24. Lea

Chapter twenty-four

Lea

E ven with a blue-and-white surgical mask on, I can still tell Kai has a wide grin on his handsome face as he sits beside a little girl named Khushi.

She’s a witty little spitfire, and it’s clear that she has no interest in letting cancer get her down.

Her parents sit on the opposite side of her bed, their heads resting against each other; the bags under their eyes and tired smiles tug at my heartstrings. I can’t even begin to imagine how much this family has gone through, but I can only hope for better days ahead.

A knock raps against the door, drawing our attention to where Jaclyn is popping her head into the room. “Hey, I think it’s time for Santa and Mrs. Claus to head out so they can make it to all the other children around the world,” she says.

Khushi leans back in her bed, crossing her arms across her chest. She rolls her eyes dramatically as she says, “I’m ten, Miss Jacky. I know Santa doesn’t exist.”

The room fills with laughter, and when it quiets down, Kai’s eyes are filled with unshed tears.

Khushi reaches out for Kai’s hand, holding it beside her, and for the first time since we met her nearly an hour ago, a twinge of sadness is evident in her glassy eyes. “In my culture, we have a saying, ‘eopjilleojin murida’, which means don’t cry over slurped water,” she says, turning to look at her parents. “Right?” she asks them to clarify.

They chuckle, and her dad leans forward, resting his forearms on the thin mattress. “Don’t cry over spilled water,” he emphasizes. “It’s just like the American saying ‘don’t cry over spilled milk,’ meaning there’s no use in crying over what’s already happened.”

Khushi nods exaggeratedly. “Mhmm, so don’t cry for me because I might be sick now, but I won’t be forever.” Confidence exudes from her tiny body.

Kai squeezes her fingers. “I have every confidence that you’re right. You,” he says, pointing a long finger at her, “are a fighter.” He looks over at me, his eyes crinkling at the sides. “And Mrs. Claus and I’ll be cheering you on from the North Pole,” he jokes, shooting her a wide, goofy smile to clear the tension from the room.

Khushi’s bright smile returns, and she extends her arms out for a hug from each of us. Kai’s reluctance to leave her is almost palpable as they wave goodbye to each other.

Jaclyn walks us out of the hospital, thanking us profusely for staying, and we volunteer to do it again next year.

This is a holiday tradition I can get behind.