It changed Diane, who tried to remain calm even when fear consumed her.
It changed me, because I no longer knew what to say to my friend.
And it changed Aaron most of all.
He was watching the girl he loved struggle through something he could neither understand nor repair.
Still, he never disappeared.
Whenever possible, he went to the hospital after school. He brought Lily snacks, helped with assignments, watched terrible movies beside her bed, and sat quietly when she was too tired to speak.
That morning, as he zipped the bag, I asked, “You’re heading there after school again?”
“She had a difficult treatment yesterday,” he replied. “I promised I’d come by.”
I nodded.
“Please tell Diane I’m thinking of her. I sent her a message last night, but she didn’t say much.”
Aaron hesitated.
“She’s exhausted, Mom.”
“I know.”
But something had been troubling me.
Diane’s messages
