Read Online 16 Things I Thought Were True by Janet Gurtler - Free Book Online Page A

“Sure.” He hurries out of the hospital room as if he’s grateful to have something to do.
    â€œPoor Josh,” she says when he’s out the door. “This is hard for him. He doesn’t like hospitals. You never know how you’re going to react to stuff like this.” She smiles. “Like you, Jake. You’re handling this so well. I always said still waters run deeper.”
    He stares out after his twin. “Josh doesn’t like the smells and…”
    â€œThe sick people?” I add.
    â€œIt’s okay. George, your dad, is the same way,” she says to Jake. “He almost fainted when I gave birth.” Mom looks right at him. “Why don’t you go help Josh? Give me a minute with your sister.”
    Jake looks at me, raises his eyebrows, then glances back at her. “Help him get ice?”
    Mom nods.
    He glares at me. “Is everything okay?”
    â€œFine,” Mom says. “Just give us a minute.”
    â€œSure. Okay.” He slowly walks out of the room.
    We both watch him leave.
    â€œHe was in the chapel during your surgery,” I tell her.
    She smiles. “Jake is my sensitive one.”
    I wonder which one I am.
    â€œThe nurse said they’re going to send me home tomorrow,” she says. “As long as my insertion site heals okay. In and out.” She stares off into space.
    â€œI wish they’d keep you longer. Just to be safe. It seems so fast,” I tell her.
    She turns to look at me. “That’s the way it is, less expensive in the long run. I’ll be seeing my own doctor regularly.”
    We’re both quiet again. It’s obvious we’re thinking about the same thing—the elephant in the room. The name. Such a simple name. Such a complicated name.
    â€œI found the papers,” I tell her. “In your jewelry box. With his name. Bob White.”
    She sighs. “Morgan. I really thought…I didn’t think I would make it. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. Allowed you to find that document about your dad.”
    â€œYou mean Bob White?”
    She winces. I press my lips tight, wishing I had my ChapStick. He’s not my dad. Dad is something you earn. “Well,” I say quietly, “I didn’t find him—not yet. But I can’t pretend I don’t know his name.”
    She sighs deeply. “I know.”
    â€œWhy’d you never tell me before?”
    She stares at me and I stare back. And then she pats the bed beside her. I half sit, not wanting to get too close. She reaches for my hand, but I move it away and scratch my head.
    â€œI love you,” she says.
    I blink back a sudden flood of tears and look away. Now she says it back? I wait, but she doesn’t fill the silence. “I know you do. But I still had a right to know. Even if he didn’t want me. I had a right to know his name.” My toes tingle. I feel it starting there. The anger. I focus it toward him. I can hate him with much less guilt because I don’t know him. It’s harder to aim it at her.
    â€œI can help you with what the insurance doesn’t cover,” I tell her. “I have savings.”
    â€œAre you crazy?” she asks.
    I frown at the intensity in her voice. “Don’t get worked up. It’s okay.”
    â€œYou are not paying for any of this. Your savings are for college. Do not worry about the insurance. One of my kids needs to go to college. Not that I’m not proud of my boys…but I want you to go. I’ll manage. I spoke out of fear before. I thought I might not make it. I didn’t want to burden you with bills when I was dead. I certainly won’t when I’m alive.”
    â€œI can help,” I say again.
    She blows a feeble raspberry. “No. Absolutely not. The money you made is for your future, working with kids.”
    The anger in my toes rises a little. She had George to help with some of the boys’