“No, I … Well, yes, sort of.”
“That’s certainly a bit more dry than that jerk who asked for Holly’s hand in marriage a few years ago.”
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing. I’m sorry.”
I gripped the envelope in my hands. “Everett told me about how you, I guess, provided for the conversion of a downstairs room for him.”
“She put the den furniture in storage, which I’m paying for. Guess I ought to ship it here, but–” He glanced around his home, as if considering that thought.
“I’m sure she wants what’s best for Everett. We all do. But I did some research, and don’t take this the wrong way–”
“Please. She’s taken everything I’ve done for past five years the wrong way, right to the bank.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“Whaddaya got?” He glanced at the envelope. “Incriminating photos?”
“No, sir.” I grabbed the soda, gulped it down.
“Calm down. Look, we’ve been getting a vague prognosis from his doctors for two months. He might heal, he might not. It’s exhausting, and we’re not deluded. We’re being realistic, but we’re not giving up hope.”
“Sorry. Yes. Here. I think this will help.”
He took it, extracted a cluster of brochures. A few fell to the floor, which he retrieved, then splayed across the glass coffee table before us.
“As much as your ex-wife feels she can care for Everett, and as much as I want to see him, to be with him, I did some research and I found several facilities that, um, I think, could really help him.”
“Diana said the nurse and Helen were doing that for now. We were planning on a rehabilitation regimen–”
“Yes, but them doing it with him alone; it’s just… These places, there’s one that’s nearby, but the one, unfortunately, that’s best isn’t, but it has the most going for it. They have dorms or rooms made for– to help people get used to being independent and activities and the best–”
“You did all this yourself,” he said, calming me, as I’d gotten a little worked up.
“Yes, sir.”
“For Everett.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you’d be okay if he were further away.”
“Well, my mom does let me use her car every now and then, and she and my dad are pretty cool about, well, a lot more cool than your–”
“And this would get him away from Diana.”
“I would be lying if I said I didn’t have some self-interest.”
“Are you always this formal?”
“Excuse me?”
Mr. Forrester, Carl, took a few long sips of his beer, set the glass down, and pored over the brochures. “I think we’ll pass on Wilkes-Barre… Let’s see… Altoona? These are not cheap.”
“No, sir. But I think you know he’s worth it.”
“Hmm, what about this one here in Pittsburgh?”
“It’s smaller, more expensive, just because of the location, I guess.”
“You really wanna drive to Altoona? ‘Cause I sure don’t. The best thing is that we get to visit him, right?”
“Right.”
“If we chose the University of Pittsburgh facility, he’d be right near downtown. He could really use that, doncha think? Us all being close by.”
Actually, by September, I would be hundreds of miles away at college. “He …” and then I choked up, exactly what I’d told myself not to do. “He can’t … you can’t, she can’t just drug him up and pretend he’s never gonna get better.”
“You know he may never walk again.”
“I know that. I mean …” I wiped my eyes. “He’s still that wild funny smartass, somewhere inside.”
“Just not now.”
“I mean, you know him better than I do.”
“I used to,” he sighed, looking away, as if trying to remember something. “You wanna hear a funny story? Actually, it’s not very funny. Matter of fact, it’s downright corny. His mother? Well, her mother warned her about me, still says it, like some kind of ‘I told you so.’ She thought Diana was fooled by me, that I was nothing but trouble, that she ‘couldn’t see the Forrester for the trees.’”
“That is corny.”
“Yeah, well, it’s better than the usual apple-falling bullshit I got as a kid.”
He paused, and I guessed that this was what older men did, commiserate. I realized that I was giving him the advantage over his ex-wife, geographically and financially.
“You love him, right?”
“He … sir, Carl. My life completely changed since I met him. I have a job this summer. I’m not even going to be able to see him, probably, but I’d quit it if I knew I could see him really recover, no matter what that means. I’m not giving up on him. And I hope you won’t either.”
He sat back in the chair, taking me in, this bespectacled nerd who was basically telling him what to do for his own child.
And then I saw that long-gone spark light up.
“Have you eaten?”
“Um, not recently.”
“Chinese or Mexican?”
“Either’s fine.”
“Good. Both.” He rose swiftly, rooted around in a drawer in his kitchen, extracted a cluster of take-out menus, made two phone calls, and as we awaited the pair of deliveries, he almost demanded I have a beer with his second, so I relented.
Over our shrimp fried rice, pot stickers and tacos, I listened as Carl told me one funny story after another about the boy we both loved for completely different reasons.
Hours later, slightly buzzed and full of deliciously greasy food, I shook Carl’s hand, then drove out to a sporting goods store and bought myself a few hundred dollars worth of camping supplies.
Chapter 28
Dressed in a black windbreaker and ski cap while carrying a footstool, it would have been rather difficult to explain myself to anyone who discovered me skulking through the woods to the back of Everett’s house. Fortunately, no one did.
Knowing a tossed pebble wouldn’t do any good, since he couldn’t come to the window, and the possibility of getting caught might even lead to my arrest for trespassing, I stood at the edge of the Forrester’s back yard among a grove of trees for nearly an hour. I only had three days before leaving for the summer, so it was worth the wait.
Lights in each room, even after ten o’clock, remained on in the kitchen and den. When I saw windows brighten upstairs from what I figured was his mother’s bedroom, I approached cautiously, set the footstool beneath the den window, and hoisted myself up.
My calculations proved a bit off. Even while arching up, my nose barely cleared the ledge. I looked around behind me, desperate for a log or piece of lawn furniture; nothing.
I lightly tapped a pane. I heard a chuckle, no doubt Everett’s bemused surprise at seeing the ski-capped top of my head. I couldn’t see in.
“Open it,” he whispered loudly.
Slowly, to avoid the wooden creak, I pressed a few fingers under the ridge of a frame.
“Hey,” I whispered.
“You nut! Wait a minute.”
A crumpled piece of paper hit the window. I heard him mutter, “Damn.” On his third attempt, a crudely folded paper plane sailed through the open slit of the window and past me, falling to the ground.
“I leave on Sunday,” I whispered. “When can I see you?”
Everett whispered back a command. “Tomorrow. Three o’clock.”
I raised my arm, signaled an ‘Okay,’ before nearly falling backward. I stepped down, grabbed the footstool and the paper plane and snuck off back into the woods.
It wasn’t until I had walked home and replaced the footstool in the garage that I pulled the paper from my pocket. Everett had drawn a big outline of a heart. Inside it were cartoon faces of the two of us, our lips elongated in a comic smooch.
Helen snuck me in through the kitchen door as if she were hiding a refugee.
“Eleven years I’ve worked here.
Word gets to the Missus, and I’m on the street.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Not a word to anyone.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“And no funny business.”
“No, Ma’am.”
Even though I knew the coast was clear, that we’d face no interruptions or maternal diatribes, I felt cautious as I entered the office-bedroom.
“Jerr-affe.”
My expected reply halted when I saw it in a corner; the wheelchair. There wasn’t anything unusual about it. The standard metal parts and black seat shone with a new quality. I knew its presence meant hope, in a way. But it also meant more.
“Hey, Monkey,” I said, not looking at him.
He saw my stare. “Welcome to my future.”
“Wow. Have you tried it?” I approached it, gave it a hesitant touch.
“A little. I’m not ready yet. But, well, that’s it.”
I pushed aside my awkward reaction and drew close to him. He lay above the sheets in a baggy T-shirt and sweatpants. We hugged carefully, and kissed and touched, until I pulled back as my hand brushed against a small tube that led somewhere between his legs.
“Careful,” I said. “Don’t want to get your blood pressure up.”
“I might burst.” His grin seemed to pain him. “Hey, nice haircut.”
“Thanks. It’s for my job. Didn’t want to go in looking like a hippie.”
“It’s sexy.”
“Thanks.”
I stood, just taking him in. Unshaven, his hair a bit unkempt, his skin splotchy in a few places, he appeared to be fighting lethargy for my benefit.
“So, I guess you’re off to the woods and I’m off to Cripsburgh.”
“When are you going?”
“A few weeks. Sit!” He patted his bed. I hesitated. “Don’t worry. You can keep your pants on.”
“Okay.”
“This time.”
I settled beside Everett and felt tingles as he affectionately rubbed my crew cut. Even though a few of the smells around him were less than pleasant, as I drew closer, I was relieved to detect his own aroma. I didn’t ask him about any medical details. I wanted what might be our last visit together for three months to be good, happy, normal.
“Mom was totally against it at first,” he said, absent-mindedly taking my hand, rubbing his stomach with it until I started caressing him. “Until Dad figured out how to make the insurance settlement pay for it, or he’s paying part of it. I dunno.”
“I hope he’s selling a lot of condos.”
“Really. So, Dad says this was all your plan.”
“Sort of. Kevin kind of inspired it.”
“Kev? No way. That dude only thinks with his big dick.”
“Actually, he can be a very sensitive, thoughtful guy … with a big dick.”
We laughed. I considered going into further detail, but figured he knew. It was practically his idea anyway.
“But you did the footwork,” Everett said.
“I guess.”
“You really want me to go to this place?”
I cautiously reached my hand up, caressed his face. “I don’t want you to go anywhere, but you have to grow, Ev. I’ll come visit you.”
“Sure you will.”
“I will. I could ditch the park job, stay with you. You know I would.”
“No. I’ll still be here, or there. Where the hell is this place?” He reached for the pile of brochures his father had brought. “Dad picked the one in Piss-bar.”
“Well, it’s good for us, too. We can all visit you, even your mother.”
“Unless you spike her car tires.”
“Stop it.” I wanted to remind him that despite her dislike toward me, and whatever long-term resentment between them, I did have to thank her for giving birth to this amazing little guy whom I couldn’t stop thinking about.
“Hey, do me a favor,” he said, adjusting himself in the bed.
“Anything.”
“The tree you gave me.” He nodded toward the table where it still remained by the window. “Take it somewhere and plant it.”
“You don’t like it?” I asked in half-mocking disappointment.
“No, no, I love it. You know that. It just … it needs to grow, too.”
“Well, where should I put it?”
“You’re the nature boy. You’ll think of someplace.”
“Okay.” I retrieved the forlorn little plant, surprised that it hadn’t wilted to sticks. Helen had no doubt kept it thriving. Standing before him with it in my hands, I felt a pang of regret, as if he were dismissing me.
“You don’t have to do it now. Come here. Helen’ll warn us.”
“Oh.” I put the tree back, and cautiously settled in beside him on the bed.
“Careful of the catheter.”
We touched, kissed and caressed each other, but remained clothed. My hands never went lower, partially in deference to Helen’s warning. But I also held back, denying my curiosity about his immobile legs.
“So. You’re gonna go play mountain man and I’ll …”
“Get better.”
“Or lung cancer.”
“And write me.”
“With coal chunks.”
“Come on. Will you?”
“Maybe. I get headaches, tired sometimes.”
“Don’t worry. I just want you to get better.”
“No promises. Gotta work the wheelchair.”
“That’s kind of the goal.”
“You know, but the meds,” he said softly. “They make my dreams so strange. In one of them, we were together. And we were just walking in the snow, Reid. We were just … walking.”
We lay together, misty-eyed, fingers interlocking, wanting to touch so much more, but settling into a half-sleep, as if we were storing up each other’s warmth while learning again how to be apart. Two hours later, I left the love of my life, all 18.2 years of it.
Chapter 29
Summer, 1979
Everett Forrester
University of Pittsburgh Medical Center
Institute for Rehabilitation & Research
1400 Locust Street Bldg. B, Room 204
Pittsburgh, PA 15219
June 14
Hi, Monkey.
I’ve finally found some time to write you. I hope you’re doing well.
Settling in at the park has been good. I live in a dorm-type cabin with five other people. Our crew includes:
Elliot, our senior ranger. He’s nice, about 40, a hunky older dude with a sexy beard (Don’t be jealous; ha!). He’s basically my boss, but cool about it. He’s been working here for almost a decade. He can be a bit obsessive about things, like picking up trash from inconsiderate tourists. But basically, he’s cool.
Amanda, who’s sort of the assistant senior ranger. She’s been working here for a few years and really knows her flora and fauna. I mentioned our recent visit to the Natural History Museum (minus our little, uh, private inter-lewd) and we got into a really fascinating discussion about glacial shifts and geological changes to the region. Well, it was fascinating to us. I’m basically in nerd heaven.
Scott, a graduate student at Pitt, who’s focusing on Environmental Studies. He’s really charged about fighting nuclear power, went to a few protests back in March after Three Mile Island, and even got arrested! Yeah, he’s also a bit of a hunk. Too bad he’s not my roommate (See above about the jealousy thing. Besides, I think he’s got the hots for Amanda).
Every Time I Think of You Page 15