Элисон Скотч - The Theory of Opposites

I check the clock on the microwave and wonder when the doctors will call to implore us to come back, to tell us that he is awake. They shooed us out tonight, saying he was resting, saying nothing more could be done until the surgery to repair the damage, but…it didn’t feel right not to be there. I look around the kitchen. Why am I the only one who thinks it doesn’t feel right not to be there?

“Shawn’s having a bit of an early mid-life crisis,” I say to Nancy. “It’s complicated.”

“Marriage always is,” she replies.

Raina snorts but then says, “Sorry. You’re right. Marriage is.”

I eye Jeremy to see if he’s giving her some sort of look, but he’s not. He just sips his wine and accepts the fact that it’s public knowledge that marriage is complicated, even if he should be offended that his wife is the one announcing it.

“Well, you’re not married,” I say to Nancy. I mean, obviously. You’re a single, gorgeous lesbian!

“I was once. A great, great man. Not like your dad.” She catches herself. “That came out wrong. I only know about your dad through your mom.”

“He can be a real a-hole,” my mom offers, still nibbling on her pork chop bone.

“Mom! He’s at death’s door!” I bark. “Can you stop?” I glance to Oliver for backup, but he just gives me this weird look like whaddya gonna do, or namaste! Or something. Who the hell knows? No one in my family was ever good at backup, I realize, and spear the meat with my fork.

“I was widowed at fifty-seven,” Nancy says. “Pancreatic cancer.”

“That’s terrible,” I say.

“We loved each other well for a very long time. That he died was terrible. But when he was alive, it was wonderful. So I have that.”

“I admire that attitude so very much.” Ollie’s speaking in this weird, soothing tone. “It’s what my students are searching for. Perhaps you’ll speak at one of my classes.”

“Mom,” Raina interrupts. “You know I’m the first one in the family to come down hard on Dad, but...I mean…he’s…”

“He’s fine!” my mom states succinctly. “He is going to be fine. Do you really think that a little ventricle trouble will take out your father?”

“I don’t think that ventricle trouble is something that you can really control,” Raina says.

“Well, if anyone can, it’s your dad. And the doctors said that he’s stable! And besides, you know what he says: everybody dies sometime.”

And Nicky chimes in: “Does this mean I can stop researching how to properly sit shiva?”

And we all say: “Yes.”

So he says: “Okay.” And then, “L’chaim.” And then excuses himself from the table.

“Frankly, nobody’s stable in this family,” Raina says, and everyone laughs a little to diffuse the tension, but we also take deep gulps of our wine. I can’t help but look at the clock again and wonder when they will call with good news.

“Stability is where you choose to plant your roots, where you find your foundation,” Ollie says.

Nancy looks at him sideways but says nothing. The rest of us just ignore him.

“I think it’s lovely that you loved your husband so much,” I say to her. “In light of…the complications.”

“Oh, you mean that I’m with your mom now?” She laughs and reaches for my mom’s hand. Raina pales. “Listen, life is short. Be happy. That’s all I know.”

Ollie exhales like this is the most brilliant thing he has ever heard.

Raina refills her glass, and Jeremy rubs the back of his neck.

I lean back and think: Life is short. Be happy.

That shouldn’t be so hard.

Text from: Theodore Brackton

To: Willa Chandler-Golden

I’m sticking around for a while. Can we grab a drink?

Text from: Willa Chandler-Golden

To: Shawn Golden

Know I’m not supposed to text u, but I thought mayB we cld get a drink? Or take in a game? Yankees? They’re baseball, right? (Har, har, har.)

Text from: Vanessa Pines

To: Willa Chandler-Golden

I know you r mid-family crisis. Need a drink?

Text from: Shawn Golden

To: Willa Chandler-Golden

Jammed 4 the next day or so, working l8t. Talk Tues?

Text from: Theodore Brackton

To: Vanessa Pines

Really want to pursue this but I want to give her space. WDYT?

Text from: Vanessa Pines

To: Theodore Brackton

Since when do u ever need advice from any1? U founded Y.E.S. for God’s sake. Here’s advice frm r nxt book chapter: open ur eyes & life follows.

Text from: Theodore Brackton

To: Vanessa Pines

So you say Y.E.S.?

Text from: Vanessa Pines

To: Theodore Brackton

Honey, I say Y.E.S. to everything. I’m not the 1 u shld be asking.

Daring Yourself to a Better Life!

By Vanessa Pines and Willa Chandler

PART THREE: OPEN YOUR EYES AND WRITE YOUR OWN MAP

Summary: It sounds so easy, doesn’t it? Open your eyes, look all around you, breathe it in and follow that breath toward wherever it takes you! Richard Chandler advises you to do the opposite. To close your eyes. When has anything good ever come from closing yourself off to anything? (Well, sure, there was that lousy ex-boyfriend who kept texting you for sex, but readers, we know that you’re smart enough to deduce the difference between closing yourself off to a douche bag and closing yourself off to life.) Try it. Try it now. (After you’ve read this paragraph.) Close your eyes. Focus on your other senses. You hear more, yes. You might smell more. You might be more aware of the goings-on around you. But then pop open your eyes and see, really see, the beauty and the colors and the brightness and the contrast and the faces and the smiles and the triumph and the grief and the wisdom that is all around you. See it all and learn from it and then be big and brave and chart your course. Write your own map. Get lost. Then get found. Closing your eyes really just means closing a door. Never close a door when you have the chance to leave it open.

My dad wakes up two days later, on Tuesday. Vanessa is taking the day to write, and since I don’t have anything better to do, I tell her I’ll just peek over her shoulder and won’t bother her at all. But she says, “Seriously, go to the hospital, Willa, even if you don’t want to. Don’t close yourself off because you’re scared. Open your eyes. Write your map .”

I didn’t want to go, it’s true. Hospitals remind me of Theo, and I don’t want to think of Theo, and also, all I do now is weep when I think of my dad and what life would mean without him.

Raina has gone into the office for the day to prepare for Ollie’s arraignment, and my mom and Nancy are taking a Skyline Harbor Cruise (“It’s a lesbian thing,” she says to me before kissing me on the way out the door), so I’m the only one sitting at his bedside today. I’m passing the time figuring out how to join Twitter when he comes to; he must watch me for a good minute before he makes re-entry into the world of the conscious.

Finally, he clears his throat, and I shriek and bolt upward, dropping my phone as I do.

“William,” he says weakly. “I’m so thirsty. What happened?”

I surge to be next to him and clutch his hand, but it’s limp against mine, flaccid, near dead.

“You had a heart attack, Dad,” I say, my cheeks already damp, my nose so quickly running down my chin. “But you’re going to be okay. We thought we might have lost you. But we didn’t.”

He bobs his head almost imperceptibly, as if any movement at all is asking too much of him. His skin is waxy and wan, his hair looks thinner, his lips like sandpaper.