Don Winslow: While Drowning in the Desert

I’m sure he was happy to see his fiancee, Karen. You remember, Diary, the nice girl that Neal would not get in a family way? She came in today as usual, but she had a special gleam in her eye, if you know what I mean (blush, blush). She came in and said hello to us and kissed Neal on the cheek.

“How are you?” she asked.

“Better,” he said.

“Headache?”

“No.”

“Shoulder?”

“Not bad.”

She smiled and dug into her purse. Then she pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and slipped it to me. “Sweetie,” she whispered, “can I treat you to a movie or something?”

She winked at me and I winked back and then I rolled Nathan down to the cafeteria. They have slot machines there.

Karen was pulling the curtain around Neal’s bed as we left. I don’t know what went on in that room while we were gone, Diary! (Blush, blush.)

Your confidante, Hope

Men are dependable, god bless’em. You can bust them up, throw them down a mine shaft, and half drown them… they can have broken bones, a cracked head, and a body that’s one big bruise… in short, they can just hurt all over, and if that one part works they still want to, you know, do it.

It’s just one of the things I love about them.

Not that I jumped right into the sack. (“Eased” is more like it, anyway. When the moment came I “eased” into the sack, Neal being in a delicate condition and all.) First we made a little small talk.

“Petkovitch is suing you?!” I asked when Neal told me.

“He’s suing you, too.”

“That’s outrageous,” I said. “Do you know a good lawyer?”

“I don’t think we’ll be needing one,” Neal answered. “He’s also suing Mickey the C.”

“That’s not real bright.”

“It’s downright dim,” Neal said. “Mickey the C’s idea of playing rough includes a little more than sarcastic remarks in his correspondence.”

“I noticed.”

“Right.”

“So how are you?” I asked.

“I hurt all over.”

“One big bruise.”

“One big bruise.”

“I gave Hope twenty bucks.”

“What for?” he asked.

“Get rid of her.”

“And Nathan?”

“And Nathan.”

“What for?”

Giving me that innocent look as if he didn’t have a clue.

“Never mind,” I said. “You’re in pain.”

“Actually, I’m starting to feel better.”

“And you need your rest.”

“In moderation,” he said. “With exercise.”

“But you can’t get out of bed.”

“Nope.”

“Nope.”

“So any exercise you’re going to get…”

“… would have to be in bed.”

“Hmmm.”

“Hmmm.”

I shut and locked the door, then got out of my clothes.

“I’m really feeling considerable improvement,” Neal said.

What can I tell you? The guy makes me laugh.

“It must be the tender, loving care,” I said.

“Is that it?”

“It’s about to be.”

Then I eased into the bed.

Karen was just getting out of the shower when I asked her to get me a Diet Pepsi.

“Excuse me?” she murmured.

“I’m in postcoital bliss,” I said. “And when I’m in postcoital bliss I need a Diet Pepsi.”

“Why don’t you get one?”

I shook my head.

“When a man’s in postcoital bliss it’s the woman’s job to get the Diet Pepsi,” I smiled. “Besides, I’m not supposed to get out of bed.”

“I’m in postcoital bliss, too.”

“Too bad.”

I looked at her with what I liked to think was a lascivious expression.

“Besides,” I said, “it’s your fault.”

She got dressed and went out to the little refrigerator in the hall to get me a Diet Pepsi.

The phone rang.

“Hello, son.”

“Hello, Dad.”

“What’s this I got in the mail today?” he asked.

“From me?”

“No, from Elvis,” he said. “Yes, from you.”

“It’s a Father’s Day card,” I answered.

“It isn’t Father’s Day,” Graham said.

“It should be,” I said.

There was a long silence over the phone. Then I said, “Dad, thanks for finding me.”

“Forget it,” Graham said. “So how’s Palm Springs?”

I laughed, then he nagged me about my various terrible injuries and I told him I was okay.

“Well, you take care of yourself,” he said.

“Yeah, you too.”

We would have gone on in that vein but it would have been absolutely bathetic.

Karen came back in, sat down on the bed and handed me the Diet Pepsi.

“Did we attempt to make a baby?” I asked.

I was willing. I thought I could handle it.

Talk about your long silences.

Then she shook her head.

“I still want to, though,” she said.

“I think I do, too.”

“But you don’t know,” she said.

“No.”

She sighed, lay down next to me in the bed, and snuggled her face into my neck.

“Not knowing’s not good enough,” she said. I’m sorry.

“Don’t be sorry. Wherever you go, there you are.”

We held each other as tightly as two people with various broken bones could.

“I think you’re right,” I said. “I think I have a lot of stuff to work out.”

“I hate saying it,” she said. “But I think so, too. I just want you to know. I’ve been thinking about it, too. A kid deserves that, you know?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I guess you do.”

I swallowed hard and said, “So I think I’ll go see somebody.”

“You mean like a shrink?”

“Don’t sound so shocked.”

“No, I think it’s a good idea,” she said. “I’m just surprised that you do.”

“I don’t. I just don’t know how else to go about it.”

We shared some more silence.

“I think we should postpone the wedding,” she said.

“Is that a gentle way of saying we’re not getting married?”

“No, it’s a gentle way of saying that we shouldn’t get married until we know what we want,” she said. “And I guess we need to be alone for a while.”

That scared the shit out of me. “You’ll be there when I come back?” “If it works out that way,” she said. “And I hope it works out that way. I love you.” “I love you, too.”

I left the hospital two days later. I was still sore and still hurting and had a heroic limp, but it was time to go. I said good-bye to Nathan and Hope. Karen had already left.

Saying goodbye to Nathan was harder than I thought it would be. It’s funny-first I couldn’t wait to get rid of him, and when I finally did I felt kind of sad. I just had this feeling that I had seen the last of Natty Silver and that there weren’t any more coming down the road.

I don’t want to talk about saying good-bye to Karen.

I didn’t really know where I was going so I finally got on that flight to Palm Springs. I hated to leave a trip unfinished, I wanted to find a shrink, and I figured that they probably had a few of them in California.

So I never should have got out of the hot tub, right? Sometimes you get out of the hot water just to jump right back into it.

But maybe you have to almost drown before you really learn to swim. And sometimes you find out that you’re somewhat broken and you can’t swim at all.

But you do anyway.

Drowning in the desert, you just tread water.