The Last Forever Read Online Free PDF

for that, maybe. Maybe we just didn’t get to that part. I don’t really know. She had lost her taste buds, and her throat had radiation burns, and she couldn’t eat. There were other burns too, all over her chest and even on her back. Mouth sores and scary weight loss. Still, the first surgeon told us she would likely completely recover. The oncologist said this too, and so did the other surgeon who put in that stomach tube. They were all pretty self-congratulatory about it, actually, until there was a series of unfortunate events . That’s whatthey also said afterward. Doctors say a lot of things, and you want them to say more, but it’s never enough.
    My father knows nothing about cars. It’s warm out, and the sun is on my face as I watch him. He is staring down at that engine, stunned and nervous, as if someone’s just handed him the scalpel and asked him to save the patient.
    “What’s going on?” I ask. I have to lean way out to see him.
    “The radiator.”
    I snort. He doesn’t know his radiator from a hole in the ground.
    “What’s that supposed to mean,” he asks but doesn’t really ask. He pokes his finger around in there, touches something hot, I guess, because he pulls his hand back and shakes it.
    “Radiator,” I say. I chuckle.
    “I worked at a garage in high school, smart-ass.”
    Okay, fine. Another thing I didn’t know. Parents should not be capable of surprises. Tessa Sedgewick’s Handbook of Good Parenting , Chapter One.
    “What do we do?”
    “We wait awhile.”
    He slams the hood closed. He rummages around in the backseat. I know what he’s looking for. A little tin with an American eagle on it. He doesn’t know I ditched that stuff back in the desert at a rest stop. Tessa Sedgewick’s Handbook of Good Parenting , Chapter Two: No mind-altering substances allowed.
    He looks at me hard. “You’re kidding,” he says.
    I don’t say a single word.
    “You didn’t.”
    I shrug.
    “Jesus. This is some road trip.”
    We wait. It’s the kind of waiting where you look at the clock again and again and find that only thirty-five seconds have passed. It’s getting hot, so I get out too. We’re both leaning against the truck. We’re both looking across the street. There’s a cycle shop and a used bookstore and Diablo’s Downtown Lounge, which has a few motorcycles in front and lit-up beer signs in the window. We stand there way too long.
    “License plate game,” my father suggests.
    “Don’t even.” I’m in no mood.
    “Twenty Ques—”
    “No.”
    His profile looks sad. I start to feel bad. “Karaoke on Fridays,” I say, and nod toward Diablo’s Downtown Lounge.
    “ ‘Some say loooove, it is a river . . . ,’ ” he sings.
    “ ‘That drowns the tender need . . . ,’ ” I sing. Mom had the album.
    “Reed,” Dad says. “The tender reed .”
    “Whatever.”
    I look for more gum in my purse. He busts out a few more lines, about love and flowers and seeds.
    “People are staring.” No one is really staring. There’s a dog tied to a lamppost by the bookstore. He lies down, as if settling in for the rest of the show. “Is it time yet?”
    “No.”
    We keep waiting. A man walks in a drunken zigzag out of Diablo’s Downtown Lounge. What is it, barely eleven o’clock? Sheesh.
    “Dave’s Drinking Took a Turn for the Worse,” Dad says.
    It’s a game we have, and when another guy comes out of the cycle shop in shiny green bike pants, it’s my turn. “Mark Had an Unfortunate Run-In with Lycra.”
    A woman passes with an enormous, bulging purse. “Sheila Believed You Could Never Be Too Prepared,” he says.
    Finally, Dad tries to start the car, but the little arrow that indicates engine temperature flies all the way to the wrong side. The truck’s making a bad noise, too, sort of like that time Dad ran the lawn mower over a garden trowel.
    “Darn it!” My father doesn’t really say this, but I’m saving you from more of his bad mouth. He