“No, there are some ongoing problems . . .”
Seth’s face changed as he caught the fear.
I did this badly, August thought. I should have come into it through a different door. Not worried him so.
“Oh please, August, spit it out fast. How bad is it?”
“It’s not life threatening,” he said quickly.
Seth sat back against his chair with a thump August could hear. “Well, thank God for that,” he said. “Talk to me. What’s going on? You look great.”
“It’s not the kind of thing you’d see when I’m sitting at the computer. It’s not that kind of sick. It’s just . . . the last few months . . . I’ve been having trouble with my legs.”
Seth’s eyebrows scrunched down. Almost comically, if this hadn’t been such a serious moment.
“Your legs?”
“Yeah. They’re getting weaker. Really for a lot longer than a few months, but you know how you have a million explanations for things. And then after a while it kind of breaks through that it’s something more than normal. I’ve been running after a diagnosis for a while. I think that’s why I haven’t called in months. I didn’t want to tell you I had something like that hanging over my head but no diagnosis yet.”
“But you have one now?”
“I do. As of today. It’s a type of muscular dystrophy.”
August paused. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe in case Seth had thoughts he wanted to express. Maybe because it was hard to go on.
“You have no idea how much I wish I could talk to you and Google something at the same time,” Seth said.
“Well, don’t scare yourself too much with the research. Because there are some very nasty forms that I don’t have. Distal, they call this. It affects the extremities. Hands and arms, calves, feet. My hands are good now but they might not stay that way. But there are a lot of forms of the disease, and this is not the worst of them. It’ll keep progressing, but this one tends to go slowly. And it’s not life threatening. I’ll probably live about as long as I was going to anyway.”
Seth blinked a few times, then took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
Seth’s roommate came bounding in behind him noisily, with a string of words August couldn’t quite make out.
“Pete, I’m right in the middle of something important,” Seth said. “So either shut up or get out.”
“Jeez,” Pete said, peering into the computer screen at August. “Someone’s in a mood.”
Then he disappeared again.
Seth took an audible deep breath and composed himself. “This sounds scary,” he said.
And August, who was in no mood to play games, said, “It is.”
“What’s the upshot of all this? How does your life change?”
“Kind of hard to predict. Depends on how fast it progresses. But I’m already having some trouble walking. I’ve been using a cane for a month or two, but pretty soon it’s going to be two canes. Maybe leg braces. Worst case, I suppose I could end up in a wheelchair, but it might not get as bad as all that. Just depends on how fast it progresses.”
“Can you still drive?”
August wondered if Seth had accidentally bumped into August’s reason for calling, or if he knew exactly where August was headed next.
“I’ve been driving. Up until just recently. Right now my car is in being fitted with hand controls. But later, if I start to have trouble with my hands . . . I may not always drive. Which leads me to what I actually called to tell you. I mean, I called to tell you about my diagnosis of course. But I had to make a decision. And maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it won’t mean a thing to you, but . . .”
“August, what?”
“The motor home has to go. I have to sell it.”
Seth fell silent. August tried to read his face, but without success. Maybe August had too much hopeful speculation wrapped up in whether or not the boys cared about that old rig. Maybe he was only telling himself this story about their unforgettable summer, and how the rig represented that time, making it historic and sentimental. Maybe it was just a big piece of metal to them. Maybe it should just be a big piece of metal to August.
“Couldn’t you get hand controls in the rig?” Seth asked after a time.
“It’s more than just that, though. It’s going up and down those narrow back stairs. And dumping the tanks and hooking up the water and the electric. You have to stand up and have your hands free for that stuff. It’s just a little too much for me now. Already. And it’s not going to get any better.”
“Oh,” Seth said. And turned his eyes down, away from the screen.
“I didn’t know if it would be a big deal to you or not. I know you have some memories tied up in it . . .”
“You can say that again,” Seth said.
It warmed a place in August’s chest. He tried to answer but couldn’t find words.
“How much’re you asking for it?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet. I’ll have to do some research on what it’s worth. It’s old, and it has a lot of miles on it.”
“Let me buy it, August.”
It was something August hadn’t expected Seth to say, and it took him a minute to regroup and pull his thoughts together.
“You sure you want it just for sentimental reasons?”
“No, not just for sentimental reasons. To take trips in. I can use it when I go climbing. I’d have to pay you a little every month, though. I mean . . . maybe a really little. Would that be okay?”
“Of course it would. But are you sure about this? Like I say, it’s old, and it has a lot of miles on it.”
“August. I grew up in a mechanic’s shop. I can fix seventy-five percent of what goes wrong with it and the other twenty-five percent my dad’ll fix for free.”
“Well, that’s a good point.”
“It’s settled, then. As soon as school lets out for the summer, I’ll come down to San Diego and pick it up.”
It lifted something in August’s chest to think of Seth coming for a visit. It was something he’d never considered when he’d made the call.
“Okay then. Settled. Listen. Will you tell Henry the news?”
“No.” Seth shook his head vehemently. “No, I couldn’t, August. It’s big stuff. He needs to hear it from you. I’ll tell you what. I’ll have him call you. I’ll have him call you on the phone next time my dad’s out of the house. Shouldn’t take long. He’s gone all night again most nights.”
“Oh no. I thought your dad was keeping his word on that.”
“That was a long time ago, August. Since I’ve been away at school . . . well . . . I guess he thinks I was the policeman on that plan. And, you know . . . Henry’s fifteen. Not exactly a kid.”
“You didn’t tell me, though.”
“I didn’t want you to worry.” A silence, during which Seth didn’t meet August’s eyes on the screen. “So anyway, Henry’ll call you, and you can tell him yourself, okay?”
“Okay,” August said. “That’s good.”
He dreaded the idea of having the conversation a second time. But Seth was right. Henry needed to hear it firsthand.
“Be nice to see you again,” Seth said, breaking into a shy smile. “Gosh, it’s only been eight years. Huh? How’d we let so much time go by, August? When we swore we wouldn’t?”
“No idea,” August said. “I have no idea why time does what it does. Or why people do what we do. It’s all a mystery to me.”
Henry called a little before ten that night, blasting August out of sleep. August was too freshly awakened to understand that it was not the middle of the night and therefore assumed it was a sign of big trouble. When he realized it was Henry, August was not so much perturbed that Henry would call so late. More humiliated to have gone to bed so early.
“I’m sorry, August,” Henry said. “I know it’s not polite to call this late, but I just got off the phone with Seth and I have to know what’s going on.”
“Henry?” August asked, knowing
but still doubting.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“My God. Your voice has changed. You sound like a grown man.”
“Oh come on. You’ve talked to us since my voice changed.”
“Maybe. But Seth did all the talking.”
August raised up onto one elbow, and Woody came and rubbed against him, as if asking what all the commotion was about.
“What’s going on, August? Seth said you’re selling the motor home. And he told me we’re buying it. Well, him. Well, sort of we. He said he’d take me with him when he goes climbing.”
“You climb too?”
“No! Me? Are you kidding? He’s taking me to Yosemite and Joshua Tree with him, but not up the walls. He’d never get me up the walls, not even with a pitchfork or a bayonet. Not even with both. But why are you selling the rig? First I didn’t think much of it because I figured you were just trading up on a newer one. You know. Must be pretty old by now. But he said no. No more going away all summer. But you love going away all summer. The national parks and the hiking and the driving. It’s almost like you wouldn’t be you without that. And he wouldn’t tell me why. He said I had to call you and let you tell me. So now I’m nervous, and there’s no way I could’ve gotten any sleep. So tell me. Please?”
When he finally wound down, August almost felt a desire to ask one more time, “Henry?” He had never heard Henry string so many words together at one time. Had he changed so much in that regard? Or was his worry bringing it out?
It took August a beat or two to begin. He was still reverberating from Henry’s assessment. That he wouldn’t be August without those summers. It had been playing at the edges of his mind since the diagnosis, but he hadn’t phrased it quite so succinctly to himself. Now that Henry had, he felt a little stunned and wondered who he would be from now on. He couldn’t escape the feeling that it would be someone not nearly as good.
“I’m facing some health issues—”
“Oh God. That’s what I was afraid of. If you say you’re dying, August, I swear I’ll die right along with you. Right here, right now.”
“I’m not dying.”
“Oh, thank God. Thank God you’re not dying. I don’t think I could’ve taken that. So what’s so bad that you can’t get out in that motor home again?”
“Distal muscular dystrophy.”
A long silence.
“Hold on,” Henry said in his still-surprising man voice. “I’m looking that up.”
August waited. Gratefully. He was relieved not to have to run through the whole thing again.
“Oh,” Henry said after a time.
“Could be worse,” August said.
“Could be better,” Henry replied without pause.
Then another long silence fell. August didn’t know whether Henry was reading or just absorbing what he’d already read.
“This totally sucks,” Henry said after a time. “The only thing that doesn’t suck about it is that we get to see you soon. The tenth, Seth said.”
“We? I didn’t know you were coming, too. That’s great!”
“Shit,” Henry said. “Oh. Sorry. Sorry I cussed, August. I just did something stupid. It was supposed to be a surprise. So don’t tell Seth I told you. I said I’d come along to help him drive.”
“You drive?”
“I have my learner’s permit.”
“And that’s all you need?”
“I can’t drive alone. But I can drive with an adult.”
“How old is an adult for these purposes? Eighteen? Or twenty-one? Because Seth isn’t twenty-one.”
“Oh. I didn’t think of that. I don’t know. But . . . well. Even if I can’t drive, I can help keep him awake while he drives.”
“It’s only six or seven hours, you know.”
Henry offered no reply. It was as though August’s comment had just stopped him cold. And August had no idea why.
“But listen to me,” August said. “What am I saying? Of course I want you to come, no matter what the reason. I miss you even more than I miss Seth, because I talk to him more now that he’s away at college.”
A brief pause.
Then Henry asked, “You miss us?”
“Of course I do.”
“I’m sorry I don’t keep in touch the way Seth does. You know how it is. He’s more of a rebel than I am. Always has been.”
“I don’t understand. Why would you have to be a rebel to keep in touch with me?”
“Argh!” Henry said, a breathy exclamation. “Stupid, stupid, stupid. I’m really messing this up, August. I shouldn’t even be talking. I should go back to my mute routine, because I ruin everything. See you in fifteen days. Can’t wait.”
And then he was gone.
August sat up for a long time watching TV but not really hearing or seeing it. Wondering if he was right to think that something about that conversation had seemed strange.
Harvey pulled into the driveway and honked at about seven thirty the following evening. Just as August’s lack of sleep was beginning to catch up with him. Woody leapt up onto the back of the couch and barked loudly enough to hurt August’s ears.
“Hush,” he said to the dog, running a hand along the wiry fur on his back. “It’s just my ride. It’s just Harvey.”
The use of Harvey’s name brought silence and caused Woody’s tail to twitch.
August made his way to his feet and reached for his two canes, which were leaning against the coffee table. He was disappointed but not entirely surprised when Harvey beat him to the door.
“Yeah, I’m coming, Harv,” he said. “Give me a second.”
Opening the door was a bit tricky, because it opened in. He didn’t want to lean forward too far. He didn’t want the door flying open and hitting him or his canes. So he sidled up close to the door, unlocked it, then carefully stepped back several feet.
“Come in,” he said.
Harvey stepped into his living room, got down on one knee, and greeted the bouncing dog.
“He never changes, does he? Still acts like a puppy. Ready to go?”
“As I’ll ever be. Woody, stay and be a good dog. I just have to go to my meeting. I’ll be home soon.”
Harvey held the door for him, then locked it behind them. While August carefully made his way along the walkway, Harvey trotted ahead to his car and opened the passenger door for August. The way everybody did these days. Doors flew open for him at school. Chairs magically pulled back, in the grip of people he hadn’t even seen coming, and were held steady for him as he sat. Seemingly disembodied hands braced his elbows as he stood. Except at home of course. Where he was on his own.
Part of him wanted to tell people to stop. That he had to adjust, to find his way. But each logistical movement through his day was so tiring. It was so much easier to take the easy way out each time.
Harvey took August’s canes from him and placed them in the backseat, then reached for August’s elbow.
“No, I’m good,” August said. “I’ll just get a good hold on this handle over the door.”
He seated himself with a sigh. Woody sat in the window, wagging faintly and watching them go. A flash of a memory darted into August’s brain. Standing under Weeping Rock with the boys at Zion. Seth asking if it made Woody sad to have to stay behind. Which August had never considered before. It must have, though.
Still, every one of us has something that makes him sad, August thought. And no one can save us from all of it.
Harvey plunked down in the driver’s seat and started the engine.
“So. Two canes now. Does that mean it’s progressing faster than you thought?”
“No. It means I waited much too long to go to two canes. I took a couple of falls, and everything was harder than it should have been. Denial. Not that you’d know anything about that.”
“Hopefully this will do it for a while.”
“Unless I develop any weakness in my hands. Then I’ll have to go with those metal ones that go around my forearms.
”
They pulled out of the driveway in silence.
A block or two later, Harvey said, “And yet you look so blissfully happy. Why is that? If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were seeing someone new. That you’d fallen in love. But I’m your sponsor. So surely you’d have told me if that was the case.”
“I’m not seeing anyone new.”
“I suspected as much. It’s the boys. Right? Coming for a visit.”
“I think so, yeah. I mean, I had no idea I looked blissfully happy. But if I do, that’s why.”
“I think your life has gotten too small when a visit from a couple of kids makes you look like you’re falling in love.”
“I don’t think that’s a very nice thing to say. You know how I feel about those guys.”
“I’m sorry,” Harvey said. “I didn’t mean to be dismissive. Love is love. I just wish you’d be more open to trying other kinds of relationships.”
“I know you do.”
He didn’t say more because they’d been through it before.
“When do you get your car back?”
“They’re being a little vague about it. But hopefully next week. I really want it back in time to go pick up the boys at the bus station.”
“Thought they were driving.”
“Change of plans. Not sure why. Maybe they want to drive home together. Or maybe they’re going straight to some kind of trip.”
“You get to ask, you know.” August ignored that. “Well, if they let you down, you know I’ll drive you.”
“Thanks.”
A few more blocks of silence.
Then August said, “Did I tell you about the somewhat odd conversation I had with Henry the other night?”
“You told me you talked to both of them. You didn’t say it was odd.”
“It might be my imagination.”
“I doubt it. If it felt odd, it was probably odd.”
“He just . . . he kept acting like there was stuff he was avoiding saying. Turns out I wasn’t supposed to know he was coming. It was a surprise. But he blew that, so he told me not to tell Seth he had. And then later he got all flustered and acted like he was doing nothing but making mistakes. But I don’t know what the other mistakes were.”
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