Some days, he would ask Elizabeth for more. For more of whatever she could give him. But he was no longer sure if that meant medication to treat his condition or medication for his pain or medication to numb out that which he knew was coming. It was like having thousands of tiny spiders, living inside him, haunting the walls of his skin, of his soul, dying to steal from him—his life, his abilities, his courage.
For now, he still had his strength. Hardly anything had changed physically, and there was a time when this made him hopeful. But now, these very abilities felt like a mocking. A way for the spiders to build him up before scuttling through and robbing him of everything that made him who he was.
When he couldn’t sleep at night, they would hiss to him and scratch at him and he knew that once he unleashed them, once he let them out, it wouldn’t be long and he would be quivering mass of weakness. Lying there, dependent. Cameras flashing. His fans’ pitying sighs and sobs.
He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t. He would ask Elizabeth for more. And he would begin to formulate a plan.
From time to time, he would try to call Jess, but there was never an answer—never a return text—and so he decided, eventually, that this was just as well. He couldn’t bear for her to watch him crumble and fall. She who was so vibrant and so alive. Such a perfect pocket of humanity. Her kindness and her generosity and her intelligence. The lilt in her voice.
His stomach twisted as he recalled the tender curves of her form. Her perfect breasts. Her long neck. The way she shuddered when he sucked at her earlobe. The way her back arched toward him as he moved inside her. The perfect rhythm of their union.
He smiled now and folded his hands across his chest. He had been her first—her first lover—and that was something no one could ever take away. She would remember him always, the way he once was.
Jake’s eyes fluttered closed. He was done grieving the life that was. He was done being angry. He was done.
***
Jess
Evan Everhart couldn’t have been more kind or more thoughtful. He had gone with Jess to speak to the administrators at her school and had helped her to find a temporary living arrangement. He had even, from time to time, helped her feel as though this could actually be the right course of action for her.
But he hadn’t been invited to spread Grandma’s ashes. This was just for family. They all rose early one morning. Andrew borrowed a friend’s boat and they took it out on the lake, just after daybreak, the time of day that Grandma loved best, and they each said a few words and then they lowered the urn toward the water. With trembling fingers, Mom let go. Jess had been expecting it to bob for a moment, to float out near the boat where they could all watch it, but of course, it didn’t. As soon as Mom released it, the urn disappeared from site. With an unsettling blurp, it vanished beneath the murky water and that was that. Jess imagined it plummeting to the lake bottom and she felt breathless and thirsty.
And now they were home, all gathered in Mom and Dad’s living room. Jess couldn’t shake that quivery feeling in the center of her. Her legs felt weak, as though she might fall, as though her knees might give way and send her tumbling to the ground.
Jess wanted nothing more than to be alone, yet she couldn’t bring herself to descend into the basement, to her bed. It smelled of Grandma there. Even after she’d been gone longer than a month, and so she was forced to sit in the room with her mother and her father and her sister and her brother and to listen to the bloated silence between their words. “Grandma would have enjoyed the sunrise this morning,” Andrew said, and mom nodded and dad nodded. “The temperature sure was nice. So warm for so early in the day.”
The house phone rang then and Jess startled. It was like a call from the grave, for Grandma was the only person without a cell phone, and so she was the only one who ever used the land line. This was the number in the white pages and in the list at the senior center, and this was the way Grandma’s friends could get in touch with her. The volume was cranked as loud as it would go. It rang again and they all looked at one another, yet no one made a move. Finally, Monica stood and went to the kitchen, but she was back before she’d said a word and no one asked. The clock on the mantle ticked. Mom uncrossed, then crossed her legs. Her pantyhose rustled.
Jess’s mother hadn’t been talking much to her, and Jess understood. She’d failed her parents in so many ways. But she would pick up the pieces now. She would do what they asked of her. She would get on with reality and with the business of living her life—the real one. The one that required commitment and responsibility and finishing what she started and choosing a path and sticking with it, and… what had Evan said? Of serving and ministering to people who were hurting, who needed help even on those days when she may have fallen out of love with the idea of it all.
She would do her penance. If she thought about it this way, it wasn’t so hard. How much penance would one need to do for causing the death of her grandmother?
The phone jangled again, and Monica slapped at her thighs this time as she stood to answer it. In a moment, she was back, shaking her head.
And then it rang again, and Jess rose to her feet this time. “It’s okay, Monica. You sit.”
“Yeah, clean up your own messes for once,” Monica snarled.
“What does that mean?” Jess whispered, but everyone had turned toward them. Everyone was watching.
Monica waved her hand in the air. “Someone says she needs to talk to you about Jake Lassiter, so I was trying to save you the trouble. I was trying to hang up for you.”
Jess had a sensation of floating. Maybe he was coming to her. “If they keep calling…” Jess tried to sound nonchalant. “Maybe I should just talk to them.”
Monica rolled her eyes. “Here we go.” Her mother and father just looked on, no change of expression, as though this was all they could expect from Jess, from now on. Like nothing else she could do would surprise them.
Once in the kitchen, near the phone and out of sight, she leapt for the receiver with a desperation that took her by surprise. “Jake?”
Sixteen
Jess
“Don’t hang up!” It was Elizabeth’s voice. “For the love of God. It’s a matter of life and death.”
“Elizabeth?”
“Oh, Jess. Thank goodness.”
“What’s going on?”
“Has Jake made contact with you?”
“Many times.” Not that this contact had been returned, but that was none of Elizabeth’s business.
“Oh.” She let out a huge breath. “Today?”
“No. Not today at all. Not for a while actually.”
“So you haven’t talked to him today?” Her voice trembled.
“No,” Jess answered. “Why? Is he coming here?”
“I don’t think so, Jess.” And then Elizabeth began to sob.
“Elizabeth?” Jess swallowed hard. “What’s going on?”
“Jess, I think I need you. Could you… could you get on a plane? Please? Just come out here and help me. I don’t know what to do. But I think you will.”
“Jake and I aren’t—”
“I know, but none of that matters now. We’re going to… we’re going to lose him, Jess. We’re going to lose Jake, and I fear you’re the only one who can help us.”
“How could that be true?” Jess said, too loud. She clasped her hand over her mouth, over the receiver. “Is Jake in some kind of danger?”
“Grave, grave danger, Jess. I’ll explain everything, as soon as you tell me you are getting on a plane. Please, Jess. Help me.”
Jess teetered as though her legs might buckle.
“Get to the airport, and call me back on this number when you’re in the car, on the way.”
Jess’s breath made puffing sounds. The room seemed to blare in and out. “I don’t even have a car,” she whispered.
“Well, figure something out. If you don’t get out here right now, we’ll lose him. He’s going to die, Jess. Jake is
going to die.”
“What makes you think that?”
“I just, I just know. I’ve seen this before. I know his type.”
“Jake is a type?”
“I’ll explain everything, just… If you love Jake like I do, you’ll get in a car, anybody’s car, and you’ll get here. Hang up right now, I’ll arrange your flight. Call me back in five minutes when you are on your way.” And then there was a soft click on the other end of the line.
Jess hung up the phone, then, as silently as she could, and she stood in the doorway. Her mother and father looked at her, blinking slowly. Monica tapped her foot. Andrew and Kelly turned to one another, then back toward her. Everyone was just blinking and time stood still.
“I’m going out for a walk,” Jess said, finally. “I need to clear my head.”
Monica stood. “Then I’m coming with you.”
“No, Mon. I just really need to be by myself.”
“No way. I’m coming.”
Andrew grimaced. “What’s going on between you two?”
“I just don’t trust her,” Monica said. “She’s bound to do something stupid. To leave us again.”
“She doesn’t need a babysitter, Monica,” Andrew said, “If she says she needs to go out, she needs to go out. Jesus.”
Monica grabbed for her arm and Jess snapped out of her grip.
“Why are you taking your purse and your phone, Jess?” Monica demanded. “You never take your phone. I’m telling you guys, Jess is up to something.”
“Monica, really,” Kelly said, taking Monica by the hand and leading her to the couch. “Sit down.”
“Are you losing your mind, Monica?” Andrew asked, “She wants to go out for a damn walk.”
“You never know what she’s up to—“
That was the last Jess heard before the door slammed behind her. Her gauzy black dress snapped in the wind, and she wished she had grabbed a sweater. Once she got around the corner, out of sight from the windows of her home, she called for a taxi to pick her up at the convenience store at the corner. She had to squint to make out the address, and she walked forward, one foot in front of the other. Even as she did, she wondered why. Why was she getting involved? Was it because she couldn’t bear the thought of two people dying because of her? Was it because she was dying to know, once and for all, what Jake had been hiding all this time? She wasn’t sure, but she called Elizabeth just the same.
“You’re on the next flight,” Elizabeth said, “I’ll be there when you get off. Truly, there’s not a moment to lose, so don’t miss that flight.”
The cab hadn’t arrived yet, so she felt things were more or less out of her hands. “Elizabeth, I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell is going on.”
“Okay, Jess. I’m going to start at the beginning. All of these things Jake should have told you, but didn’t. Can you hear me okay? Is our connection okay?”
“Yes. Just go. Tell me.” Her heart was racing, suddenly, as if it might explode from her chest.
“Jess,” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Jake has ALS, or well, something like it. Do you know that that is?”
“ALS, as in Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis? As in Lou Gehrig’s disease?
“Yes. How much do you know about it?”
“I know it’s…” She was about to say always fatal, but decided against it. “I don’t know a lot.” She found she couldn’t access her knowledge of anything. Of anything medical or technical, not when it came to Jake. Not when it came to someone she loved. And she did love him. She knew it with a certainty, suddenly and all at once, and it forced the air from her lungs.
“Jess, did I lose you?”
“No, no, I’m here. I don’t know much about ALS. Not at all. But I know it has something to do with the nerve cells in the brain and in the spinal cord.”
“That’s right. Basically, these cells, which control motor function, begin to die. At first, a patient with ALS may experience weakness, maybe at first in either a leg or a hand or in the face, even the tongue. Over time, the weakness spreads to cover both arms and both legs.”
Jess thought then of Jake’s arms, of the way he tried to pull her from the river. The expression of sheer defeat and torment as he lay on the banks. She winced. Why hadn’t he just told her?
“Eventually,” Elizabeth continued, “the patient reaches a point at which the nerves are no longer signaling the muscles to move. Not in the arms or the legs or the trunk, and not the muscles that control swallowing and breathing. That means that ALS is a fatal diagnosis, Jess. And… it’s not an easy end.”
Jess squeezed her eyes shut. “How long has he had it? How long has he known?”
“Well, that’s the interesting part. He’s known for close to three years now. It was his diagnosis, in fact, that really prompted him to write his book. He thought he would be dead so soon, and so he wanted to write about the lifestyle that meant so much to him. But then he kept on living. It’s interesting… a full half of the patients with this disease don’t live as long as he has already, and his symptoms hadn’t been as pronounced as anyone expected.”
Jess pressed the phone tight to her ear, as though hearing Elizabeth’s words more clearly would help her to understand them, to understand what she was supposed to do now.
Elizabeth went on, “With the publication of Jake’s book came, as you know, a rather freakish bit of success, and, along with it, a freakish influx of cash, with which he determined he would do everything he could to fight this disease. He is one of only three patients in the United States who has been chosen for an experimental program to stop or stall the progression of this disease.”
“I didn’t even know that was possible.”
“Well, we’re not entirely sure that it is. But, with Jake, we aren’t exactly sure what we’re dealing with either. Even now. After observing Jake, we think he might have some alternate form of ALS because it’s just not progressing the way one would expect. It had been quite responsive to our method of treatment, until…” Elizabeth cleared her throat, exhaled and continued. “Let’s just say that, at one time, Jake’s condition showed great, great promise. So much promise that it made us question whether we were dealing with perhaps a new and different form of the disease. One that perhaps was treatable. This isn’t the time to go into the details, but we do still have hope. It’s only a glimmer, but it’s there.”
“So what is your role in all of this, Elizabeth?” Jess blurted. “That’s what I’ve never understood.”
“I’m a neurologist, specializing in ALS. This has always been my field of study, and I work with the leading researchers of the disease. The form of therapy that Jake is getting is nothing short of groundbreaking, and Jake is sort of our poster child. He has responded so well to treatment, and, as such, he must be observed very closely, and so I have been living with Jake, well, living in his guest home, where we have a private area for him to take his treatment. We feel it’s best for me to see him, to witness and observe him.”
“Isn’t that expensive?”
“Terribly. Much of it is paid for by a grant from the leading ALS charities. Some of it is paid for by Jake himself.”
“So when you came out here… When you saw us in the hotel?”
“It was time for Jake’s dose. To stay on target for the research, he needs an injection exactly every seventy-two hours. If he misses one, it confounds everything, and we all have far too much riding on the outcome of this research to allow that to happen. So, I’ve been following Jake around like a damn puppy dog. Not my favorite part of the job description, as you might imagine.” She sighed, paused, then continued, “Somewhere along the way, I’m afraid to tell you, I fell victim to his charm. Not that he ever had eyes for me. It’s always, always been you.” Her voice grew quiet. “Do you know that he actually carries an old photo of you around in his pocket?”
“He does not.”
“He does. He has, ever since I’ve known him, though I didn’t know
it was you until I met you myself. When I asked him about the woman in the photograph, he would simply reference his ‘Girl from the Hallway’ chapter and he would lament how he could never bring you into his life, for he felt he had reached the end of his own tragic story.”
“Wow.”
“Once I met you; once I witnessed the renewed energy you gave to him, I pushed for you to know the truth. I told Jake that you could be instrumental in his healing. But he absolutely refused. And, patient-doctor confidentiality, I can’t breach that.”
“I understand.”
“Jake has always been willing to let us administer the maximum dose of our experimental medication. He has always said that he wants to beat this thing, or he wants to die. And he had been handling it really quite well, as long as he follows the rules. At times, the injections we administer can make him a little bit loopy. Certainly, they make him sleep a lot.”
Jess smiled. That explained a lot. “That’s why you didn’t want him to drink any alcohol. Not a drop.”
“Precisely.”
The cab pulled up now and Jess raised two fingers. “Airport please,” she whispered to the driver, who gave a curt nod and sped off.
Elizabeth continued. “Now, Miranda and I knew the medication could make him a little nuts. A little erratic. That, combined with sleep deprivation and, of course, the mental state of a man who knows he is most likely terminal, and all bets are off.
“Now, under the agreement he signed before treatment began, he was to be directly under a doctor’s care at all times. Absolutely all times. But, because he was feeling so well, Jake didn’t take well to the hospital bed, even for just the hour or so it takes, every few days, to administer his medication and to monitor his symptoms. And when he discovered he had the opportunity to reunite with you, he pushed me away, quite literally, and he made off like his life depended on it.” Elizabeth’s voice grew quiet. “Who knows, maybe it did…”
Jess cleared her throat, and tried to line up all the questions that were flooding her mind.
Elizabeth’s voice dropped low. “I should have told you before, Jess, I know. I just…I thought it should come from Jake. Legally, it needs to.”
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