India was eighteen months older than Jack. When she was little, she used to call Jack her doll. She would play with his hair, putting his curls into bunches, trying to fashion his locks into a ponytail. Jack was besotted by her, the older sister he never had.
“Hello, Uncle Rob. How are you?” India was six, but spoke like a twelve-year-old.
“I’m fine, India. How are you?”
“Very well, thank you.”
“Are you both having a nice time?”
Jack nodded enthusiastically. “There was a spider on the floor, so we came here.”
“Oh. Do you think it’s still there?” I asked.
“I think it’s gone now, Jack,” India said, and Jack blushed a little, just like his mother.
“Shall we go and see if my mommy needs any help?” India said.
Jack nodded so vigorously his ears wobbled.
“Did you see Mommy, Jack?” I asked. “She said she was coming to find you.”
Jack shook his head. “No. Maybe Mommy’s gone home.”
“No, she’s here somewhere,” I said, looking around again.
“Come on, Jack.” India took Jack’s hand in hers and led him off to the play corner. I could hear her telling Jack about the nutrients, how the food was much cleaner this way.
“Is that your children?” Karolina asked, when I turned back to her and Scott.
“Just the boy. The girl is Lola’s daughter.”
“Who’s Lola?”
“She’s the host, babe,” Scott said, checking if anyone had heard. “The raw-food woman.”
“Oh, her,” Karolina said. She turned to look at me, and I found her intense, unnerving. “He looks tired, your son.”
It was a strange thing to say, and I didn’t know how to respond. “He probably is a bit,” I said, a little flustered. “It’s been a long day.”
“He’s got these—how you say, Scottie?” She turned to Scott, and with her finger made half-moons under her eyes. “These black krug, circles, here.”
“Yes, well, he is a bit tired at the moment,” I said, trying to temper the annoyance in my voice.
“Sometimes it means problem with liver or kidneys, it’s connected,” Karolina said.
“Excuse me for a bit,” I said, and as I walked away, I could hear Scott raising his voice.
I went to the bathroom and sat inside a cubicle and Googled “brain tumor dark circles” on my phone. One million two hundred fifty results came up in 0.59 seconds. Shaking, I clicked on one, The 5 Warning Signs of Pediatric Cancers. There it was. The neuroblastoma symptoms to watch out for: bulging eyes, dark circles, droopy eyelids.
I sat in the cubicle listening to the dripping of a pipe. Outside in the gallery, I could hear the sound of speeches, of Lola on the mic. I Googled some more, clicking on link after link. There were other symptoms—glassy eyes, a worsening stutter, sensitivity to bright light. Jack didn’t have any of those things. I was just getting myself worked up, so I took a deep breath and headed back to the party.
Lola was still on the mic at the other end of the gallery, but I couldn’t see Anna. I looked around and then found her outside, sitting in the car with the light off.
“I’m sorry, I know I’m being rude. I just can’t be in there right now,” Anna said. “I just keep thinking about it, and I can’t smile and pretend that everything’s normal.”
“I know,” I said, putting my hand on Anna’s shoulder. “Why don’t we leave? I can make some excuse.”
“Would you mind? I just can’t go back in there.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make something up.”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come. It was a mistake.”
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll go and get Jack, all right?”
“Thanks.” Anna looked broken, as if she was shrinking into the seat. I went back inside and told Lola that Anna wasn’t feeling very well and went to look for Jack. He was sitting with India under the champagne table. They had taken their shoes and socks off and had laid some paper plates out on the ground.
“We’re having a picnic,” Jack said, pretending to drink out of his shoe.
“I can see that. It looks yummy.”
“Can we play more, Daddy?”
“We have to go, I’m afraid. Mommy’s not feeling very well.”
“Oh, Dad-dee.”
“But you’ll see India very soon.”
Jack reluctantly put his trainers back on and then kissed India goodbye.
“Bye-bye, Jack,” India said formally. “I enjoyed playing with you today.”
As we were leaving, Jack kept turning around to see India, to see if she was still waving goodbye. He fell asleep as soon as he got into the car. We drove home in silence, listening to the hum of the tires on the tarmac.
“Are you okay?” I said as we pulled into the drive.
“Yes, sorry. I know I’m being unpleasant, but I just can’t stop thinking about it.” Anna checked that Jack was still sleeping and lowered her voice. “Thinking what if, what if, and I know it’s stupid but I can’t...”
“I know,” I said, wanting to tell her what Karolina had said, but I knew it would only worry her more. “You can’t think like that, you just can’t,” I said, putting my hand on her leg.
We took Jack up to bed when we got home. He was sleepy, but we managed to stand him up, so we could get him in his pajamas and brush his teeth. When Anna had gone to get him some cream for a rash, I looked into his eyes to see if there was a droop, if his eyelids were bulging, the symptoms I had read about online. I looked from both sides, turning him toward the light, but I couldn’t see anything unusual.
We tucked him in together, putting his things—the cookie-tin lid, Darth Vader’s ripped cloak—on the end of the bed and then putting his favorites—Little Teddy and flashlight—next to his head, so he could find them in the night.
I sat on the end of the bed, looking at his photos and the pictures of skyscrapers on the wall. Sometimes, after I had kissed him good-night, I watched him through the crack in the door. He would lie on his back and
