There were ducks out that day. I watched them for a few minutes, letting my gaze follow their slick, wet bodies as they glided through the water. A female and six ducklings, I counted. Usually by this late in the season most of them have gone, hiding out for a few months somewhere warm where the lakes don’t freeze over. But these ducks stayed behind, probably because the mother was too pregnant to migrate. In my head I said a prayer that they would make it out okay.
I felt him watching me -- felt his eyes following mine as mine followed the ducks. I pretended not to notice though, because something had been off about him recently and he wouldn’t tell me what it was even though we weren't supposed to keep secrets from each other. “Those ducks better get on with it,” I said, staring straight ahead. “The lake will be frozen before long.”
He didn’t answer right away. He stood up and walked closer to the water, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his battered, black wool coat. “Animals have instincts about that sort of thing. It’s in their nature. They’ll be fine, Nora Bear.”
I flinched at his use of my old nickname. I used to love it when he called me that. It was our special thing. No one else was allowed to use it, just Uncle Theo. Now it made me feel stupid.
“I’m not a little kid anymore.”
Theo turned to face me. “I know, Nora. I know that.” It started to rain, icy cold pellets that felt like needles piercing my cheeks. They stuck to the lenses of Theo’s tortoise-shell glasses but he didn’t wipe them away, just looked at me. I wanted to look back, wanted to prove to him that I could handle whatever it was he wasn’t telling me. Instead, my eyes filled up with tears and I looked down at my feet.
Suddenly he was back at my side on the park bench, arm wrapped around my shoulders. I stiffened for a moment before I realized how babyish I was acting and relaxed against him. We sat like that for awhile, staring out at the ducks on the pond that were still swimming in aimless circles.
“I’m sick, Nora.” It was so quiet that for a moment I think I imagined that he said it. “Nora?” He said, after another minute of silence.
I didn’t know how to respond. Couldn’t respond, couldn’t think of a single word, like my entire vocabulary just up and evaporated from my brain. (Although I doubted I could speak even if I wanted to.)
“Please say something, darlin’.”
I didn’t say a word. Instead, I shoved his arm off me and hit him, and then I hit him over and over and over until my arm felt like jelly and tears blurred my vision. Not once did he make a move to stop me. He just sat there and let me hit him, flinching with every blow.
“How could you?!” I shouted, fingers tangled in my hair. “How could you?” Shove. “How could you do this to me?” The last word was a whisper, but not a gentle one. There was malice in my tone as the anger at my best friend built.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I just couldn’t tell you.” There were tears in his eyes and it shocked me. Theo never cries. At anything.
“Why? You can tell me anything! Don’t you know that?” Now he was the one who wouldn’t meet my gaze. “Theo. Look at me!” I yelled.
His eyes found mine and immediately I wished they hadn’t. “I didn’t know how.” His voice cracked and I was ruined. “How could I? How could I find the words for something like that?” He got up and wrapped me in his arms but I just stood there, not hugging him back. “It’s going to be okay. I’m okay. We’re okay.” He pulled back a little, placing a hand on either side of my face so I had no choice but to look at him. “Nothing is going to change. You’re still my girl. Always will be.”
I nodded a little, more tears sliding down my face. The wind burnt against my skin and the rain fell harder now, so I buried my face in his chest. The wool was itchy but smelled like peppermint and pine, like Theo, so I ignored the discomfort. “How long?” I asked, my voice muffled in the fabric. I almost hoped he wouldn't hear me because I didn't want the answer, but he did.
He cleared his throat, stalling. “Listen, we don’t have to—“
“Just tell me.” I was surprised at how strong my voice sounded.
Theo sighed. “Seven months.”
I wasn't sure of the answer I was expecting, if I was expecting him to say two weeks or two years.
Seven. It was the age Theo taught me how to ride a bike because dad was always too busy with work. It was the age I broke my leg riding that same bike and Theo sat with me in the hospital nearly every day, reading me Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and James and the Giant Peach and forcing me to eat rubbery chocolate pudding.
It was the amount of time my uncle, my best friend, the one person in the world who truly understands me, had left on this earth.
I didn’t remember much more of that day, just that when we finally left the park Theo took me to the public library to check out books on bird migration and we sat amongst the tall stacks looking at pictures of ducks and geese and swans. I made sure to look at him every once in awhile, studying each of his features so I’d never forget what he looked like. I listened to his laugh so I’d never forget the way it sounded or the happy wrinkles it created around his eyes. And most of all, I noticed how his voice softened every time he said my name.
