by Garth Stein
“How’s that?” Evan asks.
“Well, you know, I made arrangements to keep you there. I wanted you observed. I’m a little concerned about this seizure business again. I thought your medication was handling it.”
“It is.”
“I suppose not.”
“A breakthrough seizure is just that, Dad. It breaks through. Get it? You could keep me comatose on your medication and a breakthrough seizure would still break through. That’s why they call them ‘breakthrough seizures.’ Pretty simple concept.”
Carl nods, pursing his lips tightly. “Pretty simple concept, ” he repeats.“And now, suddenly, it’s my medication?”
“Did I say that?” Evan asks, oh so innocently.
“Yes.”
“Well. Mea culpa, Dad. Mea culpa.”
Carl blinks hard. Evan tries not to enjoy watching his father strain to contain his emotions.
Which is what his father does for a living, after all. He’s a containment specialist. Contain the disease. Isolate and remove. Slice and dice. Sew it up. You can do that with emotions, too, if you want. Don’t cry, don’t laugh, don’t get mad. Contain it. Lower the temperature of your emotion until it stops beating. Put yourself on an artificial heart, a mechanical pump. And there you go. Just once, Evan would like to see his father blow up. Just once.
But he doesn’t get the chance. Louise jumps into the conversation, hoping to head off any potential conflict.
“Where are you going now?” she asks Evan quickly.“Home? We could drive you. Maybe you could see this doctor of yours—”
“I’m going to get Dean, ” Evan interrupts.
“From his grandmother? From Tracy’s mother?”
“Yes. So if you’ll please excuse me . . . Stay as long as you like.”
Evan starts to leave.
“We can drive you, ” Louise offers. “Carl. We can drive Evan, can’t we?”
“I suppose we have to, ” Carl says, rousting himself from the couch.
“No, ” Evan says. He glances out the front window. No car yet. Damn. He really has to go.
“Well, you can’t very well drive yourself, ” Carl says sternly.“Not in your condition.”
“I’m not driving myself, I called a car.”
“We can save you the carfare, ” Louise pipes in.
“No, Mom, ” Evan groans.“Dean is in some trouble and I don’t want you two around. It’s nothing personal.” Or is it?
“What kind of trouble?” Louise asks.
Evan roars in frustration. “What part do you want to know about, Mom? The fact that his grandfather who beats him has just moved back into the house, or that he was picked up last night for possession of marijuana?”
“Tracy’s father? . . .”
“Yes. He’s a child-abuser. I have to go get Dean.”
“Well, your father—”
“No.”
“What about this marijuana?” Carl asks.
“Yes, ” Louise says, “does he have an addiction? Is this an ongoing thing? Maybe he should be in treatment. Your father knows many doctors who could help—”
“Mom!” Evan snaps.“It wasn’t his pot. It was mine. He stole my pot to show his friends. He’s never smoked pot before, he told me.”
“Your marijuana?” Louise takes an involuntary step back, horrified by this news.
Evan throws up his good hand.
“Oh, Jesus Christ, Mom, you know I smoke pot. I’ve been smoking it for years.”
She holds her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide, looking at Evan in such shock.
“Dad, tell her, for Christ’s sake. I take it for seizures, Mom. I know you guys know about this. Dr. Melon is a New Age marijuana neurologist. Dad, you know. Everyone knows. Why do I have to deal with this now? I have to go get Dean.”
Evan looks to his father in a plea for sanity, but Carl rebuffs him, takes the opportunity to stick it to Evan, lowers his eyes and doesn’t say a word. A little dig at his own son. You can’t miss Carl’s son; he’s the one twisting in the wind.
But Evan knows that his parents know. They have to know. Carl, at least, has to know. He knows every doctor in Seattle. He even endorsed Evan’s switching to Dr. Melon. Certainly, Carl knows about Dr. Melon’s medicine of choice.
Evan looks again to his mother, who’s a quivering mass of near-tears, shaking, trembling at this unexpected news—that not only is her son a pathetic epileptic with a broken collarbone and a hidden fourteen-year-old son, but that he’s a chronic substance-abuser to boot. It’s too much for her.
He glances toward the door. The car has arrived, thank God.
“Look, I have to go get Dean. The car is waiting.”
“Evan, ”Carl says calmly but forcefully as Evan starts out, “before you go.”
Before you go. There’s always something, isn’t there?
“In light of all these recent events, your seizure—which carries with it an automatic license suspension—”
“I know, Dad. Dr. Melon has already suspended it.”
“Yes, well, with your car being totaled, and now this revelation that Dean has been arrested on possession and that you smoke marijuana regularly . . .”
“What’s your point, Dad?”
“I believe that we should revisit our earlier proposal that you and Dean move in with us. I don’t know what your relationship is with this girl of yours, but from what I gather, she’s very successful in her job. I’m sure she doesn’t want to spend her days looking after a fourteen-year-old boy.”
“I’m looking after the fourteen-year-old boy, Dad. He’s my son.”
Carl makes a face. He looks to Louise, who’s snapped out of her funk and is now glaring at Evan.
“I don’t see any other way, ” she says.“No other way.”
“You guys don’t change, do you?” Evan asks. “I don’t need you to fix it. All you do is try to fix everything in my life. But I don’t need you to fix it. What I need is your support, your faith. I need you to help me. I don’t need you to fix me.”
“We raised you, ” Louise says.
“What does that have to do with it?”
“She’s right, ” Carl agrees.
“She’s right about what? You get to run my life because you raised me? That’s bullshit.”
“That’s a shitty thing to say to your mother, ” Carl barks.
“But it’s not a shitty thing to say to you, is it, Dad? Because you know that it’s true.”
“Now you listen—”
“No, you listen! I’m leaving now to get Dean!”
He storms toward the door.
“Any concern for your collarbone?” Carl shouts after him. “They want to insert screws—but you have no concern about that, do you?”
“No concern.”
“How about your blood levels? Any thoughts about seeing your neurologist? Or any neurologist for that matter?”
“Nope.”
Carl nods slowly, angrily, chewing his lip. Evan reaches for the doorknob.
“Are you trying to kill yourself?” Carl asks.
Evan stops, hand on knob, and turns to face his father.
“Hey, Dad, ” Evan says sweetly, “see this? This is the front door. Be sure to close it on your way out.”
Carl seethes.
“I hope your son never treats you like you’ve treated me, ” he hisses.
“My son won’t treat me like that because I haven’t treated him like you’ve treated me, ” Evan fires back.
“You haven’t treated him like anything at all, have you, Evan? True to your colors. You back off and let someone else raise him, then step in when all is said and done. If it doesn’t work out, whose fault is it, Evan? Not yours, I guess.”
“Hey, Dad, let me show you something, ” Evan says, taunting. “See this? This is the front door—”
Carl rushes to Evan and sticks a finger in his face. At last, a reaction!
“Listen to me, you little shit—”
&n
bsp; “Carl!” Louise shouts.“Evan! Stop fighting, right now.”
“We aren’t fighting, Mom. Dad is just trying to explain to me why it’s my fault that my life is worthless.”
“You make your own choices, ” Carl mutters.
“Like epilepsy was my choice, ” Evan snaps.
“You ran into the street!” Carl shouts.“You ran into the street, that was your choice. It’s too bad you have the personality of a daredevil, Evan, but you do, and you ran into the street because you thought nothing could hurt you. You never thought anything could hurt you.”
“I ran into the street for Charlie!”
“You made the choice—”
“I ran into the street for Charlie!” Evan yells again.
“You learned your lesson, didn’t you. A perfectly good life you had, and you threw it in the gutter, didn’t you. Almost out of spite, I think sometimes.”
“Fuck you.”
“Yes! Out of spite.”
“Yes, Dad, out of spite! Out of spite for you. Because I hated you. I never wanted to be a doctor. I gave myself epilepsy so I wouldn’t have to be the son you wanted me to be.”
“You were never going to be a doctor, Evan. Never. You’re too selfish. You don’t have empathy.”
“Goddamn you! Goddamn you, Dad! I have so much empathy, I bleed empathy. It’s you who doesn’t have any empathy. It’s funny that the world’s greatest heart surgeon doesn’t even have a heart!”
“Oh my God, ” Louise shrieks.“Would you two stop?”
“They both look at her.
“Stop it! Stop it! We’ll leave, Evan. Is that what you want? We’ll leave. Just stop fighting.”
Evan is suddenly struck by all of this, all of the yelling. He turns away from his father, walks absently into the living room and drops down on the couch. He stares blankly at the lifeless TV.
He didn’t want to act this way toward his parents. He didn’t want to fight. After the gig, talking with Mica, it was all so clear: do not blame other people for being themselves, you will only be frustrated by it.
But he couldn’t help himself. He let them draw him into a fight. He let them get to him. Why? Why couldn’t he have just walked away?
There’s too much, too many years for it to happen easily, he guesses. It will take a lot of time. With Mica and Dean he can change his story, because they hardly know him. But with his parents, it will take years. It may never happen.
“Carl, ” Louise says, “let’s go.”
“No—”
“Carl!” Louise says more firmly.
Carl takes a few hesitant steps toward Evan, aware, perhaps, that something has just happened. Sensing that, in an instant, their entire family has changed.
“Can I take a look at your collarbone?” he asks Evan gently.
“No, ” Evan answers.
“Evan—”
“No, ” Evan repeats. He looks up at his father.“No. There’s nothing for you to fix here. I don’t even know why you’re still here.”
“Because we’re your parents, ” Louise says. “That’s what parents are supposed to do. We’re supposed to be here when everyone else has gone.”
Evan doesn’t reply. He returns his gaze to the dark TV, afraid they might see his face.
After a moment of silence, Carl nods, his head heavy. He turns and motions to Louise, who, dismayed, walks to the door. They hesitate a moment, perhaps hoping for a reprieve. And then they leave.
AS THE BLACK car creeps along the highway, Evan leans back and fails to relax; there is too much fight ahead of him to relax.
He takes out his cell phone and tries Ellen’s number; he’s startled when she answers.
“It’s Evan, ” he says.
“Evan, ” Ellen replies cheerfully.“How are you?”
“Tell me Frank hasn’t beaten Dean yet, Ellen. Because if he has, I will personally murder you both, and I’m quite serious about that.”
“Frank?”
“If he’s raised a fingernail against Dean, I will make sure I arrive with squad cars. Tell me Dean’s all right.”
“He’s fine, but—”
“Then why the hell did you bring Frank back!”Evan shouts.“You told me you’d never let Frank near Dean! Why the hell is he back?”
“Evan, he—”
“There is no possible explanation that will satisfy me. I’m on my way to Walla Walla right now and I’m taking Dean back to Seattle. We’ll stay as long as it takes to clear up the marijuana possession charges, but then we’re leaving and that’s the end of it. I can’t believe you would do this to Dean!”
“Evan, Frank isn’t here.”
“Well, not right now he isn’t. But he’s there, believe me. I know.”
“How do you know, Evan?” Ellen asks.
“Dean told me.”
“I see. Well, Evan, Frank was here, that’s true. He came by two days ago to pick up the rest of his things. He was here for several hours loading some furniture into a pickup truck. Then he left. He’s never coming back. I don’t know what Dean could have seen that would make him believe Frank was staying here, but he isn’t, I assure you.”
“But I thought—”
“He isn’t, Evan. I assure you.”
Oh, man. Could Dean have gotten it wrong? Could he have misinterpreted something?
“I’m sorry, ” Evan says.“My mistake.”
“And what’s this about marijuana possession charges?”
“Well, that I know is true. Dean called me from the police station. He was arrested.”
“He wasn’t arrested, Evan. I swear, I don’t know where he’s getting these stories. He was detained. For loitering. In the parking lot of a 7-Eleven.”
There you go with the 7-Eleven again.
“But there was marijuana, right?” Evan asks. Now he really doesn’t know who to trust.
“Yes, there was.”
“See!”
“They found a bag in the garbage bin. The police don’t believe it came from the boys because there was so much, and apparently it’s not the type they see on the streets around here. I’m not much of a marijuana expert. They believe it was only a coincidence: the boys may have unwittingly stumbled onto a drug deal and frightened the culprits who dumped their marijuana in the garbage to escape.”
Thank God the cops didn’t put the puzzle together differently. Obviously Dean stashed the pot in the Dumpster before he was caught. Clever kid
“So there’s no arrest?” he asks.
“No.”
“And Frank isn’t threatening to beat him to death?”
“No.”
“So I drove all night across the state, had a seizure and drove into a telephone pole for nothing?”
“Oh my! What happened?”
“I had a small accident.”
“Are you all right?” she asks.
“I’ll survive.”
“Well, Dean misses you tremendously; he talks about you all the time. He’s spent most of his time in his room.”
“Really?”
“Yes. And he’s made his Christmas list. He would like a guitar and some lessons, he told me. What do you make of that?”
Yes. What does he make of that?
He looks out the window of the speeding car. Outside it is vast and dry. Hillier than he’d remembered; hills that roll about playfully on both sides of the highway. He notices a marshy area and a large man-made lake, the back end of a reclamation project. There are farms and farmers, trucks and tractors, and irrigation systems with giant wheels that drive watering pipes around a central hub. There are fields of fruit which soon change over to fields of grain. There are fields of lazy cows and fields of galloping horses. Fields of futuristic windmills, whipping their blades around to provide even more electricity for the surrounding communities. There are roadside towns that look like they belong in a different age altogether. There are rivers that rush up to the highway and run alongside it for a little while, like a friendly dog, onl
y to veer away quickly. There are children riding dirt bikes through a makeshift BMX course on the side of a hill. There is the road, relentless and sure, flicking its yellow tongue quickly before them, smelling its way to their destination.
EVAN GETS OUT of the car and feels the brilliantly hot air quickly attach itself to his skin. One hundred three degrees in Walla Walla, ladies and gentlemen. One-oh-three. The sidewalk seems to grab Evan’s shoes as he walks. Each time he lifts a foot he hears a sticky sound, like peeling a label of a jar. It’s so hot, the streets are melting.
Evan’s shoulder hurts whenever he takes a breath. He wishes he had gotten some pain pills from the doctor. He steps up on the porch and rings the doorbell. After a moment, Ellen appears behind the screen. When she sees him, her look changes to concern.
“You poor boy, ” she says.“Dean’s around back”
Evan nods and starts off the porch.
“Will you stay for dinner, Evan?” Ellen asks.
Evan is startled by the question; then he considers it for what it is.
“Yes, thanks, ” he replies.
He steps down onto the walk.
“You’re welcome to stay the night if you like.”
“We’ll see. Thank you, Mrs. Smith.”
“Will you be taking Dean with you?”
Evan turns and looks up at her. He can’t tell if she asked with a hint of hope in her voice.
He nods at her slightly. And she nods back more vigorously. She wipes her hands on her apron.
“A boy needs his father more than he needs his grandmother, ” she says, and she fades into the darkness of the house.
HE HEARS SOMETHING, a strange squeaking noise. Squeak, squeak. Like bedsprings. Someone bouncing on a bed.
As he rounds the corner of the house, he can see into the backyard, and there he is. The Boy Wonder. Tossing a baseball into a springy net backstop that tosses the ball back to him. Squeak, squeak, squeak.
Evan opens the gate and approaches cautiously. Dean doesn’t notice him until he’s only a few feet away. When he does see him, he catches the ball and looks quizzically at Evan.
“What happened to your arm?”
“I—” He stops. How does he answer? “I broke my collarbone.”
A half answer at best.
“How?” Dean asks.
What can he say? How can he tell Dean that he drove into a telephone pole, knowing full well that Dean’s mother died less than a month ago in a high-speed automobile collision?
