“He’s not going to make it, anyway,” his wife said in a distant, cold voice. “You can come talk to the doctor yourself if you don’t believe me. There are carers, all the facilities he needs. This palliative care exists for a reason; it’s what everyone does…”
Ethan was born two months premature and was immediately taken to intensive care. At first, they didn’t say much, but then there was a glimmer of hope—he started breathing on his own and was gaining weight. When he was discharged, little Ethan was still so tiny that David was afraid to hold him, fearing he might harm him somehow. When Ethan woke up and cried softly at night, Sarah wouldn’t get up, so David had to learn to cope. She didn’t want to take him to the doctors either, claiming it was all their fault, despite her perfect checkups. Was this normal? Three months old, and he couldn’t even hold his head up.
David made appointments with doctors, tried to understand the complex medical terms, had tests done with his son, closing his eyes like a child while the nurse searched for a vein. In the end, he even reached genetic specialists who explained that Ethan could be helped, but he needed special medication. That’s why David took on a distant job; a friend had long been encouraging him, as they paid well, but Sarah always said no. Now, he had no choice. Thinking Sarah was taking care of things at home, he left, but it turned out differently. His grandmother kept silent, though he sensed she was hiding something.
“It’s fine, son, just keep working,” she reassured.
It turned out, all that time, it was his grandmother visiting Ethan in the hospital, talking to him, smoothing cream on him, and doing massages. Sarah had returned to work and hadn’t told them. She only confessed when David informed her he’d be home for a month.
“Sarah, he’s our son!” David protested. “What’s with this palliative care? That’s why I’m working; the doctor mentioned…”
“Lucky you with your miracles!” Sarah interrupted. “Have you even seen him? You’ve been away for months, so don’t tell me what I should do! I’m still young and want to live my life. I could have another child. I don’t want to spend my entire life changing nappies!”
Sarah’s younger brother had cerebral palsy, and when David met her, he admired how delicate Sarah cared for him, lifting her brother into his wheelchair and reading books aloud to him. That was why he loved her. But it seemed Sarah had enough love only for her brother.
“If you don’t bring our son home, I’ll file for divorce,” David threatened.
“Go ahead! Don’t scare me. I’ve lived well without you this long and will continue to.”
David didn’t think she’d actually leave, but Sarah left before he even got back. She handed in the keys to David’s grandmother, who’d already long suspected but never told David—Sarah had found someone else during those months.
“Don’t worry, son; we’ll manage. I’ll help you with Ethan, but you’ll have to find a job here—I can’t do it alone.”
David knew this too—his grandmother had been unwell for a long time and needed care herself, but how could he repay her? He couldn’t be in two places at once.
His grandmother raised David. His mother, a successful singer, left him with his grandmother for a month but never came back. She sent money regularly while he was in school, but after that, she must’ve thought he’d manage on his own. In his youth, he believed his mother loved him but lived a complicated life of concerts, shootings, and fans… He even went to her concert once, bought a massive bouquet of roses, and dreamed of giving it to her, imagining her recognizing him and announcing from the stage, “This is my son!”
But it didn’t go that way. At first, she didn’t notice him, then accepted the bouquet without a glance and tossed it aside. David had spent nearly all his salary on those flowers. After the concert, he struggled to reach backstage to explain he was her son, but she didn’t let him in. She asked to pass along that she was tired and would call. He waited a whole month by the phone, but the call never came.
Now, he didn’t even think about her. If he heard her songs on the radio, he quickly switched channels, although he once knew them all by heart. His grandmother had been both mother and father to him. Now, she cared for little Ethan, allowing David to work a job with a manageable schedule so she wouldn’t get too exhausted. Sarah didn’t even bother calling, worse than his mother—at least she pretended her child mattered sometimes.
“David, I dreamt so vividly last night,” his grandmother told him one day. “Your granddad, bless his soul, asked me to fetch him water from the well. I said, ‘How can I? My legs don’t work!’ But he replied, ‘Here, everyone walks.’ I looked down and saw grass—lush green and soft as down. I walked, and my legs glided without pain! I drew water and looked into the well one last time. I saw you in a suit and tie beside a lovely girl, dimples on her cheeks, wearing a veil. I sense it’s prophetic—you’ll find yourself a good wife, unlike that flirt!”
“Granny, what wife? If his own mother didn’t want to care for Ethan, who would?”
The next day, his grandmother didn’t wake up. Maybe her dream was prophetic, just not in the way he hoped—she’d gone to bring water to his granddad, not take care of little Ethan.
David didn’t know what to do next. His mother helped with the funeral, she even came herself, but they still incurred expenses, and he felt ashamed to ask her. But weeks later, she called and said:
“I’ve found a carer for your son. I’ll handle the payment, don’t worry.”
David was surprised by such generosity and wanted to refuse, insisting he needed nothing from her, but reconsidered—pride had no place when his son’s medicine was running out.
He expected an experienced older woman like those he’d frequently seen in hospitals during Ethan’s visits, all reminiscent of his younger grandmother—businesslike, straightforward, skilled. But, it seemed, his mother cut costs—sending a recent graduate who immediately admitted this was her first job.
“Don’t worry, I’ve gone through special courses and know what to do,” she said confidently though her voice wavered.
David contested calling his mother and declaring the girl wouldn’t manage with Ethan, but talking to her was the last thing he wanted. So, he decided to wait—perhaps these courses were effective.
Her name was Alice, and she called every half hour.
“Dave, it’s normal for him to hiccup?”
“Hold him upright. And place something warm on his back, perhaps an ironed towel.”
“Dave, his breathing’s so labored; I’m scared!”
“Alice, remember about the inhaler…?”
And it went on similarly.
But after a few weeks, she settled in and seemed to handle things better. David took another job since her working hours ended at six and he needed time to get back. He worked on a construction site, where hours were flexible, though pay was under the table. They promised decent money, but…
Weekends were now his time with his son—Alice couldn’t work weekends, even for extra pay, as she studied Chinese—talking about wanting to intern there and learn acupuncture. Alice seemed naïve, not like his grandmother—who believed everything on TV; Alice believed everything online.
However, on Ethan’s birthday, Alice showed up even on her day off—bringing a balloon Ethan adored and a homemade sweater. David felt touched and invited her for tea—he’d bought a cake for the occasion. They all went out together later—dressed Ethan in the sweater, placed him in the stroller, and tied the balloon to the handle so he could watch. David knew his son might not see another birthday, and it made breathing hard. But when he walked with him down the sunlit street, the balloon bobbing in the gentle autumn breeze, he felt good.
He noticed Sarah later, only when they paused at a crosswalk and his eyes caught her painted face. With similar friends around her, they seemed headed to some event. Sarah didn’t spot him immediately, but when she did, her face flushed and blotched. She turned abruptly, said something to her group, and hurried across the street.
“Who’s that?” Alice asked, catching on to his tense focus.
David let out a slow breath and replied, “No one.”
“Good,” she said, smiling.
He hadn’t noticed her smile before. Dimples formed on Alice’s cheeks, reminding him of… something?
The blue balloon bobbed against the equally blue sky, pounding as heartily as his chest.
His pay was delayed. Medicine was dwindling, leaving him no choice but to call his mother.
“Don’t I help enough?” she snapped. “Do you know how much I pay that girl? What kind of man can’t earn for his child’s needs?”
Shame made David breathless. Could he really not support his own son? He turned off his phone, bowing his head, yearning for his grandmother to place a reassuring hand and promise everything would be okay…
Quiet footsteps, then Alice appeared at the kitchen doorway holding an envelope.
“For Ethan’s medicine,” she stated, placing it on the table.
Confused, David wasn’t sure what to make of it.
“Your mother paid me well. I’d been saving for a trip to China, but I don’t need it—I live with my parents and have all I need.”
“But your trip…” David stumbled.
Alice shrugged. “Where would I go now…?”
She smiled shyly, her dimples reappearing, reminding him of his grandmother’s dream. He blushed without understanding why.
“Please take it,” she urged. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“I’ll return it all,” he croaked, cleared his throat, and added, “Since you’re not going to China, maybe you’d join us this weekend? Like before…”
Alice grinned, replying, “I’d love to.”
