Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

you!” “I was at work.” “Why weren't you at home?” “Because I have to go to work.” “Why didn't you pick me up from school like the other moms?” “Oskar, I came home as soon as I could. It takes longer for me to get home than for you to. I thought it would be better to meet you at the apartment than make you wait at school for me to get to you.” “But you should have been home when I got home.” “I wish I had been, but it wasn't possible.” “You should have made it possible.” “I can't make the impossible possible.” “You should have.” She said, “I got home as quickly as I could.” And then she started crying.
    The ax was winning.
    I put my cheek against her. “I don't need anything fancy, Mom. Just something above ground.” She took a deep breath, put her arm around me, and said, “That might be possible.” I tried to think of some way to be hilarious, because I thought that maybe if I was hilarious, she wouldn't be mad at me anymore and I could be safe again. “With a little elbow room.” “What?” “I'm gonna need a little elbow room.” She smiled and said, “OK.” I sniffled again, because I could tell that it was working. “And a bidet.” “Absolutely. One bidet coming up.” “And some electrical fencing.” “Electrical fencing?” “So that grave robbers won't try to steal all of my jewels.” “Jewels?” “Yeah,” I said, “I'm gonna need some jewels, too.”
    We cracked up together, which was necessary, because she loved me again. I pulled my feelings book from under my pillow, flipped to the current page, and downgraded from DESPERATE TO MEDIOCRE. “Hey, that's great!” Mom said, looking over my shoulder. “No,” I said, “it's mediocre. And please don't snoop.” She rubbed my chest, which was nice, although I had to turn a little so she wouldn't feel that I still had my key on, and that there were two keys.
    “Mom?” “Yes.” “Nothing.”
    “What is it, baby?” “Well it's just that wouldn't it be great if mattresses had spaces for your arm, so that when you rolled onto your side, you could fit just right?” “That would be nice.” “And good for your back, probably, because it would let your spine be straight, which I know is important.” “That is important.” “Also, it would make snuggling easier. You know how that arm constantly gets in the way?” “I do.” “And making snuggling easier is important.” “Very.”
    MEDIOCRE
    OPTIMISTIC, BUT REALISTIC
    “I miss Dad.” “So do I.” “Do you?” “Of course I do.” “But do you really?'” “How could you ask that?” “It's just that you don't act like you miss him very much.” “What are you talking about?” “I think you know what I'm talking about.” “I don't.” “I hear you laughing.” “You hear me laughing?” “In the living room. With Ron.” “You think because I laugh every now and then I don't miss Dad?” I rolled onto my side, away from her.
    OPTIMISTIC, BUT REALISTIC
    EXTREMELY DEPRESSED
    She said, “I cry a lot, too, you know.” “I don't see you cry a lot.” “Maybe that's because I don't want you to see me cry a lot.” “Why not?” “Because that isn't fair to either of us.” “Yes it is.” “I want us to move on.” “How much do you cry?” “How much?” “A spoonful? A cup? A bathtub? If you added it up.” “It doesn't work like that.” “Like what?”
    She said, “I'm trying to find ways to be happy. Laughing makes me happy.” I said, “I'm not trying to find ways to be happy, and I won't.” She said, “Well, you should.” “Why?” “Because Dad would want you to be happy.” “Dad would want me to remember him.” “Why can't you remember him and be happy?” “Why are you in love with Ron?” “What?” “You're obviously in love with him, so what I want to know is, why? What's so great about him?” “Oskar, did it ever occur to you that things might be more complicated than they seem?” “That occurs to me all the time.” “Ron is my friend.” “So then promise me you won't ever fall in love again.” “Oskar, Ron is going through a lot, too. We help each other. We're friends.” “Promise me you won't fall in love.” “Why would you ask me to promise that?” “Either promise me you'll never fall in love again, or I'm going to stop loving you.” “You're not being fair.” “I don't have to be fair! I'm your son!” She let out an enormous breath and said, “You