“Yes, for you,” she said, then smiled.
He laughed, small but real.
She handed him the stuffed dinosaur first.
“It’s a dinosaur,” she said. “One eye is funny, so he might need glasses.”
Tobias touched its crooked face. “I like him.”
“The cake got smushed,” Della added.
“That’s the best side,” he said.
“The cake got smushed.”
A security guard appeared near the doorway.
Nurse Gloria’s smile faded. “I’m sorry. That’s all the time we have.”
Della looked up. “Already?”
The guard kept his voice gentle. “You’re not on the approved list.”
I stepped forward. “She’s 8. She saved her lunch money for this.”
“I know,” he said. “But I have to follow policy.”
“You’re not on the approved list.”
Tobias held the dinosaur tighter.
Della’s chin wobbled. “Can he still eat the cake?”
Nurse Gloria nodded. “I’ll make sure he does.”
In the elevator, Della wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “Why did it feel like we were in trouble?”
“We weren’t,” I said. “Hospital rules, baby girl. I’m sorry.”
“Can he still eat the cake?”
The next day, Nurse Gloria brought Tobias to the garden window. Della stood outside with me and Mrs. Keene and sang “Happy Birthday” with both hands pressed to the glass.
Tobias matched her palms from the other side.
I cried into my sleeve.
I thought that would be the end.
I was wrong.
I cried into my sleeve.
The next morning, Della and I stood barefoot in the wet grass, staring at the black balloon and red box.
“Open it, Syd,” she whispered.
I knelt and lifted the lid.
Inside were Della’s mint tin, a locker key, Tobias’s visitor calendar, and two notes.
I looked at her. “Della, how did he get your tin?”
Her cheeks pinked. “I gave it to him before we left. So he’d remember me.”
“Open it, Syd.”
I turned the tin over. The old label was still underneath: Della’s first name, our street address, and my phone number.
“That’s how they found us,” I said.
Della popped the lid open. “Syd. It’s full.”
The tin that had held $11.40 was stuffed with bills and coins.
My hands shook as I opened Tobias’s note.
“Della came to my window every day,” I read. “Nobody else did.”
“That’s how they found us.”
Della leaned into me.
“Mom and Dad send presents, but they don’t stay. I have a locker full of birthdays. Della gave me the only birthday that felt real.”
I stopped.
“Keep reading,” Della whispered.
“Please open the locker. Please don’t let them take me home if they’re only going to leave me alone there too.”
The second note was on thick, cream-colored paper.
Della leaned into me.
“Sydney,
I found your address on Della’s tin. Tobias asked me to send it back full because she gave me her treasure.
The doctors can’t cure him. They’re trying to keep him comfortable and give him good days.
My husband and I haven’t abandoned our son, but we’ve failed him. We pay bills. We answer doctor calls. We send gifts. Then we leave before he opens them because staying hurts.
Tobias is on borrowed time, and his wish was simple.
Please ask the girl who sang to me, and her sister.
Anna, Tobias’s mom.”
“The doctors can’t cure him.”
Della looked up. “Is she mad at us?”
“No,” I said.
“Are you mad?”
“Yes.”
An hour later, I walked into the hospital with Della’s hand in mine and the red box under my arm.
“Tobias’s mother asked me to come,” I said.
“Is she mad at us?”
A voice behind me said, “I did.”
I turned.
Anna stood near the elevators, twisting her wedding ring. She looked put together from far away and wrecked up close.
“You’re Sydney?” she asked. Then she looked at my sister. “And you’re the sweet little girl who made my son smile.”
Della moved behind my leg. “Is Toby okay?”
“You’re the sweet little girl who made my son smile.”
Anna’s face cracked. “He asked for you this morning.”
I held up the red box. “He asked me not to let you take him home if you’re only going to leave him lonely there too.”
Anna flinched. “He wrote that?”
“Your son thinks strangers care more than you do.”
Anna nodded once. “I know.”
“He wrote that?”
“He has a locker full of unopened gifts.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
She looked toward the elevators. “Because I thought paying the bills and answering doctor calls meant I was still his mother.”
“It meant you were handling paperwork.”
She looked toward the elevators.
“Yes.” Anna swallowed, her eyes filling. “The doctors can’t cure him. When he asks if he’s getting better, I don’t know how to stay in the room.”
“That’s still where you belong.”
“I know.”
“Then start acting like it.”
She wiped her cheek. “That’s why I asked you here. I want to pay for your caregiver training, first aid, a background check, and whatever the hospital requires. Proper pay.”
“I don’t know how to stay in the room.”
“You want to hire me? You don’t even know me.”