“What’s it for?” he asked.
“Your birthday,” Dorrie said. “A very early present since you’ve been so good.”
I thought Fitch would tear through the wrapping. Instead, he methodically peeled the tape off each box, careful not to damage the paper. When he opened the first one, he held the astronaut uniform against his body. He put on the hat, examined himself in the mirror with a grin.
“This is awesome,” he said. “Thanks.”
“Our mission today, Commander,” I said, “is to have fun. Can you do that?”
Fitch straightened his posture and saluted back: “Yes, sir.”
“Then gather your gear. We will be embarking at seventeen hundred hours.”
Hand in hand, Fitch led Dorrie down the path toward the park. I avoided looking up at Osiris as I followed along behind, studying the tuft of hair peeking out of Fitch’s hat, the planet pins and dinosaur stickers he’d affixed to the brim, Dorrie in that purple summer dress she’d said she never had the chance to wear. She couldn’t take her eyes off her son. I noticed the wildflowers growing through the cracks in the concrete, the way the air pollution had turned the sun nearly red.
“Hey, Fitch, you speed demon. I pulled some strings so you can have personal encounters with the animals. We’ll have the miniature golf course all to ourselves.”
“Prepare to get destroyed,” Fitch said.
*
“I want to see the tigers,” Fitch shouted as soon as we entered the park. “No, let’s go on a ride.”
He pointed to the Dipsy Doodle teacups. Around and around three times in a row, the world continued to spin after we finally stepped off. He climbed atop the dragon that was showing its chicken-wire interior, crawled through the fairy tree in desperate need of repair. But all Fitch saw was magic—and for a split second, watching him zigzag across the park, seeing him smile, really smile, for the first time since I’d known him, I almost forgot where we were.
For the most part, Dorrie remained quiet unless Fitch called her over for a photo or asked her to accompany him on a ride. She lingered in the background as we walked among the attractions, barely ate when we stopped for a snack at the Laughateria.
“Skip?” Dorrie said as we left the cafeteria, watching Fitch run toward the arcade. “Can you tell me how it’ll happen?”
“Are you sure you want to know?” I asked.
“You’re going to put him on the ride, right? I need to understand what I’m asking you to do,” she said.
“He won’t feel any pain,” I began. “There’s supposedly a period of euphoria. Most are unconscious after that. He’ll be gone by the third inversion.”
“No,” she said. “I guess I want to know how you do it. If you didn’t know Fitch, would he just be another kid you send on that ride? Do you remember them?”
Dorrie watched her son inspect the games as I told her about my charges, how I wrote their names and details in a notebook—Emma singing Disney songs, Colton covering himself with vending machine rub-on tattoos, Stacey wearing an oversized shirt that said CLIMATE CHANGE THREATENS BEER and who wanted to be a marine biologist.
After I was done, we purchased twenty dollars’ worth of tokens, enough for Fitch to buy a stuffed tiger, and joined him at the Skee-Ball machine. But apart from today and all the nights I’d spent with Fitch, I wanted Dorrie to hear the words: “I care about him, too.”
“I know you do,” she said.
Our time was running out. Fitch was scheduled with Group 4B: Hospice-Sponsored Children, which meant we only had another hour. The park’s animal trainers, neighbors of mine, gave us a special Big Cats show and let Fitch feed the sea lions. Afterward, without saying anything, I led us in the direction of the Chariot of Osiris. I saw Fitch looking up at it, his eyes returning to the map. I’ll always wonder how much he knew in that moment.
“Are we going on this now?” he asked.
“Well, your mom doesn’t like roller coasters, and I’m in charge of the control booth today,” I said. And all this was true. I had told my manager that I wanted to be the one who pushed the button. “But this is a big-boy ride. You’re a big boy, right? You’re a space commander, right?”
“Yes,” he answered. “I mean yes, sir. I’m a big boy. But—”
“Hmm?”
“Can the tiger come?”
Dorrie kneeled beside him and handed him the stuffed tiger. “I love you so much,” she said. “Mommy had a really good day with you.” She asked him for another hug before he sprinted off toward Osiris. Dorrie clutched onto me, sobbing as Fitch joined the line of children, her fingers digging into my clothes. I could feel the weight of her slipping, her legs buckling.