She nearly laughed.
"That's a very good question."
He looked toward his father.
"I wish he could sleep without being scared."
Rachel felt her smile soften.
"What would help him?"
Marcus considered.
Then whispered, "Maybe if the doctors told him I'm going to be okay."
Rachel hesitated.
The boy had been through a difficult transplant.
His medical team was monitoring his recovery carefully.
No one could promise that every complication had passed.
She looked at Marcus.
"The doctors are doing everything they can to help you recover. Your dad knows that."
Marcus nodded.
"But he's still scared."
Rachel sat beside him.
"People can be scared even when they're hopeful."
He considered.
Then looked at his sleeping father.
"I guess that makes sense."
Rachel gently adjusted the blanket over his knees.
"And sometimes the best present we can give somebody is a little kindness."
Marcus smiled.
Then whispered, "Can you tell him to go home and sleep?"
Rachel looked at the exhausted father.
"I can certainly suggest it."
Marcus nodded.
"Good."
Then he returned to his comic book, carefully turning the pages so the sound would not wake the man beside him.
David was less enthusiastic about Christmas.
When Rachel entered his room, he sat with his arms crossed, staring at the television.
A holiday program played silently.
His mother was arranging small decorations on a shelf.
"Good afternoon," Rachel said.
David shrugged.
His mother gave Rachel an apologetic look.
Rachel shook her head slightly.
There was nothing to apologize for.
She sat beside the bed.
"Big plans?"
David stared at the television.
"No."
"Would you like to do something later?"
"No."
Rachel nodded.
"All right."
She sat quietly.
After a while, David looked toward her.
"Everybody keeps asking if I'm excited."
Rachel turned.
"About Christmas?"
He nodded.
"I hate it."
His mother stopped moving.
Rachel kept her expression calm.
"What do you hate about it?"
David looked down.
"Everybody wants me to smile."
The room became quiet.
He continued.
"They say I'm lucky. They say I'm brave. They say I should be happy because I get presents."
His voice grew sharper.
"But I don't want presents. I want my legs back."
His mother covered her mouth.
Rachel felt the words settle heavily.
She knew there was no cheerful answer.
No sentence that could erase what he had lost.
So she nodded.
"I hear you."
David looked surprised.
She continued.
"You don't have to be excited because it's Christmas."
He stared.
"You don't?"
"No."
He swallowed.
"You don't have to smile because someone brings a gift. And you don't have to pretend you aren't angry."
For a long moment, David said nothing.
Then his eyes filled.