Every Time I Think of You (19 page)

It was very considerate of your mom to bring sheet music. I didn’t know you could sing so well! Well, I did, but not with so many Cole Porter songs. Pretty amazing. You are so talented. Did you ever do that at home at that big piano I saw?

It’s nice to hear that Holly’s been visiting you, too. She was so nice to me. It means a lot. You know she was the only person who called me after your accident. I really think of her as a sister. I hope to see her again soon when I visit, not until late August, of course. But the first thing I’ll do is hop on the train to Piss-bar and see you.

I’ve been listening to your tapes so much (I still have the other one), I had to give Amanda some extra money for more batteries on her last shopping trip. Sometimes I listen to it in bed with my earphones while Alex is snoring. Okay, that last part where you sing and talk so softly? I admit it, I did rub one out a few times. Just hearing your voice makes me all mushy inside. Well, not mushy in a certain anatomical area.

July 19

Ev, Everything,

I finally saw the most amazing deer. I know, it’s about time, right? In fall, they’re littering up the side of the highways like roadkill. Well, not like roadkill, but actual roadkill. But in summer, they’re pretty discreet. I’ve seen a few others animals, mostly birds: geese, osprey, owls, swallows and a few others. There was talk of a bear sighting, so I was wrong about that. Of course, we’ve seen raccoons, but mostly just around the garbage dumpsters. They’re locked to keep them out, but the smell of food draws them.

But the deer. Wow.

See, I had finally set up my tent in a remote part of the park the tourists aren’t supposed to use. It’s blocked off because the road leading to it isn’t safe for cars since the rainstorm. But I knew the trail to get there, and got permission from Elliot to set up my tent and a few supplies. I’ve been spending a few nights a week out there. I had a dose of cabin fever, since, well, I’m living in a cabin.

Basically, it’s all your fault. No, I’m joking, sort of.

It was on a Saturday night, and we had this big dinner. Elliot made barbequed chicken breasts, and Amanda made this enormous salad. We had a little wine, except Jill, because she’s a Christian, which made no sense to me, since Jesus was the one who made wine so popular. But anyway, Jill, who’s a Christian, reminds us of it at least once a day. Thank her god she likes being all perky with the tourists, and is usually elsewhere in the visitor center or thankfully acres away from me.

The rest of us got a little buzzed, especially Alex, who didn’t have much drinking experience. We got to talking about improvements and construction that are planned for the park (long after I’ll be gone). The first thing that popped out of my mouth was making the trails more accessible for the handicapped. And Jill went off on this bizarre tangent about God’s will and even though Jesus loves the crippled (Don’t you feel lucky?), she started babbling about “dominion over the lands,” how only people who were hardy enough to hike deserved to enjoy the upper and outlying parts of the park, so I just went off on her.

I called you my best friend, but gave a little glance at Elliot. He knew that you were the reason I got him to take those shirtless photos of me. So we’re more than friends. Right?

Jill’s point of view was shot down by Elliot and Amanda, who tried to play mediator. But I got a bit angry and said how wrong it was that you couldn’t enjoy this beautiful park in all its glory without some kind of mule pack dragging you along.

I’m sorry if that’s offensive or anything. I was kind of drunk.

Alex had no opinion, was practically asleep already from the wine, and he’s more interested in bugs.

That’s why I’m typing this from my little campsite with nobody around. And this morning, I emerged from my tent, stark naked with a pee boner, and there, about twenty feet away from me, was this beautiful, perfect immense stag, with about seven points on his antlers. We locked eyes for about a minute. I froze, wishing I had my camera, until he darted away and disappeared.

So, thank you for indirectly causing all this.

Ranger Reid, naked in the woods

PS: I finally got some larger envelopes, so here’s a big one; Pickerel Weed (Pontederia cordata). Pretty neat, huh?

Oh, and I caught Scott naked in the outdoor shower. That’s pretty much the only interesting thing that’s happened. Yeah, he’s banging Amanda. From what I saw in the shower, she’s got good taste.

Jill has left our fair company a bit sooner than expected, probably to join a nunnery.

But enough stupid gossip. Let me tell you about the moon.

Since roommate Alex’s snoring continues (actually, he does settle down to a mild buzz, eventually), and my earphones always fall off in bed, I’ve taken to sneaking out of the cabin for some night hikes. It’s so amazing.

Yes, I do strip down to just my boots. Yes, I am a nature perv. Yes, I think about you and wish you could be with me when I hike up to the peak of nearby mountaintops, slightly winded, my sweat glistening in the moonlight. But you can’t be jealous of the moon, can you?

Seeing the vista, the green rolling hills, and once even, taking a cautious nighttime dip in a stream, it’s like I get completely lost, disembodied and yet so in touch with my body. I can’t explain it, but I’m trying. Naming a faith, a belief, is so beside the point when I hear some nearby animal rustling in the bushes, and get startled, then comforted, being so alone, yet completely filled with the presence of the glow of moonlight on the plants and the water. A few times I’ve gone rutting like some lone stag, or just lain in a bank or rubbed myself on a mossy tree stump, which I don’t recommended, unless you like ants on your butt.

The point is, I found god or whatever, you know, like you said that night in the woods at Pinecrest.

But then, I’ll hike back downhill, waiting to get dressed until I’m close to a campsite or the cabins, and take a peek at the photo Holly took (she made a wallet-sized and a big one; that’s back at home), and I see you and me together, you kissing the top of my head, and I curse that same god that made your accident happen.

I know you said you’ve forgiven what’s his name who hit you on the field. But it’s such a struggle, trying to make peace with it. So much beauty and so much misfortune.

Love, Reid

Chapter 30

Returning home took some adjustment. All the buildings and roads, cars and gas stations struck me as extraordinarily ugly, almost obscene.

My parents welcomed me with enthusiasm, of course, and obligatory hugs. They marveled over my tan and my “rugged” new look, as Mom called it. I had barely seen myself all summer, other than perfunctory bathroom mirror glances.

Once fed, chatted out, and alone in my room, I took a long look at myself, naked, standing in front of the long mirror attached to my inside clothes closet door, and agreed. My hair had lightened and the trace of my day-old stubble was more pronounced. It was as if I’d grown a few inches, or browned to ripeness. I looked almost like a man.

Forced to wait a few days before my visit to Everett in Pittsburgh, I had to fill out university forms and select a course schedule. Once again, I called Holly in advance, asked to stay over. She said she’d give me a copy of her house keys.

I thanked Dad for the offer of a ride to the train station, but instead made a light job of it with my backpack over my shoulders. In the late August heat, I wore shorts and a T-shirt. I read a book on the train, eagerly anticipating my visit. Outside the window, along the train tracks, oak and elm trees stood tall in between the majority of evergreens.

When I arrived at Holly’s apartment, she warned me that Everett had been in a bad mood the past few weeks.

“He’s been really resistant to the physical therapy sessions. They tried a few different med combinations,” she said as we ate a makeshift lunch of sandwiches. “But the anti-depressants made him constipated. The steroids make him moody, and then they said they might operate again, and it got all our hopes up, but then they changed their minds, and, well. He’s not a happy camper.”

“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.

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.

“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.