—Laughter & Death,byEzell Farr
Gladstone, Massachusetts
November 2012
The government kept half, ofcourse, and Molly Magnuson another 10 percent. But Noah’s cut helped soften the taxes, and when all was said and done, AJ had raised just under three hundred thousand dollars.
Meanwhile, in addition to Comic-Con, Mike had attended Gen Con, the Indianapolis gaming convention, where he had raked in a total of $124,398.87 in competitive video game winnings, dungeon mastering fees, and the sale of several rare Magic: The Gathering cards.
Byronopened the week of Thanksgiving. Instead of going to see it, AJ took Brian and Mike to see Patrick, who had finally moved home. As baby Claire crawled around the living room, AJ and Mike informed their brother that they had managed to pull together four hundred thousand dollars. Patrick covered his face with both hands and burst into tears. At the sight of his improved mobility, so did AJ and Mike.
Patrick was rapidly regaining strength in his right leg; his left leg was still immobile, the muscles atrophied to the point of unrecognizability. But he wasn’t focused on that. With the amazing recovery of his left arm, he felt confident that walking with leg braces was in his near future.
In the meantime, Gawain Mabon-Fay had outfitted their home with ramps and handrails, and Elle had relocated the primary bedroom to the first floor. Patrick’s world now largely consisted of the downstairs area of his house, but after nearly a year abed at Simmons, it felt expansive.
“I’m so f-u-c-k-i-n-g happy to be home,” said Patrick over supper. “I can actually feel my energy returning, being around the kids again.”
As if on cue, baby Claire gurgled from her high chair and threw a grilled pepper at her brother.
AJ laughed, though she felt subdued. After the meal, she volunteered to clean the grill. Evening had fallen on Pat and Elle’s small back porch. As she scraped the char off the cooking grid, moths flitted toward the glow of Raven and Gawain’s Airstream in the driveway. AJ took a breath; the mild mountain air was freedom in her lungs.
The glass door slid open, and Elle approached her with two LaCroix. Together, they threw the black polyester cover over the grill, then popped the aluminum tabs.
“Hey, thanks for dinner,” said AJ, as they touched cans.
“Hey, thanks for getting us four hundred grand,” said Elle.
They both drank deeply, looking out across the yard. A light came on in a neighboring house—a portal into other lives, other problems.
“How are you doing?” Elle asked, nudging AJ’s arm. AJ leaned back against the railing and contemplated the moths.
“Honestly, I thought I would feel happier,” she said, glancing at Elle. Her hair was longer and wavier than AJ had ever seen it—shades of Esmerelda breaking through the suburban patina. “I know it’s just a dent. Maybe once the whole thing is paid off—”
Elle shook her head. “What you did is incredible,” she said. “Truly, Age. You should feel proud. We’re so grateful.” She leaned on the rail beside AJ, sipping her seltzer. “It’s just that nothing can ever…undothe accident. Not even this. That’s why you’re bummed.”
A lump formed in AJ’s throat. Elle was right. Deep down, AJ had convinced herself that if she could erase this awful debt, it would all be okay. But the truth was, eradicating Patrick’s bills wouldn’t fix his legs.Now, the filter between AJ and the reality of Patrick’s situation had been removed, and she felt disconsolate.
“For me, it was getting him home,” said Elle gently. “It’s bargaining—If I can just get him home, then this will be better.When he got here, he was so happy, and I felt as down as you look.”
AJ swallowed. “How areyoudoing?”
As she heard herself ask the question, she realized that she really meant “How are you doingthis?” Elle had signed up for a young, vibrant, able-bodied person whose very essence was promise and potential. Someone who had offered hera full life. A normal life.
Now Elle was running an entire household and rearing two kids with a single working pair of hands. And what of their marriage? AJ had never spoken to Patrick or Elle about their sex life and didn’t know how to begin, when it had so obviously been impacted.
Elle looked up at the stars, then smiled sleepily over at AJ. “Not gonna lie, I’m tired,” she said. “But I’m okay. I don’t know how people do this without help. Your parents. My parents. You and all your siblings. The way everyone’s stepped up is just beyond—”
She reached over and squeezed AJ’s arm, and the two of them shared a comfortable silence.
“Pat is amazing,” Elle said after an interval. “Every ounce of progress is like a drug to him. It makes it so much easier that he’s not bitter. I think it’s a gift of growing up with Emily—he’s not ashamed of needing help. He feels bad when he can’t pitch in, but he doesn’t make himself a problem, you know? It’s a lot of actual labor, but very little emotional labor, which I appreciate.”
AJ considered Elle’s interpretation. AJ’s own response to Emily had been the opposite, always striving to be independent enough for them both.
“Do you ever think things will get back to normal?” asked AJ. It was a young question, and she regretted it instantly.
Elle didn’t seem fazed; she was used to speaking with small children. She took a sip of her LaCroix and gestured toward the Mabon-Fay Airstream.
“It’s funny—for so long all I wanted was to be normal. But then something like this happens…” She shook her head. “Like, thank God my parents are such freaks. Thank God they could just pick up and come here and not bat an eye about living in a trailer for eight months. Thank God for my insane mother. She may not believe in deodorant, but she believes there’s more to this life than what you can see with your eyes. And because of her, so do I.”
