Then Dr. Malcolm, dressed as Superman, walked over
and knelt beside her.
“There’s one part of today your mom doesn’t know about either.”
We were back at the moment that had made my stomach tighten.
I wanted to see my daughter.
Dr. Malcolm looked at me.
“The results we were waiting for came in this morning.”
I gripped the bedrail.
“They’re encouraging, Alice. Maggie, they’re looking good.”
Hope rose too quickly.
“Maggie, they’re looking good.”
He continued before I could misunderstand.
“Treatment isn’t over. Alice will still need medication, blood work, appointments, and monitoring. But we’re comfortable moving her into the next, less intensive phase we’ve been working toward.”
Alice looked between us.
“Is that good, Mom?”
I started crying again.
Then someone handed Dr. Malcolm a backpack.
It was bright blue, covered in fabric-marker stars, superhero symbols, and messages from Alice’s classmates.
