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Transmission
“It’s okay, Mom,” he said, reaching out to touch her arm.
That seemed to be enough of an argument to convince his mother, and just that told Kevin how serious this all was. On any other occasion, he would have expected her to fight. Now it seemed that the fight had been sucked out of her.
They went out to the car in silence. Kevin looked back at the school. The thought hit him that he probably wouldn’t be coming back. He hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye.
“I’m sorry they called you at work,” Kevin said as they sat in the car. He could feel the tension there. His mom didn’t turn the engine on, just sat.
“It’s not that,” she said. “It’s just… it was getting easy to pretend that nothing was wrong.” She sounded so sad then, so deeply hurt. Kevin had gotten used to the expression that meant she was trying to keep from crying. She wasn’t succeeding.
“Are you okay, Kevin?” she asked, even though by then, he was the one holding onto her, as tightly as he could.
“I’m… I wish I didn’t have to leave school,” Kevin said. He’d never thought he would hear himself say that. He’d never thought that anyone would say that.
“We could go back in,” his mother said. “I could tell the principal that I’m going to bring you back here tomorrow, and every day after that, until…”
She broke off.
“Until it gets too bad,” Kevin said. He screwed his eyes tightly shut. “I think maybe it’s already too bad, Mom.”
He heard her hit the dashboard, the dull thud echoing around the car.
“I know,” she said. “I know and I hate it. I hate this disease that’s taking my little boy from me.”
She cried again for a little while. In spite of his attempts to stay strong, Kevin did too. It seemed to take a long time before his mother was calm enough to say anything else.
“They said you saw… planets, Kevin?” she asked.
“I saw it,” Kevin said. How could he explain what it was like? How real it was?
His mother looked over, and now Kevin had the sense of her struggling for the right words to say. Struggling to be comforting and firm and calm, all at the same time. “You get that this isn’t real, right, honey? It’s just… it’s just the disease.”
Kevin knew that he ought to understand it, but…
“It doesn’t feel like that,” Kevin said.
“I know it doesn’t,” his mother said. “And I hate that, because it’s just a reminder that my little boy is slipping away. All of this, I wish I could make it go away.”
Kevin didn’t know what to say to that. He wished it would go away too.
“It feels real,” Kevin said, even so.
His mother was quiet for a long time. When she finally spoke, her voice had the brittle, barely holding it together quality that only arrived since the diagnosis, but now had become far too familiar.
“Maybe… maybe it’s time we took you to see that psychologist.”
CHAPTER THREE
Dr. Linda Yalestrom’s office wasn’t anywhere near as medical looking as all the others Kevin had been in recently. It was her home, for one thing, in Berkeley, with the university close enough that it seemed to back up her credentials as surely as the certificates that were neatly framed on the wall.
The rest of it looked like the kind of home office Kevin expected from TV, with soft furnishings obviously relegated here after some previous move, a desk where clutter had crept in from the rest of the house, and a few potted plants that seemed to be biding their time, ready to take over.
Kevin found himself liking Dr. Yalestrom. She was a short, dark-haired woman in her fifties, whose clothes were brightly patterned and about as far from medical scrubs as it was possible to get. Kevin suspected that might be the point, if she spent a lot of time working with people who had received the worst news possible from doctors already.
“Come sit down, Kevin,” she said with a smile, gesturing to a broad red couch that was well worn with years of people sitting on it. “Ms. McKenzie, why don’t you give us a while? I want Kevin to feel that he can say anything he needs to say. My assistant will get you some coffee.”
His mother nodded. “I’ll be right outside.”
Kevin went to sit on the couch, which turned out to be exactly as comfortable as it appeared. He looked around the room at pictures of fishing trips and vacations. It took him a while to realize something important.
“You’re not in any of the photos in here,” he said.
Dr. Yalestrom smiled at that. “Most of my clients never notice. The truth is, a lot of these are places I always wanted to go, or places I heard were interesting. I put them out because young men like you spend a lot of time staring around the room, doing anything but talk to me, and I figure you should at least have something to look at.”
It seemed a bit like cheating to Kevin.
“If you work with people who are dying a lot,” he said, “why do you have pictures of places you always wanted to go? Why put it off, when you’ve seen…”
“When I’ve seen how quickly it can all end?” Dr. Yalestrom asked, gently.
Kevin nodded.
“Maybe because of the wonderful human ability to know that and still procrastinate. Or maybe I have been to some of these places, and the reason I’m not in the pictures is just that I think one of me staring down at people is quite enough.”
Kevin wasn’t sure if those were good reasons or not. They didn’t seem like enough, somehow.
“Where would you go, Kevin?” Dr. Yalestrom asked. “Where would you go if you could go anywhere?”
“I don’t know,” he replied.
“Well, think about it. You don’t have to let me know right away.”
Kevin shook his head. It was strange, talking to an adult this way. Generally, when you were thirteen, conversations came down to questions or instructions. With the possible exception of his mom, who was at work a lot of the time anyway, adults weren’t really interested in what someone his age had to say.
“I don’t know,” he repeated. “I mean, I never really thought I’d get to go anywhere.” He tried to think about places he might like to go, but it was hard to come up with anywhere, especially now that he only had a few months to do it. “I feel as though, wherever I think of, what’s the point? I’ll be dead pretty soon.”
“What do you think the point is?” Dr. Yalestrom asked.
Kevin did his best to think of a reason. “I guess… because pretty soon is not the same thing as now?”
The psychologist nodded. “I think that’s a good way to put it. So, is there anything that you would like to do in the pretty soon, Kevin?”
Kevin thought about it. “I guess… I guess I should tell Luna what’s happening.”
“And who’s Luna?”
“She’s my friend,” Kevin said. “We don’t go to the same school anymore, so she hasn’t seen me collapse or anything, and I haven’t called in a few days, but…”
“But you should tell her,” Dr. Yalestrom said. “It isn’t healthy to push away your friends when things get bad, Kevin. Not even to protect them.”
Kevin swallowed back a denial, because it was kind of what he was doing. He didn’t want to inflict this on Luna, didn’t want to hurt her with the news of what was going to happen. It was part of the reason he hadn’t called her in so long.
“What else?” Dr. Yalestrom said. “Let’s try places again. If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”
Kevin tried to pick among all the places in the room, but the truth was that there was only one landscape that kept springing into his head, with colors no normal camera could capture.
“It would sound stupid,” he said.
“There’s nothing wrong with sounding stupid,” Dr. Yalestrom assured him. “I’ll tell you a secret. People often think that everyone else but them is special. They think that other people must be cleverer, or braver, or better, because only they can see the parts of themselves that aren’t those things. They worry that everyone else says the right thing, and they sound stupid. It’s not true though.”
Even so, Kevin sat there for several seconds, examining the upholstery of the couch in detail. “I… I see places. One place. I guess it’s the reason that I had to come here.”
Dr. Yalestrom smiled. “You’re here because an illness like yours can create a lot of odd effects, Kevin. I’m here to help you cope with them, without them dominating your life. Would you like to tell me more about the things you see?”
Again, Kevin made a detailed examination of the couch, learning its topography, picking at a tiny speck of lint sticking up from the rest. Dr. Yalestrom was silent while he did it; the kind of silence that felt as though it was sucking words up out of him, giving them a space to fall into.
“I see a place where nothing is quite the same as here. The colors are wrong, the animals and the plants are different,” Kevin said. “I see it destroyed… at least, I think I do. There’s fire and heat, a bright flash. There’s a set of numbers. And there’s something that feels like a countdown.”
“Why does it feel like a countdown?” Dr. Yalestrom asked.
Kevin shrugged. “I’m not sure. Because the pulses are getting closer together, I guess?”
The psychologist nodded, then went over to her desk. She came back with paper and pencils.
“How are you at art?” she asked. “No, don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter if this is a great work of art or not. I just want you to try to draw what you see, so that I can get a sense of what it’s like. Don’t pay too much attention to it, just draw. Can you do that for me, Kevin?”
Kevin shrugged. “I’ll try.”
He took the pencils and paper, trying to bring the landscape that he’d seen to mind, trying to remember every detail of it. It was hard to do, because although the numbers stayed in his head, it felt as though he had to dive down deep into himself to pull up the images. They were below the surface, and to get at them, Kevin had to pull back into himself, concentrating on nothing else, letting the pencil flow over the paper almost automatically…
“Okay, Kevin,” she said, taking the pad away before Kevin could get a good look at what he’d drawn. “Let’s see what you’ve…”
He saw the look of shock that crossed her face, so brief that it almost wasn’t there. It was there though, and Kevin had to wonder what it would take to shock someone who heard stories about people dying every day.
“What is it?” Kevin asked. “What did I draw?”
“You don’t know?” Dr. Yalestrom asked.
“I was trying not to think too much,” Kevin said. “Did I do something wrong?”
Dr. Yalestrom shook her head. “No, Kevin, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
She held out Kevin’s drawing. “Would you like to take a look at what you produced? Perhaps it will help you to understand things.”
She held it out folded, in just the tips of her fingers, as if she didn’t want to touch it more than necessary. That made Kevin worry just a little. What could he have drawn that would make an adult react like that? He took it, unfolding it.
A drawing of a spaceship sat there, only “drawing” probably wasn’t the right word for it. This was more like a blueprint, complete in every detail, which seemed impossible in the time Kevin had to draw. He’d never even seen this before, but here it was, on the page, looking giant and flat, like a city perched on a disk. There were smaller disks around it, like worker bees around a queen.
The detail meant that there was something neat, almost clinical, about the way it was drawn, but there was more to it than that. There was something about the geometry of it that was just… wrong, somehow, seeming to have depths and angles to it that shouldn’t have been possible to capture just in a sketch like this.
“But this…” Kevin didn’t know what to say. Didn’t this prove what was happening? Did anyone think he could have just made something like this up?
Apparently, Dr. Yalestrom wasn’t convinced though. She took back the picture, folding it carefully as though she didn’t want to have to look at it. Kevin suspected that the strangeness of it was too much for her.
“I think it’s important that we talk about the things you’re seeing,” she said. “Do you think those things are real?”
Kevin hesitated. “I’m… not sure. They feel real, but a lot of people now have told me that they can’t be.”
“It makes sense,” Dr. Yalestrom said. “What you’re feeling is very common.”
“It is?” What he was experiencing didn’t feel very common at all. “I thought that my illness was rare.”
Dr. Yalestrom moved over to her desk, placing Kevin’s drawing in a file. She picked up a tablet and started to make notes. “Is it important that other people shouldn’t experience what you’re experiencing, Kevin?”
“No, it’s not that,” Kevin said. “It was just that Dr. Markham said that this disease only affects a few people.”
“That’s true,” Dr. Yalestrom agreed. “But I see a lot of people who experience hallucinations of some kind for other reasons.”
“You think I’m going crazy,” Kevin guessed. Everyone else seemed to. Even his mom, presumably, since she’d been the one to bring him here after he’d started talking about them. He didn’t feel like he was going crazy, though.
“That’s not a word I like to use here,” Dr. Yalestrom said. “I think that often, the behavior that we label crazy is there for a good reason. It’s just that often, those reasons only make sense to the person concerned. People will do things to protect themselves from situations that are too difficult to handle, which seem to be… unusual.”
“You think that’s what I’m doing with these visions?” Kevin asked. He shook his head. “They’re real. I’m not making them up.”
“Can I tell you what I think, Kevin? I think a part of you might be attached to these ‘visions’ because it’s helping you to think that your illness might be happening for some kind of greater good. I think that maybe these ‘visions’ are actually you trying to make sense of your illness. The imagery in them… there’s a strange place that isn’t like the normal world. Could that represent the way things have changed?”
“I guess,” Kevin said. He wasn’t convinced. The things he’d seen weren’t about some world where he didn’t have his disease. They were about a place he didn’t understand at all.
“Then you have the sense of impending doom with fire and light,” Dr. Yalestrom said. “The sense of things coming to an end. You even have a countdown, complete with numbers.”
The numbers weren’t a part of the countdown; that was just the slow pulsing, growing faster bit by bit. Kevin suspected that he wasn’t going to convince her of that now. When adults had decided what the truth of something was, he wasn’t going to be able to change their minds.
“So what can I do?” Kevin asked. “If you think they aren’t real, shouldn’t I want to get rid of them?”
“Do you want to get rid of them?” Dr. Yalestrom asked.
Kevin thought about that. “I don’t know. I think they might be important, but I didn’t ask for them.”
“The same way that you didn’t ask to be diagnosed with a degenerative brain disease,” Dr. Yalestrom said. “Maybe those two things are linked, Kevin.”
Kevin had already been thinking that his visions were linked to the disease in some way. That maybe it had changed his brain enough to be receptive to the visions. He didn’t think that was what the psychiatrist meant, though.
“So what can I do?” Kevin asked again.
“There are things you can do, not to make them go away, but at least to be able to cope.”
“Such as?” Kevin asked. He had to admit to a moment of hope at the thought. He didn’t want all of this going around and around in his head. He hadn’t asked to be the one receiving messages that no one else understood, and that just made him look crazy when he spoke about them.
“You can try to find things to distract yourself from the hallucinations when they come,” Dr. Yalestrom said. “You can try reminding yourself that it isn’t real. If you’re in doubt, find ways to check. Maybe ask someone else if they’re seeing the same thing. Remember, it’s okay to see whatever you see, but how you react to it is up to you.”
Kevin guessed he could remember all that. Even so, it did nothing to quiet the faint pulse of the countdown, thrumming in the background, getting faster a little at a time.
“And I think you need to tell the people who don’t know,” Dr. Yalestrom said. “It isn’t fair to them to keep them in the dark about this.”
She was right.
And there was one person he needed to let know more than anyone else.
Luna.
CHAPTER FOUR
“So,” Luna said, as she and Kevin made their way along one of the paths of the Lafayette Reservoir Recreation Area, dodging around the tourists and the families enjoying their day out, “why have you been avoiding me?”
Trust Luna to get straight to the point. It was one of the things Kevin liked about her. Not that he liked her liked her. People always seemed to assume that. They thought because she was pretty, and blonde, and probably cheerleader material if she didn’t think all that was stupid, that of course they would be boyfriend and girlfriend. They just assumed that it was how the world worked.
They weren’t together. Luna was his best friend. The person he spent the most time with, outside of school. Probably the one person in the world he could talk to about absolutely anything.
Except, it turned out, this.
“I haven’t been…” Kevin trailed off in the face of Luna’s stare. She was good at stares. Kevin suspected that she probably practiced. He’d seen everyone from bullies to rude store owners back down rather than have her stare at them any longer. Faced with that stare, it was impossible to lie to her. “All right, I have, but it’s hard, Luna. I have something… well, something I don’t know how to tell you.”
“Oh, don’t be stupid,” Luna said. She found an abandoned soda can and kicked it down the path, flicking it from foot to foot with the kind of skill that came from doing it far too often. “I mean, how bad can it be? Are you moving away? Are you changing schools again?”
Maybe she caught something in his expression, because she fell silent for a few seconds. There was something fragile about that silence, as if both of them were tiptoeing to avoid breaking it. Even so, they had to. They couldn’t just walk like this forever.
“Something bad then?” she said, sending the can into a trash container with a final flick of her foot.
Kevin nodded. Bad was one word for it.
“How bad?”
“Bad,” he said. “The reservoir?”
The reservoir was the place they both went when they wanted to sit down and talk about things. They’d talked about Billy Hames liking Luna when they were nine, and about Kevin’s cat, Tiger, dying when they were ten. None of it seemed like a good preparation for this. He wasn’t a cat.
They made their way down to the edge of the water, looking out at the trees on the far side, the people with their canoes and their paddle boats on the reservoir. Compared to some of the places they went, this was nice. People assumed Kevin was the kid from the wrong side of town leading Luna astray, but she was the one with the knack for squeezing past fences and clambering up derelict buildings, leaving Kevin to follow if he could. Here, there was none of that, just the water and the trees.
“What is it?” Luna asked. She kicked off her shoes and dangled her feet in the water. Kevin didn’t feel like doing the same. Right then, he wanted to run, to hide. Anything to keep from telling her the truth. It felt as though, the longer he could keep from telling Luna, the longer it wasn’t really real.
“Kevin?” Luna said. “You’re worrying me now. Look, if you don’t tell me what it is, then I’m going to call your mom and find out that way.”
“No, don’t do that,” Kevin said quickly. “I’m not sure… Mom isn’t handling this well.”
Luna was looking more worried by the moment. “What’s wrong? Is she sick? Are you sick?”
Kevin nodded at the last one. “I’m sick,” he said. He put his hand on Luna’s shoulder. “I have something called leukodystrophy. I’m dying, Luna.”
He knew he’d said it too quickly. Something like that, there should be a whole big explanation, a proper build-up, but honestly, that was the part of it that mattered.
She stared at him, shaking her head in obvious disbelief. “No, you can’t be, that’s…”
She hugged him then, tight enough that Kevin could barely breathe.
“Tell me it’s a joke. Tell me it’s not real.”
“I wish it weren’t,” Kevin said. He wished that more than anything right then.
Luna pulled back, and Kevin could see her screwing her features tight with the effort of not crying. Normally, Luna was good at not crying about things. Now, though, he could see it taking everything she had.
“This… how long?” she asked.
“They said maybe six months,” Kevin said.
“And that was days ago, so it’s less now,” Luna shot back. “And you’ve been having to cope with it on your own, and…” She faded into silence as the sheer enormity of it obviously hit her.
Kevin could see her looking out at the people on the reservoir, watching them with their small boats and their quick forays into the water. They seemed so happy there. She stared at them as if they were the part she couldn’t believe, not the illness.
“It doesn’t seem fair,” she said. “All these people, just going on as if the world is the same, going about having fun when you’re dying.”
Kevin smiled sadly. “What are we supposed to do? Tell them all to stop having fun?”
He realized the danger in saying that slightly too late as Luna leapt to her feet, cupped her hands to her mouth, and yelled at the top of her voice.
“Hey, all of you, you have to stop! My friend is dying, and I demand that you stop having fun at once!”
A couple of people looked around, but no one stopped. Kevin suspected that hadn’t been the point. Luna stood there for several seconds, and this time, he was the one to hug her, holding her while she cried. That was enough of a rarity that the sheer shock value of it held Kevin there. Luna shouting at people, behaving in ways that they would never expect from someone like her, was normal. Luna breaking down wasn’t.
“Feel better?” he asked after a while.
She shook her head. “Not really. What about you?”
“Well, it’s nice to know that there’s someone who would try to stop the world for me,” he said. “You know the worst part?”
Luna managed another smile. “Not being able to spell what’s killing you?”
Kevin could only return that smile. Trust Luna to know that he needed her to be her usual self, making fun of him.
“I can, I practiced. The worst part is that all this means no one believes me when I tell them that I’ve been seeing things. They think it’s all just the illness.”
Luna cocked her head to one side. “What kind of things?”
Kevin explained to her about the strange landscapes he’d been seeing, the fire wiping it clean, the sensation of a countdown.
“That…” Luna began when he was finished. She didn’t seem to know how to end though.
“I know, it’s crazy, I’m crazy,” Kevin said. Even Luna didn’t believe him.
“You didn’t let me finish,” Luna said, drawing in a breath. “That… is so cool.”
“Cool?” Kevin repeated. It hadn’t been the response he expected, even from her. “Everyone else thinks I’m going crazy, or my brain is melting, or something.”
“Everyone else is stupid,” Luna declared, although, to be fair, that seemed to be her default setting for life. To her, everyone was stupid until proven otherwise.
“So you believe me?” Kevin said. Even he wasn’t completely sure anymore, after everything people had said to him.
Luna held onto his shoulders, looking him squarely in the eyes. With another girl, Kevin might have thought she was about to kiss him. Not with Luna, though.
“If you tell me that these visions are real, then they’re real. I believe you. And being able to see alien worlds is definitely cool.”
Kevin’s eyes widened a little at that. “What makes you think that it’s an alien world?”
Luna stepped back with a shrug. “What else is it going to be?”
When she asked that, Kevin got the feeling that she was every bit as stunned by all this as he was. She just did a better job of hiding it.
“Maybe…” she guessed, “…maybe all this has changed your brain, so that it has a direct line to this alien place?”
If Luna ever acquired a superpower, it would probably be the ability to leap tall conclusions in a single bound. Kevin liked that about her, especially when it meant that she was the one person who might believe him, but even so, it felt like a lot to decide, so quickly.
“You know how crazy that sounds, right?” he said.
“No crazier than the idea that the world is just going to snatch my friend away for no good reason,” Luna shot back, her fists clenched in a way that suggested she would happily fight it over the issue. Or maybe just clenched with the effort of not crying again. Luna tended to get angry, or make jokes, or do crazy things rather than be upset. Right then, Kevin couldn’t blame her.
He watched her coming down from whatever nearly crying space she was in, winding down from it piece by piece and forcing a smile into the space instead.
“So, terrible disease, cool visions of alien worlds… is there anything else you aren’t telling me?”
“Just the numbers,” Kevin said.
Luna looked at him with obvious annoyance. “You get that you weren’t supposed to say yes there?”
“I wanted to tell you everything,” Kevin said, although he guessed it was probably a bit late now. “Sorry.”
“Okay,” Luna said. Again, Kevin had the sense of her working to process it all. “Numbers?”
“I see them too,” Kevin said. He repeated them from memory. “23h 06m 29.283s, −05° 02′ 28.59.”
“Okay,” Luna said. She pursed her lips. “I wonder what they mean.”
That they might not mean anything seemed not to occur to her. Kevin loved that about her.
She had her phone out. “It’s not right for a license plate, and it would be weird for a password. What else?”
Kevin hadn’t thought about it, at least not with the kind of directness that Luna seemed to be applying to the problem.
“Maybe like an item number, a serial number?” Kevin suggested.
“But there are hours and minutes there,” Luna said. She seemed utterly caught up in the problem of what it might mean. “What else?”
“Maybe like a delivery time and a location?” Kevin suggested. “Those second parts sound like they might be coordinates.”
“It’s not quite right for a map reference,” Luna said. “Maybe if I just Google it… oh, cool.”
“What?” Kevin asked. One look at Luna’s face said that they’d hit the jackpot.
“When you type that string of numbers into a search engine, you only get results about one thing,” Luna said. She made it sound so certain like that. She turned her phone to show him, the pages set out in a neat row. “The Trappist 1 star system.”
Kevin could feel his excitement building. More than that, he could feel his hope building. Hope that this might really mean something, and that it wasn’t just his illness, no matter what anyone said. Hope that it might actually be real.
“Why would I see those numbers, though?” he asked.
“Maybe because the Trappist system is supposed to be one of the ones that have a chance of harboring life?” Luna said. “From what it says here, there are several planets there in what we think is a habitable zone.”
She said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. The idea of planets that might have life seemed like too much to be a coincidence when Kevin had seen that life. Or seen some strange life, at least.
“You need to talk to someone about this,” Luna declared. “You’re… like, the first proof of extraterrestrial contact, or something. Who were those people looking for aliens, the scientists? I saw a thing about them on TV.”
“SETI?” Kevin said.
“Those are the ones,” Luna said. “Aren’t they based in San Francisco, or San Jose, or something?”
Kevin hadn’t known that, but the more he thought about it, the more the idea tugged at him.
“You have to go, Kevin,” Luna said. “You have to at least talk to them.”
***
“No,” his mother said, setting her coffee down so firmly it spilled. “No, Kevin, absolutely not!”
“But Mom—”
“I’m not driving you to San Francisco so that you can bother a bunch of nutjobs,” his mother said.
Kevin held out his phone, showing the information about SETI on it. “They aren’t crazy,” he said. “They’re scientists.”
“Scientists can be crazy too,” his mother said. “And this whole idea… Kevin, can’t you just accept that you’re seeing things that aren’t there?”
That was the problem; it would be all too easy to accept it. It would be easy to tell himself that this wasn’t real, but there was something nagging away at the back of his brain that said it would be a really bad idea if he did. The countdown was still going, and Kevin suspected that he needed to talk to someone who would believe him before it reached its end.
“Mom, the numbers I told you I was seeing… they turned out to be the location for a star system.”
“There are so many stars out there that I’m sure any random string of numbers would connect to one of them,” his mother said. “It would be the same as the mass of the star or… or, I don’t know enough about stars to know what else, but it would be something.”
“I don’t mean that,” Kevin said. “I mean it was exactly the same. Luna put the numbers in and the Trappist 1 system was the first thing to come out. The only thing to come out.”
“I should have known that Luna would be involved,” his mother said with a sigh. “I love that girl, but she has too much imagination for her own good.”
“Please, Mom,” Kevin said. “This is real.”
His mother reached out to put her hands on his shoulders. When had she started having to reach up to do that? “It’s not, Kevin. Dr. Yalestrom said that you were having trouble accepting all this. You have to understand what’s going on, and I have to help you to accept it.”
“I know I’m dying, Mom,” Kevin said. He shouldn’t have put it like that, because he could see the tears rising in his mother’s eyes.
“Do you? Because this—”
“I’ll find a way to get there,” Kevin promised. “I’ll take a bus if I have to. I’ll take a train into the city and walk. I have to at least talk to them.”
“And get laughed at?” His mother pulled away, not looking at him. “You know that’s what will happen, right, Kevin? I’m trying to protect you.”
“I know you are,” Kevin said. “And I know that they’ll probably laugh at me, but I have to at least try, Mom. I have the feeling that this is really important.”
