This Isn't What It Looks Like (22 page)

M
ax-Ernest had never seen Cass’s house looking like this.

Her mom, Melanie, was one of the neatest people Max-Ernest knew. It had been strange enough to find the front door unlocked
with unread newspapers strewn around it, but to see dishes piled in the sink and even on the counter and on the table? The
house looked almost as cluttered as Cass’s grandfathers’ store.

The one spot in the kitchen that wasn’t in complete disarray was the refrigerator. Max-Ernest and Cass had long ago devised
a special, random-looking way of arranging the magnetic letters on the fridge that made it easier to leave coded messages
for each other. In normal times, Cass had to reorganize the letters on an almost nightly basis because her mother compulsively
alphabetized them during the day. And yet there they were, just as Cass had left them; two weeks had gone by without Cass’s
mother touching the letters. Clearly, Melanie was not herself.

On the stove, a teapot was whistling. Max-Ernest got the sense the water inside had been boiling for a while.

He turned off the flame.

“Tea… tea is just the ticket….” Cass’s Grandpa Larry entered the kitchen, muttering to himself. He
looked at the teakettle, perturbed. “Why did I think I heard it whistling?”

Max-Ernest coughed. “Hi, Grandpa Larry.”
^*

Larry’s eyes lit up. “Well, if it isn’t young Master Max—what a stroke of luck!” Larry offered his hand with forced joviality.

“Wayne. Melanie. Get down here and see who that sneaky old cat dragged in! Looks like we can go out, after all,” he called
up the stairs behind him.

“I was going to see about getting a nurse to sit with Cass while we took her mother to dinner, but I feel much better with
you here,” he explained to Max-Ernest. “What that girl needs right now is to be surrounded by people who love her, not more
so-called medical professionals.”

Max-Ernest was shocked by the sight of Cass’s mother. There were dark, raccoon-like circles around her eyes. Her clothes hung
loosely on her shoulders. Her hair was stringy. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she, not her daughter, was the
patient.

Larry and Wayne, in contrast, had trimmed their long unruly beards and looked much more cleaned and pressed than usual. If
grief and anxiety had made Cass’s mother fall to pieces, it had had almost the reverse effect on them. They were rising to
the
occasion, it seemed, taking care of Melanie, not just Cass.

It took Cass’s grandfathers over an hour to convince Cass’s mother to leave the house for under an hour.

“We need to put some meat back on your bones,” said Wayne. “You look like you haven’t eaten in weeks.”

“That’s because I haven’t. How could I? Especially now…” She broke off.

“Do you think that’s what Cass would want—for you to waste away?” asked Larry heatedly.

“You know how conscious she is of keeping everybody’s blood sugar levels up,” said Wayne. “Just in case you have to deal with
a sudden electrical fire or earthquake or nuclear attack. Right, Max-Ernest?”

Max-Ernest nodded. This was absolutely true. Cass was always trying to keep everybody’s energy supply high.

“We’re taking you out for a burger right now, and when we get back I’m cleaning up this kitchen,” said Larry. “This place
looks worse than the galley onboard the
The Warren Harding
.
^*
I remember once when I was in the navy and I had to cook for six hundred seamen, a sudden storm rocked the ship, and
my giant vat of chili spilled out onto the deck. It took me three days to clean, but I—”

Max-Ernest looked confusedly at Larry. “Navy? I thought you were in the army.”

“Details. Details. When, young man, are you going to learn to enjoy a good story?”

Eventually, Melanie succumbed to the pressure.

She agreed to go to dinner, but not without grilling Max-Ernest first:

“You really know how to read the heart monitor?”

“Yes, I swear. Remember how many times I’ve been to the hospital? I’m an expert.”

“I don’t want you to be an expert. Just make sure her heart isn’t beating too fast or too slow.”

“OK.”

“Or too unevenly.”

“Has to be even. Got it.”

“And don’t touch the IV, whatever you do. You may think you’re a medical expert, but you’re not a nurse.”

“I know I’m not, I mean, I won’t.”

“If there’s any irregularity at all, anything, call me right away.”

“OK.”

“Even if you don’t think it’s important.”

“Even if.”

“If she blinks, call me.”

“Definitely.”

“If she even twitches…”

“Absolutely.”

“And if she mumbles anything…?”

“I’ll call you.”

“Yes, immediately! And write down what she says, too.”

“OK, I’ll write it down.”

“I’m very serious, Max-Ernest.”

“I know you are.”

“Even if you don’t recognize the word. Write the sounds.”

“OK.”

“Even if it doesn’t sound like a word, just a breath or a sigh.”

“OK.”

“And you have Larry’s number in case you don’t get me for some reason?”

“Yeah.”

“And Wayne’s?”

“Uh-huh. But they never leave their phones on.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“If you can’t get any of us, the phone number of every neighbor on the street is next to the refrigerator. Also the number
of the police and the nearest hospital and the city council office and school. And poison control.”

“OK.”

“But don’t poison her!”

“No poison. Got it.”

“Of course, if there’s a real emergency, you should call 9-1-1 first. Do you have that number?”

“Um, it’s 9-1-1, isn’t it?”

“Please don’t get smart with me right now, Max-Ernest….”

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to be smart. You confused me, that’s all.”

“I
knew
this was a bad idea.”

“Come
on
, Melanie,” said Larry. “We’re only going to be three minutes away.”

Before she could say another word, he and Wayne each took her by an arm and escorted her out the door.

“Well, here goes nothing,” said Max-Ernest to the empty room, bracing himself for his visit with the silent girl upstairs.

T
he author of this book has requested a fifteen-minute break to restore his energy before writing what promises to be a very
intense and emotional chapter. Please take this opportunity to have a snack or use the restroom. If you choose to stay with
the book during this time, we offer the following items for your consideration and/or consumption.
^*

I
F YOU LIKE THE
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ECRET
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ERIES BY
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