The forty-eight hours before Allison\u2019s repeat blood test stretched longer than the two weeks that had come before them.<\/p>\n
Every ordinary thing became a distraction we pretended not to need.<\/p>\n
Mateo developed a habit of falling asleep only after being walked around the kitchen island several times. I learned that exactly six slow laps usually worked. Five left him suspicious. Seven made him wake again as if I had overplayed my hand.<\/p>\n
Allison watched from the couch with a blanket over her legs.<\/p>\n
\u201cSix.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re at five.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI can count.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou skipped the corner.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat does not invalidate the lap.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt absolutely does.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mateo opened one eye.<\/p>\n
We both froze.<\/p>\n
Then Allison whispered, \u201cYou ruined it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI did not.\u201d<\/p>\n
He yawned and went back to sleep.<\/p>\n
I smiled at her.<\/p>\n
For ten seconds, the tumor marker did not exist.<\/p>\n
Then her phone lit up on the coffee table.<\/p>\n
Both of us looked.<\/p>\n
Not the hospital.<\/p>\n
Just an advertisement.<\/p>\n
Allison exhaled.<\/p>\n
\u201cI hate that my entire nervous system lives inside my ringtone now.\u201d<\/p>\n
I put Mateo in the bassinet.<\/p>\n
\u201cWant me to turn notifications off?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
The answer came quickly.<\/p>\n
She hated waiting.<\/p>\n
She hated the possibility of missing something more.<\/p>\n
At the lab the next morning, Allison barely spoke.<\/p>\n
The technician tied the band around her arm.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019ve got good veins,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
Allison gave a tired smile.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve been told.\u201d<\/p>\n
Blood filled the tubes.<\/p>\n
One.<\/p>\n
Two.<\/p>\n
Three.<\/p>\n
So much of illness seemed to be waiting for liquids to tell you something about yourself.<\/p>\n
On the way home, Allison stared out the window.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat if it\u2019s higher again?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat if chemo isn\u2019t working?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019ll ask Dr. Mehta.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat if she changes everything?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
She turned toward me.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re really committed to that answer now.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s been useful.\u201d<\/p>\n
She almost smiled.<\/p>\n
Then she looked out the window again.<\/p>\n
At home, Rachel was waiting with coffee.<\/p>\n
Teresa had Mateo.<\/p>\n
The arrangement had become increasingly normal.<\/p>\n
That was one of the strangest parts of treatment: extraordinary circumstances rapidly turned into schedules.<\/p>\n
Rachel handed Allison a cup.<\/p>\n
\u201cDecaf.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re a terrible person.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYour stomach hates real coffee right now.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy soul doesn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYour soul can wait.\u201d<\/p>\n
Allison sat.<\/p>\n
Rachel looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cResults?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot yet.\u201d<\/p>\n
They both fell quiet.<\/p>\n
Nobody tried to fill the room.<\/p>\n
That mattered.<\/p>\n
An hour passed.<\/p>\n
Then another.<\/p>\n
At noon, Allison opened the hospital portal.<\/p>\n
Nothing.<\/p>\n
At twelve seventeen, again.<\/p>\n
Nothing.<\/p>\n
At twelve forty-two, she opened it.<\/p>\n
The new result appeared.<\/p>\n
I saw her face before I saw the number.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
She stared.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt dropped.\u201d<\/p>\n
Rachel stood.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow much?\u201d<\/p>\n
Allison told her.<\/p>\n
Rachel looked at me.<\/p>\n
That meant nothing to me.<\/p>\n
Her expression told me it was significant.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s good.\u201d<\/p>\n
Allison kept staring.<\/p>\n
\u201cReally good?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cReally encouraging.\u201d<\/p>\n
Not cured.<\/p>\n
Not safe.<\/p>\n
Encouraging.<\/p>\n
We had all learned the vocabulary by then.<\/p>\n
Allison laughed once.<\/p>\n
Then pressed both hands over her mouth.<\/p>\n
Tears came.<\/p>\n
I moved toward her.<\/p>\n
She stood before I reached her and hugged me.<\/p>\n
Hard.<\/p>\n
Harder than she had since before Mateo\u2019s birth.<\/p>\n
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.<\/p>\n
Then she pulled away.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know it doesn\u2019t mean everything.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt can still change.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut it dropped.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
She smiled through tears.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt dropped.\u201d<\/p>\n
Rachel cried too.<\/p>\n
Then her phone rang.<\/p>\n
Teresa.<\/p>\n
Rachel looked at Allison.<\/p>\n
\u201cCan I tell her?\u201d<\/p>\n
Allison nodded.<\/p>\n
Rachel answered.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt dropped.\u201d<\/p>\n
There was a pause.<\/p>\n
Then Teresa\u2019s voice became loud enough that we all heard her crying.<\/p>\n
Allison laughed.<\/p>\n
\u201cTell Mom she\u2019s not allowed to make this about her.\u201d<\/p>\n
Rachel repeated it.<\/p>\n
Teresa apparently called Allison something unprintable.<\/p>\n
For the first time since diagnosis, relief entered the house without immediately being chased out by another emergency.<\/p>\n
We let it stay.<\/p>\n
That afternoon, Teresa brought Mateo home with cupcakes.<\/p>\n
Allison looked at the box.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat are those?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCupcakes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI can see that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019re celebrating.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe number.\u201d<\/p>\n
Allison hesitated.<\/p>\n
I watched her.<\/p>\n
She wanted to protect herself.<\/p>\n
Celebrating meant admitting she hoped.<\/p>\n
Hope meant having something else to lose.<\/p>\n
Rachel seemed to understand.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re allowed to eat cake without declaring victory.\u201d<\/p>\n
Allison looked at her.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat should be on a greeting card.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll patent it.\u201d<\/p>\n
We ate cupcakes.<\/p>\n
Mateo slept through his own family celebration.<\/p>\n
Later, Allison stood at the sink washing frosting from her fingers.<\/p>\n
I walked past carrying bottles.<\/p>\n
She said, \u201cDaniel.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you still want another child?\u201d<\/p>\n
I stopped.<\/p>\n
The question had been sitting somewhere between us since surgery.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
She turned.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou used to.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI used to assume we had unlimited time to decide.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat isn\u2019t an answer.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
I put the bottles down.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes. I think I did.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDid?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know what I want now.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her expression tightened.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause I have cancer?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause everything changed.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked away.<\/p>\n
I heard the danger in my own answer.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s not because I think you\u2019re damaged.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her head snapped back.<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t say that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou thought I was thinking it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
She crossed her arms.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
The answer came easily.<\/p>\n
But something remained unresolved.<\/p>\n
She saw it.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat are you not saying?\u201d<\/p>\n
I took a breath.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t want us making another child into proof that cancer didn\u2019t take something.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her face changed.<\/p>\n
I continued carefully.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf we want another baby someday, I want it to be because we want that child. Not because we\u2019re trying to defeat what happened.\u201d<\/p>\n
Allison looked at me for a long time.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat was annoyingly reasonable.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m having a good month.\u201d<\/p>\n
She smiled faintly.<\/p>\n
Then her eyes filled.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t even know if I\u2019ll be able to.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey preserved everything, but chemo could still affect fertility.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat if I can\u2019t?\u201d<\/p>\n
I waited.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
She turned toward the sink.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat answer again.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
I moved closer.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut I know it wouldn\u2019t change what I think of you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat sounds easy to say.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cProbably.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo say the hard part.\u201d<\/p>\n
I thought.<\/p>\n
The hard part was not a sentence I had rehearsed.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf we can\u2019t have another child, I\u2019ll grieve it with you.\u201d<\/p>\n
She said nothing.<\/p>\n
\u201cI won\u2019t pretend it doesn\u2019t matter because we have Mateo.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her shoulders lowered.<\/p>\n
\u201cI won\u2019t tell you to be grateful.\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd I won\u2019t make you reassure me that one child is enough.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her eyes filled.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s the part.\u201d<\/p>\n
I understood.<\/p>\n
She had spent years carrying both her pain and everyone else\u2019s demand that she not appear ungrateful.<\/p>\n
One child.<\/p>\n
One surviving ovary.<\/p>\n
One falling tumor marker.<\/p>\n
People always wanted gratitude to tidy grief into something socially acceptable.<\/p>\n
Allison dried her hands.<\/p>\n
\u201cI think I want another.\u201d<\/p>\n
The words were quiet.<\/p>\n
Not certainty.<\/p>\n
Desire.<\/p>\n
I nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t want to decide now.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe don\u2019t have to.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t want to even talk about it for a while.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen we won\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
She smiled faintly.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re getting good at not turning conversations into contracts.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTherapy is expensive. I\u2019m trying to get value.\u201d<\/p>\n
She laughed.<\/p>\n
That evening, my mother came over.<\/p>\n
She brought lasagna and immediately apologized.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know you said no casseroles.\u201d<\/p>\n
Allison looked at the baking dish.<\/p>\n
\u201cLasagna is not a casserole.\u201d<\/p>\n
My mother looked relieved.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve raised two sons. I understand the importance of technical distinctions.\u201d<\/p>\n
My father did not come.<\/p>\n
He had not spoken to me since our argument.<\/p>\n
My mother mentioned him once.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s sulking.\u201d<\/p>\n
Allison looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you going to call him?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEventually.\u201d<\/p>\n
My mother smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cGood.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at her.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou want me to?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI want you to talk when you can talk without trying to win.\u201d<\/p>\n
That sounded wiser than most advice she had ever given me.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere was this when I was sixteen?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cUnder twenty years of exhaustion.\u201d<\/p>\n
Fair.<\/p>\n
After dinner, my mother asked whether she could feed Mateo.<\/p>\n
Allison said yes.<\/p>\n
I watched my mother hold him.<\/p>\n
She had held me that way once.<\/p>\n
That thought had become strange lately.<\/p>\n
Parents existed in our minds as finished people.<\/p>\n
It was easy to forget they had once been terrified beginners too.<\/p>\n
My mother looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou were fussier.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLies.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou screamed every evening from six to nine.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAll three hours?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYour father used to take long showers.\u201d<\/p>\n
The joke landed differently now.<\/p>\n
She saw it.<\/p>\n
Her smile faded.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe didn\u2019t know what to do.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe could have learned.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
No defense.<\/p>\n
No rewrite.<\/p>\n
Just yes.<\/p>\n
Later, after she left, I called my father.<\/p>\n
He answered on the fourth ring.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHey.\u201d<\/p>\n
Silence.<\/p>\n
I almost started with an apology.<\/p>\n
Then decided not to apologize for the wrong thing.<\/p>\n
\u201cI was rude.\u201d<\/p>\n
He said nothing.<\/p>\n
\u201cI shouldn\u2019t have talked to you like I\u2019d suddenly figured out your whole marriage.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s true.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut I meant what I said.\u201d<\/p>\n
He sighed.<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course you did.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMom was tired.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
The answer surprised me.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou knew?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not an idiot.\u201d<\/p>\n
I sat down.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen why didn\u2019t you do more?\u201d<\/p>\n
He went quiet.<\/p>\n
When he answered, the irritation was gone.<\/p>\n
\u201cI thought working was doing more.\u201d<\/p>\n
I understood that.<\/p>\n
Not because it excused anything.<\/p>\n
Because it was familiar.<\/p>\n
He continued.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy father never changed a diaper in his life.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat doesn\u2019t make you exceptional.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know that now.\u201d<\/p>\n
I was not prepared for that.<\/p>\n
He sighed.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour mother and I have been talking.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAbout what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThings I apparently should\u2019ve understood thirty years ago.\u201d<\/p>\n
A small smile came despite myself.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow\u2019s that going?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBadly.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSounds normal.\u201d<\/p>\n
He laughed once.<\/p>\n
Then asked about Allison.<\/p>\n
I gave him the tumor marker result.<\/p>\n
He started to say, \u201cThat\u2019s great.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then corrected.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s encouraging, right?\u201d<\/p>\n
I smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEncouraging.\u201d<\/p>\n
Progress could sound like one changed word.<\/p>\n
The next several days were kinder.<\/p>\n
Allison\u2019s appetite improved.<\/p>\n
Her energy returned enough that she could walk around the block.<\/p>\n
She held Mateo more.<\/p>\n
She pumped the remaining stored milk away in the freezer but stopped looking at it every time she opened the door.<\/p>\n
The countdown to the second infusion began.<\/p>\n
Three days.<\/p>\n
Then two.<\/p>\n
The night before, Allison became quiet.<\/p>\n
I knew better than to ask repeatedly what was wrong.<\/p>\n
Around ten, she came into the nursery while I was folding clothes.<\/p>\n
\u201cCan I ask you something?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAlways.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you ever wish I\u2019d left?\u201d<\/p>\n
I stopped folding.<\/p>\n
\u201cBefore all this?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
The answer mattered too much for instinct.<\/p>\n
I thought.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
She watched me.<\/p>\n
\u201cNever?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI wished the fighting would stop.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat isn\u2019t the same.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI sometimes wished I could be single for one day.\u201d<\/p>\n
That hurt.<\/p>\n
She looked guilty.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t mean I wanted another person.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI wanted one day where nobody needed anything from me.\u201d<\/p>\n
I sat beside her.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you ever get one?\u201d<\/p>\n
She smiled sadly.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
That answer told the truth of our marriage better than almost anything else.<\/p>\n
I picked up a tiny sleeper.<\/p>\n
\u201cI think I thought you were better at carrying things.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI was.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat doesn\u2019t mean it was fair.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked toward Mateo.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m afraid treatment will end and I\u2019ll become good at carrying things again.\u201d<\/p>\n
I understood.<\/p>\n
Illness had made her limits visible.<\/p>\n
What happened when she became capable again?<\/p>\n
\u201cI need you to stop me.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at her.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhen I start doing everything.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s complicated.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause I don\u2019t want to police you.\u201d<\/p>\n
She thought.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen don\u2019t stop me.\u201d<\/p>\n
I waited.<\/p>\n
\u201cNotice.\u201d<\/p>\n
That word again.<\/p>\n
\u201cAsk why I\u2019m taking something on.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd if the answer is because nobody else noticed, then fix that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat's what I need.\u201d<\/p>\n
The next morning, we returned to the infusion center.<\/p>\n
Second cycle.<\/p>\n
Same chairs.<\/p>\n
Same smells.<\/p>\n
Same clear tubing.<\/p>\n
Different Allison.<\/p>\n
Still afraid.<\/p>\n
But no longer confronting the unknown.<\/p>\n
She knew some of what would happen.<\/p>\n
That helped.<\/p>\n
It also made the dread more specific.<\/p>\n
As Carmen connected the line, Allison looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cOne down.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOne down.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd after today?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTwo down.\u201d<\/p>\n
She took a breath.<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n
The chemotherapy started.<\/p>\n
She closed her eyes.<\/p>\n
I held her hand.<\/p>\n
Across the room, an older woman laughed at something on television.<\/p>\n
Someone opened a bag of chips.<\/p>\n
A nurse adjusted an IV pole.<\/p>\n
Life continued.<\/p>\n
Allison squeezed my fingers.<\/p>\n
I looked at her.<\/p>\n
She whispered, \u201cI want to get to the part after this.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
I did too.<\/p>\n
But neither of us knew yet what that part would require.<\/p>\n
The forty-eight hours before Allison\u2019s repeat blood test stretched longer than the two weeks that had come before them. Every ordinary thing became a distraction we pretended not to need. … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":4203,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4260","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-feel-every-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4260","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=4260"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4260\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4310,"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4260\/revisions\/4310"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/4203"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=4260"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=4260"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=4260"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}