MAGGIE AND CHIP
She has read the story to him at least four times, but whenever they’re alone in his hospital room, her parents off even for a few minutes, it’s what he wants to hear.
She sighs. What is it about this book? She reads from the beginning and turns page after page.
She almost feels like she has it memorized.
“But very soon he grew to like it, for the Boy used to talk to him, and made nice tunnels for him under the bedclothes that he said were like the burrows the real rabbits lived in.”
She pauses and looks at Chip, his mouth open. He’s snoring softly.
Their old dynamic comes back to her for a second, and it’s like she thinks he’s joking. She rolls her eyes and wants to flick him or yell “Boo” really loudly and watch him jump. But then it hits her how close he is to what none of them lets themselves think about, and she can’t understand it.
But after this, he’ll be him again, she thinks. No, no. He never will. She looks down at him as he sleeps. At first he tried to resist the morphine, but their mother held his hand and pleaded with him until he finally gave in. “You don’t have to bear this,” she said.
He has a rash on his face, and bruisy splotches on his arms. His skin is pale, like he’s been underwater too long. She reaches down and puts her hand on his forehead. It’s cool. Tears build up in her eyes as she pulls her hand away as gently as she can.
It’s mid-October and outside there are leaves everywhere.
She wonders if she can remember another autumn with this many fallen leaves.
She sees them in piles by the road and falling out of gutters.
They cover roofs and patios and cars. She hears them crunch.
She looks outside; the day is bright, and the sun is shining, but she can tell somehow it’s gotten just a bit colder.
She puts the book down and thinks about the worn bunny. The Boy’s illness.
In Chip’s head, is he the boy or the bunny? Which way does he see himself? He opens one eye and looks up at her.
“Keep reading,” he whispers, and he closes his eye again and smiles. Like he’s laughing at his own joke.