Finally I finished and said, “Can I be excused?” and they hardly even paused
from their conversation about the strengths and weaknesses of Guinean infrastructure.
I grabbed my phone from my purse on the kitchen counter and checked my recent calls. Augustus Waters.
I went out the back door into the twilight. I could see the swing set, and I thought about walking out there and swinging while I talked to him,
but it seemed pretty far away given that eating tired me.
Instead, I lay down in the grass on the patio’s edge, looked up at Orion, the only constellation I could recognize, and called him.
“Hazel Grace,” he said. “Hi,” I said. “How are you?” “Grand,” he said.
“I have been wanting to call you on a nearly minutely basis, but I have been waiting until I could form a coherent thought in re An Imperial Affliction.”
(He said “in re.” He really did. That boy.)
“And?” I said. “I think it’s, like. Reading it, I just kept feeling like, like.”
“Like?” I asked, teasing him. “Like it was a gift?” he said askingly.
Like you’d given me something important.” “Oh,” I said quietly.
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