After Ever After

“‘What do we do now?’ Mom asked.

‘What do you mean, “what do we do now?” We get off the turnpike and make a left.’

‘Ha-ha. I mean…what do we do now?’

‘I don’t know, honey. Maybe we go home and live happily ever after.’”

This conversation between Jeff’s parents echoes the novel’s title, establishing The Aftereffects of Cancer Treatment (physical and otherwise) as a central concern. It also characterizes his mother as anxious about her son’s future and his father as more hopeful. This highlights the narrative’s focus on The Impact of Life-Threatening Illness on Family Dynamics.

“See, I have this problem. I get kind of spacey sometimes, and I miss some of the things my teachers say. That happens to a lot of kids who have had leukemia, because the chemotherapy drugs and radiation can mess up your brain permanently. Some kids come through it totally fine, but I’m not one of those kids. I never even had radiation, but I did have ‘high-dose and intrathecal methotrexate,’ which is the fancy way of saying that the doctors used to shoot poison into my spinal cord and bathe my brain in it. And it left me a little scrambled up.”

Throughout the novel, Jeff experiences delayed effects from his cancer treatments, which have left him disabled. Jeff is characteristically blunt about the physical consequences of cancer treatment, describing the latter as poison. However, his refusal to mince words does not mean he is entirely comfortable with the aftereffects of treatment, which impact his self-perception and social life.

“As for me, I don’t love math. In fact, I am tremendously awful at it. The trouble started when I was in fourth grade, which was my first full year back in school after my cancer treatment ended. My teacher started noticing that I didn’t pay attention, that I lost my homework sheets pretty often, and that I didn’t know my math facts. Now, the weird thing is that when I was little, my dad used to call me his little math expert. I knew all of my addition and subtraction stuff before kindergarten.”

Besides exemplifying the potential neurological side effects of cancer treatment, Jeff’s relationship with math is symbolically tied both to his relationship with his father and to his self-identity. The language surrounding the tests evolves in tandem with Jeff’s growth as he gets closer with his father and overcomes social and academic challenges at school.

“Remember a few years ago, when scientists announced that Pluto wasn’t a planet anymore? All of a sudden, that was the main story in the news for, like, a week and a half. I remember being all worried for some reason I could never name, and I think that happened to a lot of people. It’s not like the planet-hood status of Pluto was a major factor in anybody’s conscious life before that, but when Pluto suddenly stopped being a planet, the whole world was unnerved. Like, if they can take away Pluto, what’s next? What if the sun isn’t—a sun? What if I’m really adopted? What if everyone in my town was secretly whisked away in the middle of the night and replaced by exact replica aliens?”

This analogy reveals Jeff’s anxiety about his relationship with his older brother. It suggests that Jeff considered Steven’s presence in his life as immutable a truth as the existence of planets. However, he is forced to confront the true nature of their relationship when Steven “[quits] the world” to go find himself in Africa (37). Stephen’s absence is one of the main avenues for the novel’s exploration of Dealing with Loss and Grief.

“I wonder if they have oatmeal in Africa. I bet they do, but they probably call it ‘ukumani’ or something. And I bet they throw a few really disgusting, many-limbed bugs into the pot for flavor. I kind of hope so.”

This passage illustrates Jeff’s disdain for Africa, which is to him an abstract concept rather than a real continent. To Jeff, Africa represents the distance that Steven has put between them, so he speaks of it with resentment and lapses into a highly stereotypical picture of the whole continent as alien.

“Even if she were somehow, against all odds, a bit interested in me, I knew that would all change once we had ‘The Conversation.’ Every cancer survivor out there has had The Conversation a million times, and it never goes well. You kind of try to hem and haw, to put it off, to pretend you don’t limp everywhere and carry a laptop to all of your classes, but ultimately, anyone who might become friendly with you must find out about your cancer history. And people say the stupidest crap in the world to you right after it comes out.”

Developing the theme of the aftereffects of cancer treatment, this quote reveals Jeff’s worry that Lindsey will stereotype him when he tells her about his medical history. This depicts the possible effects illness or disability can have on a person’s social life and indicates Jeff’s desire to be treated “normally.”

“It is freaking uncanny how every single memory in the world ties back into having cancer.”

This comment, which Jeff makes as his mother recounts an innocuous anecdote about his brother, reveals how his illness has affected the family. Not only has much of Jeff’s life involved his diagnosis and treatment, but cancer has also reshaped the lives of his family members. This quote hints at Jeff’s growing understanding of Steven’s point of view and foreshadows his eventual acceptance of his brother’s decision to leave.

“‘Steven, you’re being ridiculous. Don’t you know that there are people counting on you?’ And Steven went off:

‘Don’t you get it, Mom? That’s why I have to leave. I want to find out what it’s like to worry about myself for a change. I want to do what I want.’”

This conversation between Steven and his parents, overheard by Jeff, further illustrates how a cancer diagnosis can impact family dynamics. Throughout most of the novel, Steven is characterized through the lens of Jeff’s memories and current emotional state, resulting in a skewed portrait of his motivations. This dialogue contextualizes Steven’s decision to leave and foreshadows Jeff’s eventual understanding of that decision.

“I mean, I couldn’t even believe we were having this conversation, you know? It’s funny how you can worry about something for so long, and then when it finally happens, it’s almost no biggie.”

This passage reveals that Jeff’s anxiety about Lindsey pigeonholing him as a cancer survivor turned out to be unfounded. It characterizes their relationship as genuine and caring but also hints at Jeff’s lingering worry about people’s reactions to his history.

“Wow, it never occurred to me until just now that maybe I’m a bit more grown-up than my brother is. He still thinks life is supposed to make sense. I mean, I know it’s not easy to be like Tad, who constantly thinks the whole planet is zooming toward some kind of gigantic cosmic toilet. But skipping around being all jolly is just asking the world to smack you upside the head with a tennis racket.”

Jeff develops his own identity in part by reflecting on Steven and Tad. Because he believes that Steven is too idealistic and that Tad is too cynical, Jeff gradually finds a middle ground that enables him to gain confidence and maturity.

“She went on to tell us that this play, Cyrano de Bergerac, was about a French knight dude with a huge nose who falls in love with an impossible-to-get beautiful girl named Roxanne. Of course, Roxanne’s in love with a really good-looking dumb guy named Christian, because let’s face it, why would she be into the guy with the schnoz? Well, when he’s not busy being a hero, Cyrano is also a famous poet. So he makes a deal that he will pretend to be Christian and write a bunch of love letters to Roxanne.”

The symbolism of the beau geste is introduced through Cyrano de Bergerac, a 1897 play by Edmond Rostand. The play itself parallels Jeff and Lindsey’s relationship, as Jeff initially believes that he is not smart or cool enough to win over Lindsey, a beautiful and popular girl. In addition, Tad dreams of performing a beau geste and eventually does so in secret to help Jeff, which also mirrors the play’s plot.

“When you’re actually in treatment, you’re like the town mascot. Everybody is rooting for you, and helping out with a million fund-raisers for your treatment, and sending you class sets of get-well cards with cute little crayon illustrations for your hospital-room wall. But kids don’t have the greatest attention spans. I mean, come on—people don’t have the greatest attention spans. So they can only sit around worrying about you for so long. Then, gradually, your illness becomes old news, until all you are is an empty seat.”

This passage develops the theme of the aftereffects of cancer treatment by revealing how differently Jeff is treated while actively sick versus while experiencing the treatments’ aftereffects. Cancer is treated as a spectacle, with Jeff serving as an unofficial “town mascot,” but his ensuing disability and the impact on his social life are minimized or ignored, as they do not fit into a feel-good narrative.

“I remember once, when I was in my last year of treatment, I saw a poster in the bookstore that said, LIVE EVERY DAY AS THOUGH IT WERE YOUR LAST. That became sort of my unofficial motto. I mean, there was a pretty good chance I was going to die at that point, so why not live it up a little?”

In the context of his history, Jeff’s “unofficial motto” is more than a mere motivational quote. It encompasses his worldview and is informed by the fact that he has had to directly confront his own mortality. This characterizes Jeff as driven, hopeful, and emotionally mature.

“As we pulled over on the highway for the second time in a mile so I could hurl in a hedgerow, I thought, Wow, this is just like old times. Except back in the day, Steven would have been around to tell me I was going to be OK.

And then I thought, I don’t need Steven to tell me that anymore. I know I’m OK.”

Jeff’s growth is evident as he acknowledges the independence that he has gained thanks to Steven’s absence. He realizes that he can be self-sufficient and does not need to rely on his older brother like he used to.

“‘Advocate? Advocate? Is that what you call it? Because I call it “enabling,” as in, “you are enabling your child to remain an infant.” You saw Jeff’s grade on that midterm. He can do this!’

Mom fired right back: ‘I’m telling you—AGAIN—a classroom math test is a million years removed from the statewides. It’s like seeing your kid get a hit in T-ball, and saying he’s ready for the major leagues. Besides which, I’m not saying he should be excused from taking the test—just from being held back if he fails. In education, we call that “protection from adverse consequences.” It’s considered an essential characteristic of a quality learning environment.’”

This conversation between Jeff’s parents illustrates two conflicting stances regarding parenting disabled children. Jeff’s father wants his son to learn how to face challenges on his own, whereas his mother wants his disability to be accommodated so he can access the same things as his peers. As a result, this passage may be read as a microcosm of the social discourse surrounding disability accommodations.

“I still wanted to get Tad onto his machine, though. All of a sudden, it felt like the most important thing in the world. Sometimes when you’re at a huge fork in the road, you don’t even realize it until later. But other times, you can feel it in your bone marrow.”

This quote foreshadows Tad’s eventual fate, with Jeff hinting that he is at a symbolic crossroads and can feel the significance of the moment “in [his] bone marrow”—a reference to the procedure that leads to Tad’s death. This creates narrative tension and anticipation while emphasizing Jeff’s emotional distress.

“‘Jeffrey, it means your cancer wasn’t your fault. Which means other people’s reactions to it aren’t your fault, either. And then there’s Tad: Nothing you’ve done has anything to do with Tad’s relapse.’

‘I didn’t say my cancer was my fault.’

‘Not in those words, no. But look—have you ever played cards? […] And when the cards were dealt, did you punch yourself in the head every time you got a bad hand? Or did you just play the cards you got?’”

Dr. Galley’s words of reassurance highlight Jeff’s sense of guilt about how his illness has impacted his family. Although irrational, his feeling of being responsible for his family’s problems stems from the trauma of his diagnosis and subsequent treatment. For the first time in the story, Dr. Galley puts those feelings into words to counter Jeff’s distress with logic and reason, which finally allows him to stop blaming himself.

“Would a normal person be freaking? Sure. But when you’re going through treatment, you don’t think that way. You can’t, or you’d die. I mean, my treatment was, like, a millionth of what Tad’s been through, and you know what it’s done to me. But I know I didn’t really flip out while it was happening. There’s nothing you can do about it, so you go, and they stick you, and you get sick, and that’s it. Freaking out just makes the whole ordeal harder for your mom.”

Jeff explains to Lindsey how Tad is able to speak so openly about his ongoing treatment. This ties into the theme of the aftereffects of cancer treatment, revealing how something that seems daunting can become normalized when it is part of one’s daily life. His reference to suppressing his emotions to protect his mother implies that he has had to grow up too fast while also speaking to the strain his diagnosis placed on the whole family.

“I wish I could remember now what I was thinking during those next two hours, because they were the last good hours I was going to have for a long time. But nobody ever tells you in advance when you should concentrate on the good times—that’s why you’re supposed to try to do it every day. I know, I know: Tad would barf. But it’s true anyway.”

This passage foreshadows Tad’s death by hinting at Jeff’s upcoming emotional trials. The quote’s emphasis on appreciating the good echoes Jeff’s unofficial motto and reveals his growth and maturity, as he shows himself capable of recognizing when he failed to live in the moment.

“Maybe twenty feet before I crossed the line, I realized she was crying.”

The last line of Chapter 23, which indirectly announces Tad’s death, contrasts with the rest of the chapter. Jeff feels a sense of pride and accomplishment as he successfully completes his bike-a-thon, but even before Jeff spots his mother crying, Tad’s fate is foreshadowed by the playlist of sad songs Jeff listened to during the event.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m here. I never knew it was possible to feel so numb on such a big day. I’m sitting in my hot, sticky gown, trying to keep my big, stupid-looking square hat from tilting and sliding off my head completely. It doesn’t help that the metal folding chair I’m on has been baking in the sun for hours. I stare at the sweat-drenched neck pimples of the kid in front of me, but really I’m not looking at anything.”

The opening of Chapter 24 is the same as Chapter 2. The narrative loops back to the moment of narration: Jeff waiting to walk across the stage for his graduation ceremony. While Chapter 2 suggested that Jeff is distracted because of the heat and his tendency to “[space] out,” these prove to have been red herrings; his distraction in fact foreshadows Tad’s death, which informs Jeff’s distress in this passage.

“Tad is gone.

Tad is gone.

And then Miss Palma steps forward from the teachers’ line. She walks to me, puts one hand on my shoulder, and whispers, ‘This is your beau geste, Jeffrey. You can do it.’”

The symbolism of the beau geste culminates in this quote, which echoes Tad’s plans for his own beau geste: walking across the stage and helping Jeff graduate. Jeff is now doing the same to honor his best friend, though his grief is revealed by his repetition of the phrase “Tad is gone” as well as his initial inability to move.

“I sit some more. There’s just so much flowing through me. It happens every time I come here, just after I’ve filled myself up on Tad’s biting comments, and just before my butt finishes getting permanently numb. As corny as it might sound, I think about the meaning of life. I felt lost a lot of the time this summer, but at the end of these visits, I know that Dr. Galley is right, that a big part of why we’re here is to support the people around us. I know that Steven is right, that journeys aren’t pointless if they come with a round-trip ticket. And I know that, even through all of the horrible things that happened to Tad in his three bouts with cancer, Tad’s life wasn’t pointless.”

This passage exemplifies Jeff’s emotional growth. Through his experiences and thanks to Dr. Galley’s guidance, Jeff concludes that the purpose of life is to cultivate love and compassion. Tad embodied this message, which leads Jeff to reflect that “[his] life wasn’t pointless.”