, I guess.
I was about to quickly blurt, No, no there isn’t anyone, but I don’t want