“Well, I guess it’s been rough for him.”
“It’s not just that. He–” Holly hesitated, fidgeted with her sandwich, then dropped it. “He’s had episodes before.”
“Episodes?”
“He gets depressed and angry, like when our dad left, and a few other times. It’s not like he’s crazy or anything.”
“Well, a little of the good crazy.”
“Well, yeah, but… He doesn’t react well when things don’t go the way he wants them to. He’s kind of been in denial about not recovering, and it’s all kind of finally sunk in.”
While I took in her concerns, inside I was still determined. I was going to see my guy, and was full of hope. I would cheer him up.
But as I took the pair of buses to get downtown, I saw Pittsburgh through Everett’s eyes, as one steep hill after another. How would he get around without depending on others? Who wouldn’t be angry?
The rehabilitation center was smaller than I’d expected, a two-story building adjoining the larger hospital. After signing in at the front desk, I followed the directions, passed patients of different ages scooting by in wheelchairs, and even saw a recreation room where I guessed his little music concert had taken place.
After following the succession of room numbers, I found his door open, and gave it a light knock.
“Hey,” he said casually as he turned in his wheelchair. I stepped toward him and leaned down to hug him.
“I missed you so much. How are you?”
“Oh,” he shrugged. “You know.”
I looked around, eager to find some excuse for an upbeat comment. A cross between a dorm room and a private hospital suite, Everett –or someone else– had added a few personal touches to what had become his temporary home. Framed pictures showed a few Parisian scenes and drawings, assuring me that Holly had become the default makeshift decorator. Above his bed, the Styx Grand Illusion poster with those enchanted woods had been put up with tacks.
“Almost homey,” I half-joked.
“Yeah, Holly did some of that,” he said in a tired tone of voice. “Mom and Helen brought a bunch of stuff. It’s like they just want someplace prettier to visit.”
All the fixtures, light switches and handles were lower, while power outlets were raised, making for a slightly disorienting feeling. I felt both taller and shorter than normal.
While a small counter top and mid-level cabinet shelf were crammed with boxes of cereal and other food, there wasn’t a stove, just a small low sink with room underneath for a wheelchair. The linoleum floor retained a hospital feel. But there was no trace of the medicinal air. It smelled of him, perhaps due to the overstuffed laundry bag in a corner.
“I brought some stuff.” I extracted a pile of pamphlets and brochures, all from Temple University. “Did you know the mascot’s an owl? Pretty funny, huh?”
Rambling on about the scholarship potential for disabled students, seeing other wheelchair students and the layout of the campus, I hadn’t noticed that since I’d been in the room, Everett had remained unmoving, his face knotted into a scowl.
“I don’t know if I even want to go to college.”
“Why not? Holly told me you graduated.”
“They mailed me some tests and then I got a diploma. Big deal. What’s the use?”
“The use? The use is you’re smart and you’ve got your whole life ahead of you.”
“You sound like my damn counselor, Miss Happy Thoughts.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry? You didn’t do this.”
“I know.” I wiped my eyes, surprised by the sudden tears.
“Oh, don’t cry again, please? The guy, from the other team who hit me, Chris, came to visit me, and just could not stop bawling. His parents dragged him here, told me they were praying for me. What the hell is that gonna do? It’s like I’m responsible for everybody else being fucked up.”
This was turning out to be a really unpleasant visit. I hovered over him, hoping to offer another sympathetic hug or perhaps a kiss. He gently pushed me off.
“Look, I appreciate all your help and everything, but if I do go to school, it’s probably going to be at Carnegie Mellon.”
“What?”
“My dad asked me to move in with him here in Pittsburgh after I get released, and, well, the house in Greensburg isn’t right. I hate using his old office as my bedroom, and Mom won’t … It just makes sense.”
“Oh.” Although he’d never said he would definitely go to school, or even with me, I was stunned by my presumption that he would want to be close to me. Trying to make light of this news, I said, “Well, I’ll visit you on holidays, I guess, and make more visits home. It’s not that long a trip.”
Actually, it was seven hours, provided the trains from Philadelphia were running on time. For a moment, I thought to consider abruptly changing my plans, perhaps going to the University of Pittsburgh instead. They hadn’t offered me a scholarship, but I couldn’t bear being apart from him again.
“Yeah, see, Reid, the thing is …”
Anticipating what he was going to say, my reaction strangely began in my nose, like a sniffle, then moved to my throat, a clenching feeling that plummeted down to my stomach.
“I think maybe we need some time apart.”
“I just spent all summer away from you. What are you–”
“Maybe I should just let you go.”
“Go where? If you want me to leave, I’ll come back later.”
“No, I don’t mean just now. Those letters, your mountain adventures. I know you were trying to cheer me up, but it just made me realize … That’s your future, your dream. I can’t be a part of that, like this.”
“That’s not my whole life, Ev. Besides, there are plenty of campsites we could drive to. I mean, maybe we can’t hike, exactly, but I can haul you on my back. I’ll get sled dogs!”
He sighed, as if even faking a smile were too exhausting. “You need to go live your life.”
My mind reeled. If it hadn’t been for me, he’d still be lying on a bed in that makeshift bedroom in Forrestville; Miss Havisham, but a guy. “Oh. You mean go away away.”
“You know, Reid, I’m never gonna be what I was.”
“I never said you should. But I want to be with you. I missed you so much. Please–”
“Why are you so needy? I should be the one whining.”
“Like you’re not already?”
“You need to … let go.”
“But you’re the only guy I’ve ever–”
“That. Is. The point.”
I struggled to understand, blurting out the first thing that came to me. “Well, I guess I can’t see the Forrester for the trees.”
Visibly annoyed, he muttered, “That’s my dad’s joke, and it’s not funny.”
I stood, waiting, frightened of him, for him.
“Everything’s changed,” he almost shouted.
“I know that.”
“I don’t think you do.”
“Look, what is this? You sounded so upbeat in the tape you made for me.”
“That was when I still had some hope.”
“For what?”
“What do you think?” he shouted, incredulous at my ignorance as he pounded his thighs with his fists before forcing himself to calm down. “I want to ask you, Reid.” His eyes twisted to narrow slits, almost accusative. I’d never seen him so angry. “Some people are saying I won’t heal. Ever. Others hope so. What do you think?”
“I–”
“Because if you’re one of those who hopes I’ll change back, who will never look at me the same way again if I won’t, then I don’t think we can be together.”
“Ev, please.”
“Look, I can’t … We can’t even do it, like maybe ever.”
“You think this is just about sex? This is about friendship, too.”
“Reid. You need to … think about a life that isn’t just about me.”
“I can’t
believe this.” The tears sprang out. “You…” I gestured toward him with a movement I would regret for months. “… are breaking up with me.”
“What was that?”
“What?”
“That!” Everett repeated my gesture with an angry jab. “Like I’m supposed to be grateful? Like you’re the one who does the dumping, because you’re not in a chair?”
“No, I’m sorry. No, I didn’t mean–”
“Yes, you did.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Then, what did you mean?”
Lips pressed together, I stared at the ceiling. Okay, if it was over, he was going to get the full dose.
“What I meant,” I slowed down, found a place to sit, to be at his level, so that he wouldn’t feel overwhelmed, loomed over. “What I meant was how upsetting it is that you take this all so casually, the fact that I’m just totally … love you.”
Everett said something in Latin.
I didn’t ask him to translate.
“From the first day I met you,” I said, attempting to stay calm, “I thought, here is this guy who’s wild enough to be right there, where I would be wild. I thought, wow, I got so lucky, right off the bat; first time and he’s … But that same day, the way you turned so casual. There wasn’t a minute that I thought of you and wondered, when will this end? When will he realize what a dork I am? I guess that’s … now.”
Everett sat, his arms folded tight, waiting. He could have left. I knew to let that happen, that wheeling away is the right of a person.
“You should go back to Kevin.”
“Kevin?” I almost shouted. I stood, turning away to see a woman with a clipboard held against her chest standing at the open door, giving me a stern glare.
“Is everything okay in there?” she asked.
“Yes, we’re fine,” Everett hissed. “Could you close the door, please?”
She did.
I lowered my voice to a simmer. “You practically threw him at me, as what? Some kind of substitute? He’s just a … He’s a nice guy, sure, but Jeez, Ev.”
“You need to–”
I drew closer to him. “You know what I need? If you have any other boyfriends who take trains and bang up cars and break into houses and get drunk and practically fuck in front of your parents, one at a time, if you recall, just to be with you, I’d really like to meet him. He sounds like a great guy.”
Everett slumped in his chair even lower. Regretting my scolding tone, I tried to inject a little humor. “I mean, come on. You mailed me your jock strap. If that’s not love, what is?”
At least that got a smile out of him.
“I’m trying to understand what you’re going through. Just … just help me.”
“Do you wanna try it?” Everett wheeled backward to a chair, as if to remove himself from his own. “Go out for a spin. See how far you get before your shoulders cramp and your fingers get caught in the spokes and your piss bag spills and some old lady three times your age asks if you ‘need some help, sweetie?’”
Crouching down before him, I put my hands on his knees, despite realizing he couldn’t feel me there. I said, softly, “You helped me.”
“What?”
“Ev, since I met you …” I couldn’t explain how he’d inspired me, driven me to grow, and by loving him love myself. “I know everything’s changed, but I want to be here for you. It’s what I want.”
Intent on staring at some point on the floor, he muttered, “This is not about you.”
“Oh, okay.”
“No, Reid. It’s not okay. It’s about what I’m going through. It’s about losing everything physical I just took for granted, and it’s falling off my chair when I’m just trying to put my socks on. It’s not fun, and it’s not sexy and it’s just … not.”
And then Everett said what I hoped was a lie. Not one of the many small charming fibs that got him what he wanted, or into trouble, which he also liked; it was what I hoped was his one great lie.
“I don’t love you like you want me to.”
Trying to figure out which parts of him could still feel, and which parts had voluntarily shut down, I offered a hesitant, cautious hug.
“Well, I love you like I want to.”
“Just go home. We’ll talk later.”
We didn’t, for three months.
Chapter 31
Autumn, 1979
My freshman semester at Temple University was spent trying to focus on my studies, to make new friends, and to not think about Everett. In that last effort, I failed miserably.
Not that there weren’t ample distractions in a two-bedroom, four-guy dorm with a common area that almost every weekend erupted into drinking and semi-naked hijinks that never resulted in, to use a sports term, follow-through.
I had been fortunate enough to have Eric, one of my three dorm mates, turn out to be easy-going and a lot like me. A husky ex-jock who actually liked studying, between his biology major and my own, we found an equal fascination somewhere between cells and seeds.
Initially separated, we had decided to change our initial room assignments after a few days. Our collective poster decoration clearly showed that our similarities and differences made the decision a good one.
Eric’s décor was mostly Star Wars and other science fiction movie posters, while my wall became adorned with a map from Allegheny State Park and a poster of the Amazon rain forest I’d bought at the student bookstore. Charlie and Dennis, in the adjoining suite, favored posters of Cheryl Tiegs and Farrah Fawcett, among a few more revealing female centerfolds.
For me, the dormitory’s showers proved to be an infrequent boner-friendly environment. A few guys on my dorm floor had occasionally displayed themselves behind not-completely closed shower curtains.
Eric’s invitations to join him in workouts at the school gym provided more fascinating distractions. The main locker room’s environment turned out to be cautiously flirtatious, while Eric, who was straight, seemed oblivious or dismissive. I limited my timid cruising to lone visits.
I did become distracted by the frequent possibility of furtive sex with strangers, but never took it to completion. I never stopped thinking of Everett. I just put him aside, until I would see or hear a reminder.
One night my roommates decided to drag me off to one of the local bars on a Saturday night, claiming I was studying too hard. Somewhere after the second shared pitcher of beer, one of those anthem-like songs by Styx blasted through the speakers. The guys started singing along, hoisting their mugs.
“I’m okay! I finally found the person I’ve been searching for!”
The tears just sprang out of my eyes, right in front of the guys. Even though I didn’t tell them why I was so upset, they seemed sympathetic, but I just left.
Wobbling my way back to the dorm, I thought of that Styx poster in Everett’s bedroom and at the rehab center, and how I never even thought to ask him if he’d seen them perform, or if he’d gone to concerts with Kevin as I had done a few times. What if we both had, and I’d met him then, and later on somehow managed to get him to ditch that one lacrosse game for another of our secretive meetings?
There were other less convoluted reminders. Several students in wheelchairs lived on campus. The sight of each one of them brought a pang of longing to me. I withheld the frequent desire to walk up to them, burst out with pride some kind of pronouncement that would endear me to them. Hey, the guy I love is in a wheelchair! Let’s be friends!
Instead, I simply made eye contact and greeted those that returned my look with a simple ‘Hi.’ Most times, after their initial surprise, they returned a greeting after the second or third time.
While sitting at the cafeteria, eating a sandwich while highlighting text in my Botany 101 book, I noticed one of those students, a young Black guy in a wheelchair, had rolled up beside me.
“This seat taken?”
“Oh. No.”
He seemed to appreciate my gesture of pulling the chair next to me away
to another table to make room for him. He rolled closer, placed a paper bag on the table next to me. His pants were baggy around his legs. I made a quick estimate as to the level of his injury’s location.
“Devon.” He pronounced it ‘di-VON.’ We shook hands. I felt a pang of guilt for sizing him up for what I thought was wrong with him before actually seeing him.
“Reid.”
“Botany?”
“Yep.”
Every Time I Think of You Page 17