Chapter Twenty-Seven Lee
On Lee’s twelfth birthday, his mom made him a cake before his dad came home from work. She hadn’t frosted it very well, so
the red velvet cake showed through the cream cheese frosting, giving it an odd scarlet tinge. She’d decorated it with blue
icing that spelled out HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEE, then added twelve yellow candles and pink flower petals from the garden. It was
ugly, but his mom had made it for him, so he loved it.
“Should we wait until Dad gets home?” Lee asked.
But his mom was already lighting the candles. “This one’s just for the two of us,” she said.
She sang to him, and Lee liked that part because his mom was a very good singer, then she gave each of them a big slice.
His mom was not a very good cook, though. The cake tasted bitter, almost soapy, and left a strange coating on his tongue.
He tried to mash it around his plate so his mom wouldn’t notice he wasn’t eating it, but she watched him until he finished.
Lee was starting to feel tired, so he went upstairs to nap before his dad got home. They were supposed to go out to Lee’s
favorite pizza place for dinner.
When he woke, the light had shifted, darkness cast jaggedly through his blinds, and his stomach was on fire.
It was as if someone had stabbed a screwdriver into his belly and popped him like a balloon. His insides felt blown open and
ruined. He tried to call for his mom, but vomit surged up his throat instead of words, burning down his sheets, and the world
went dark.
The next time he woke, his dad was shaking him back and forth. The floral wallpaper sloshed around inside his skull and bile
was dripping out of his mouth and his tongue felt like it was made of wool. His dad shouted something, but he couldn’t hear
it, and he slid off the edge of the earth again.
Later, he woke up in a hospital with a needle in his arm and his dad looking down at him. He could barely hold his eyes open,
and his mouth tasted like dust and the light stung his eyes. His dad looked like he’d been crying.
“What happened?” Lee asked.
His dad inhaled a shaky breath and forced a smile onto his face. “You just got a little sick,” he said. “You’re gonna be fine.
Everything is back to normal.”
Lee swallowed, even though his throat felt like it was full of broken glass. “Where’s Mom?”
His dad’s smile twitched. “She got a little sick too. She’ll see you soon.”
Lee wasn’t allowed home for three days. His dad brought him peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and sat by his side and never
once mentioned his mom. When Lee saw her on discharge day, she looked so pale that he could see blue veins under her eyes.
“My baby,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. “Mommy’s here now.”
The three of them drove home together, his dad’s posture as stiff as wood while his mom talked about ways to make it up to
Lee for his birthday.
Lee went straight upstairs. It was late, and he wanted to sleep. When he went to draw the shades, he noticed something strange in the backyard.
His mother’s garden had been destroyed.
She used to have a rainbow of flowers, but someone had dug them all up, leaving a gaping hole in the earth.
Lee pulled down the shades, went to bed, and never thought of the garden again.