still thought maybe I was missing my last chance to see him, to say good-bye or whatever.
The waiting room was all brown carpet and brown overstuffed cloth chairs.
I sat in a love seat for a while, my oxygen cart tucked by my feet.
I’d worn my Chuck Taylors and my Ceci n’est pas une pipe shirt,
the exact outfit I’d been wearing two weeks before on the Late Afternoon of the Venn Diagram, and he wouldn’t see it.
I started scrolling through the pictures on my phone, a backward flip-book of the last few months,
beginning with him and Isaac outside of Monica’s house and ending with the first picture I’d taken of him, on the drive to Funky Bones.
It seemed like forever ago, like we’d had this brief but still infinite forever. Some infinities are bigger than other infinities.
Two weeks later, I wheeled Gus across the art park toward Funky Bones
with one entire bottle of very expensive champagne and my oxygen tank in his lap.
The champagne had been donated by one of Gus’s doctors—Gus being the kind of person
who inspires doctors to give their best bottles of champagne to children.
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