Accelerated (16 page)

Fill it, he thought. Decide later. The Rite Aid pharmacist asked for the patient’s birthday and gave Sean a judgmental once-over as he wrote it down.
Bad father
, his arched eyebrows scolded.
Shame on you
.

What he actually said was: “Come back in twenty minutes.”

Back at his desk, Sean stared at the bottle. Orange stickers on the bottle read: “Controlled substance. Dangerous unless used as directed.”

He rolled the bottle between his hands, then struggled with the childproof cap and shook the pills onto his desk. They looked like lavender Tic Tacs. He realized now that there was only one way he could ever give this medication to Toby.

He funneled the pills back into the bottle, leaving one on his desk. He popped it in his mouth and downed it with a gulp of water from the bathroom sink.

He’d never been big on drugs. After his sophomore-year roommate dropped acid and tried to jump off the clock tower. Sean decided to skip the experimentation that kept most of his friends high through art school. Taking the Metattent was different. It was his responsibility to try it. He sat at his desk waiting for something to happen.

Half an hour later, Sean felt exactly the same. Then again, he weighed almost three times as much as Toby. He popped another two pills. Twenty minutes later, he realized he was working steadily. He didn’t feel speedy or shaky. He felt clear-headed and tuned-in. He didn’t want to clean dishes or take a nap. He felt great. All he had was this moment, and it was devoted to the work he was doing.

Exactly four hours and ten minutes later, Sean slammed back to earth. He was tired, and the sandwich he’d made was still sitting next to him. He felt slightly queasy, as if he’d been driving a curvy coastline road for an hour. He looked at the collage he’d been working on. Ellie’s profile was shaded with a ghoulish mosaic of sliced up photos. It was the best work day he’d had in months, possibly ever.

It was only six o’clock. If he took a few more pills, he might finish before midnight. It was in the name of medical research, after all.

At ten o’clock, his body felt tired. His eyes burned. The piece was close to done. He rubbed his eyes and decided that the perfect end to this day involved a beer and a good night’s sleep. He padded across the dark apartment. He hadn’t left his desk all day—not even to turn on the lights.

He opened the fridge and light poured out. He’d been sure there was one last Budweiser in there. He should just skip the beer and go to bed, but now he had his mind set on it. He stepped into his shoes, pulled on his jacket and grabbed his keys on the way out.

He never went to the market this late. The night time shoppers represented a different demographic altogether. Lonely-looking men carried plastic trays of sushi and frozen meals. Students, who made up the remainder of the shoppers, carried economy-size bags of chips and boxes of Entenmann’s donuts. They loitered in the beer section. Sean reached for a six-pack of Bud, but stopped mid-reach. He’d had a good work day. A great one, actually. He took a few steps to his right to the imported section. As he was trying to decide between Pilsner Urquel and Bass, he heard a familiar voice.

“Pilsner Urquel is without a doubt the superior beer,” the voice said.

He turned to see Jess. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold and her eyes looked a little bloodshot, like she’d been crying.

“It’s what the Czech Republic does,” Jess said. “It makes beer.”

“Excellent point.” He picked up the Pilsner. “You on a beer run, too?”

“After the day I’ve had, I thought I better stick to Oreos.” Jess held up a giant package. In faded jeans and a sweatshirt, she looked like a college student out for munchies. “If I turn to the bottle, there may be no turning back.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” he said. “Is everything okay?”

“Not really.” Her eyes teared up easily as though they’d been doing it all day. “Sorry,” she said, not bothering to wipe them away.

“No, don’t be sorry.” Great. He’d made Toby’s teacher cry in the beer section of D’Agostino. “Can I ask?”

She was taking deep breaths and blowing them out her mouth slowly, trying to get a hold of herself. “I just found out. You’ll probably get a notice about it in the next few days.”

“A notice about what?”

“About Calvin.”

“What happened?” He didn’t need to ask. Her face said it all.

“He’s … he died. Earlier today.”

“But,” he fumbled. “What happened? I thought …” He had a sickening image of Calvin’s parents holding their dead child, knowing they’d never see him run around again, never get to tuck him into bed at night. They’d never know how his life was supposed to turn out, where he’d go to college, who he’d marry or what his children would be like. He couldn’t help himself: Sean thought about Toby and everything that lay ahead of him. An entire life still to be lived. His future was open, limitless. If Toby died … no, he couldn’t think about it. Wouldn’t think about it. He pushed the idea as far from his mind as he could.

The devastating fact remained that Calvin was dead. He didn’t exist anymore. How was he going to tell Toby? A metallic taste filled his mouth. The oxygen level in the market was dropping fast.

“I keep thinking about the day we found him,” she said. “I was sure he was going to pull through. I mean, he was just a kid.”

She’d said was.
Calvin was
. He flashed on a playdate the kids had at the beginning of the year. They’d criss-crossed packing string throughout the apartment, and tied it in surprisingly tight knots to chairs, tables, light fixtures, creating a huge, impenetrable web. They’d called it Spiderman’s Lair. It had taken half an hour for them to put it up. Sean spent the better part of the night breaking it down.

He put the beer back on the shelf. “I don’t know about you, but I need a drink. Something stronger than beer. What do you say? A drink for Calvin?”

She nodded. “Okay.”

They went around the corner to a dive-y bar where old men drank in the mornings and college kids joined them at night. Scotch seemed like the only drink serious enough for what had happened. He ordered two.

“To Calvin,” he said, raising his glass. “He was a good kid. A really good kid.”

Jess raised her glass. She looked exhausted. “To Calvin.”

After they drank, there was an awkward silence. “So … what happened?” he asked.

“He never came out of the coma.” She shook her head and took another sip.

“All because of a peanut allergy.” The idea of it chilled him.

“I keep thinking about that day. If I’d gotten the Epi Pen, maybe Calvin would still be alive.”

“Without the information about the allergy, there was no reason for it. This wasn’t your fault.”

“But I found him. It was my responsibility to get him help.”

“
We
found him. And we did get him help. We did everything we could.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and nodded, like she was trying to believe it. “I have to tell the kids.”

“What are you going to say?”

“We’re meeting with the grief counselors over break,” she said. “There are specific ways you’re supposed to talk to kids about death.”

“I could use some tips,” he said. Toby’s world was far from perfect, but he’d never had anyone die on him.

“You’re supposed to avoid euphemisms. Don’t say Calvin passed away. Say he died. Use words like
forever
. Say he’s not coming back.”

The words stung. “That’s so harsh.”

“I know, but you want him to understand. You’re supposed to answer his questions, then not bring it up again unless he wants to talk about it. That’s what we learned in teacher training, anyway.” She paused, then added, “And he’s going to be afraid you’re going to die.”

He hadn’t even thought about that one. Poor Toby. “I guess I’m not allowed to tell him I’ll live forever.”

“It would be so much easier,” she said. “Say you’re young and healthy and you won’t die for a long time. That’s the best you can do.”

“He was Toby’s best friend,” he said.

She reached over and touched his hand. It was a sympathy touch, obviously, but he couldn’t help noticing that her skin was the exact same temperature as his. It was nice, something he’d never thought about before.

“My mother died earlier this year,” she said. “I’m thirty years old and I didn’t think I could survive without her, and sometimes I still think I can’t. How do you deal with death when you’re eight?”

“I’m sorry.”

She smiled sadly. “I’ll say from personal experience, give Toby some time to process the news before school starts again.”

That was a problem. Toby was scheduled to get home the Friday before school. He signaled to the bartender for another round.

She took the drink skeptically. “For the record, I’m not sure what happens to me after two Scotches.” She raised her glass and took another sip.

For the next half hour, they talked about death.

“We’ve gotten ridiculously heavy.”

The bartender watched Jess sway slightly and slid a wooden bowl down the bar. It stopped in front of them and they stared at its contents.

Jess picked up an unshelled peanut as if it were a piece of plutonium. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

So what if it was morbid? Laughing was a relief. “Maybe we should take it as a sign and change the subject,” Sean said. “So we don’t have to slit our wrists when we get out of here.”

“Deal,” she said, pushing the peanuts out of the way. She reached into the D’Agostino bag on the floor and produced the package of Oreos. “They’re the perfect bar food,” she said, tearing open the package and offering him one.

The Oreos went surprisingly well with the Scotch. “Do you have far to stumble home?” he asked.

Jess twisted open the cookies and ate the halves individually, the way Toby did. “Oh, uh, I’m not actually staying at home.”

“So, where are you staying?”

“With my godmother,” she said. “She lives near here. My place is farther uptown.”

“So you have relatives in the city? That helps.”

She scraped the white stuff off the cookie with her teeth. “I have a confession.”

If they were confessing, the evening must be going well.

“So you know Bev Shineman?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said, willing his face not to be expressive.

She let her shoulders drop in defeat. “She’s my godmother. I don’t know if you knew that already.”

“No,” he said. He hated the idea that Jess was related in any way to Bev Shineman. “Are you two … close?”

“She and my mom were college roommates,” Jess said. “And since my mom died, she’s been right there for me. So yeah, I guess we are.”

“That’s how they found you? Through Bev?”

“It’s kind of embarrassing. Nepotism.”

“It’s only nepotism if you’re unqualified. I don’t think that’s an issue.”

She accepted the compliment with a grateful nod. “Still … weird.”

“Yeah, a little,” he admitted. “And you’re … staying with her?”

Jess picked at something that had hardened on the bar decades ago. “Yeah. It’s kind of complicated.”

“Roommate drama?”

“You could say that. Except my roommate is my fiancé.”

So there was trouble in paradise. “Want to talk about it?”

She considered it and looked like she was about to say no. “We’re on a break,” she said, twisting open another Oreo. The miniscule diamond was still on her finger.

He watched her chew. Her jawline curved perfectly up to her earlobe. If it didn’t sound like a come-on he’d ask if he could draw her. “What happened?”

She shrugged. “Complicated.”

“What does he do?”

“He drives a FedEx truck. For now.” She said it a little defensively. “He was just rejected by Columbia Business School for the second time.”

So the guy was a fuck-up. “It’s a tough school to get into,” he said.

“He was always the one who wanted to come to New York and get a great job. Only I got it.”

He nodded, sympathetically. “That can be tough on a relationship.”

“Yeah,” she said with a sarcastic smile. “Tell me about it.”

“So … and tell me if I’m out of line, but don’t breaks usually lead to break
ups
?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “You tell me. Are
you
on a break or have you broken up?”

“Touché.” The truth was, he thought about taking off his own ring every day, but he couldn’t do it. It wasn’t so much because of Ellie. It felt like a lie walking around without it. “Legally I’m still married.” He tugged at his ring distractedly. “I haven’t seen Ellie for almost four months.”

“So what are you going to do? About being married, I mean?”

He’d been wondering the same thing, but no one had asked him the question point-blank, not even Nicole. “I have no idea.”

“I mean, what if your wife walked in tomorrow and said she wanted you back, wanted to go back to the way it had been. What would you do?” She took a sip of her drink and watched him with interest.

What
would
he do? He wanted to say he’d never take her back, but the idea of throwing in the towel once and for all was too grim. “It’s hard to imagine going back to the way it was,” he told her. “Things were pretty messed up by the end.”

She nodded like she understood exactly what he was talking about. He wondered if she did. “Sometimes I’m not sure humans are meant to mate for life,” she said. “From where I’m standing it doesn’t seem to work out so well.”

Perversely, he felt the need to be optimistic. “Some people manage to figure it out,” he said. “I bet you will.”

There was a pause, during which he thought about what it would be like to mate with Jess. He cleared his throat. If he didn’t change the subject, walking out of here was going to be humiliating. “Have you tamed the extra-credit parents yet?”

“They’re kind of intense,” she said. “I gave back all the loot, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“So you have the moral high ground. Excellent.”

“It’s all I can have with this crowd. Most of these kids are living lives I didn’t think really existed.”

“When Toby started at Bradley it was like we’d landed on an alien planet,” he said. “I understood the life form there was scientifically significant, but I was completely freaked out. To tell you the truth, until this year I pretty much stayed away from the other parents.” He thought back to last year and all the years before it when he’d let Ellie handle everything. He hadn’t realized then how much of Toby’s life he’d been missing.