which we’d dragged out to the living room so I could watch TV with Mom and Dad.
“Hi, Augustus,” I said. He answered in the voice I’d fallen for.
“Good evening, Hazel Grace. Do you suppose you could find your way to the Literal Heart of Jesus around eight P.M.?”
“Um, yes?” “Excellent. Also, if it’s not too much trouble, please prepare a eulogy.”
“Um,” I said. “I love you,” he said. “And I you,” I answered. Then the phone clicked off.
“Um,” I said. “I have to go to Support Group at eight tonight. Emergency session.”
My mom muted the TV. “Is everything okay?” I looked at her for a second, my eyebrows raised.
“I assume that’s a rhetorical question.” “But why would there—” “Because Gus needs me for some reason. It’s fine. I can drive.”
I fiddled with the BiPAP so Mom would help me take it off, but she didn’t. “Hazel,” she said, “your dad and I feel like we hardly even see you anymore.”
Particularly those of us who work all week,” Dad said. “He needs me,” I said, finally unfastening the BiPAP myself.
We need you, too, kiddo,” my dad said. He took hold of my wrist, like I was a two- year-old about to dart out into the street, and gripped it.
Well, get a terminal disease, Dad, and then I’ll stay home more.“Hazel,” my mom said.
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