After I said all that, we were quiet for a long time, until finally he said,
“My mom was in the hospital for, like, six months after her aneurysm. Did you know that?”
I shook my head. “I guess she was kind of in a coma or whatever—like, she couldn’t talk or anything, or feed herself,
but sometimes if you put your hand in her hand, she would squeeze.
Noah was too young to visit much, but I got to. Every single day after school, Rosa would take me to the hospital
and I would lie in bed with her and we would watch Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on the TV in her room.
“Her eyes were open and everything, and she could breathe by herself, and I would lie there next to her and watch TMNT,
and I would always have the Iron Man in my hand, my fingers squeezed into a fist around it,
and I would put my fist in her hand and wait, and sometimes she would squeeze, her fist around my fist,
and when it happened, it made me feel... I don’t know... loved, I guess.
Anyway, I remember once Dad came, and he stood against the wall at the edge of the room like she was contagious or something.
At one point, she squeezed my hand, and I told him.
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