THE ONLY THING COMPARABLE to the aftermath of a grand mal seizure is waking up on the pavement with ahangover from the mother of all frat parties and immediately being run over by a truck. On second thought,maybe a grand mal is worse. I am covered in my own filth, hooked up to medicine and falling apart at theseams, when Julia walks toward me. “It’s a seizure dog,” I say.
“No kidding.” Julia holds out her hand for Judge to sniff. She points to the couch beside me. “Can I sitdown?”
“It’s not catching, if that’s what you mean.”
“It wasn’t.” Julia comes close enough that I can feel the heat from her shoulder, inches away from mine.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Campbell?”
“Christ, Julia, I didn’t even tell my parents.” I try to look over her shoulder into the hallway. “Where’sAnna?”
“How long has this been going on?”
I try to get up, and manage to lift myself a half inch before my strength gives out. “I have to get back inthere.”
“Campbell.”
I sigh. “A while.”
“A while, as in a week?”
Shaking my head, I say, “A while, as in two days before we graduated from Wheeler.” I look up at her. “Theday I took you home, all I wanted was to be with you. When my parents told me I had to go to that stupiddinner at the country club, I followed them in my own car, so I could make a quick escape—I was planningon driving back to your house, that night. But on the way to dinner, I got into a car accident. I came throughwith a few bruises, and that night, I had the first seizure. Thirty CT scans later, the doctors still couldn’t reallytell me why, but they made it pretty clear I’d have to live with it forever.” I take a deep breath. “Which iswhat made me realize that no one else should have to.”
“What?”
“What do you want me to say, Julia? I wasn’t good enough for you. You deserved better than some freak whomight fall down frothing at the mouth any old minute.”
Julia goes perfectly still. “You might have let me make up my own mind.”
“What difference would it have made? Like you really would have gotten great satisfaction guarding me likeJudge does when it happens; wiping up after me, living at the end of my life.” I shake my head. “You were soincredibly independent. A free spirit. I didn’t want to be the one who took that away from you.”
“Well, if I’d had the choice, maybe I wouldn’t have spent the past fifteen years thinking there was somethingthe matter with me.”
“You?” I start to laugh. “Look at you. You’re a knockout. You’re smarter than I am. You’re on a career trackand you’re family-centered and you probably even can balance your checkbook.”
“And I’m lonely, Campbell,” Julia adds. “Why do you think I had to learn to act so independent? I also getmad too quickly, and I hog the covers, and my second toe is longer than my big one. My hair has its own zipcode. Plus, I get certifiably crazy when I’ve got PMS. You don’t love someone because they’re perfect,” shesays. “You love them in spite of the fact that they’re not.”
I don’t know how to respond to that; it’s like being told after thirty-five years that the sky, which I’ve seen asa brilliant blue, is in fact rather green.
“And another thing—this time, you don’t get to leave me. I’m going to leave you.”
If possible, that only makes me feel worse. I try to pretend it doesn’t hurt, but I don’t have the energy. “Sogo.”
Julia settles next to me. “I will,” she says. “In another fifty or sixty years.
“No kidding.” Julia holds out her hand for Judge to sniff. She points to the couch beside me. “Can I sitdown?”
“It’s not catching, if that’s what you mean.”
“It wasn’t.” Julia comes close enough that I can feel the heat from her shoulder, inches away from mine.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Campbell?”
“Christ, Julia, I didn’t even tell my parents.” I try to look over her shoulder into the hallway. “Where’sAnna?”
“How long has this been going on?”
I try to get up, and manage to lift myself a half inch before my strength gives out. “I have to get back inthere.”
“Campbell.”
I sigh. “A while.”
“A while, as in a week?”
Shaking my head, I say, “A while, as in two days before we graduated from Wheeler.” I look up at her. “Theday I took you home, all I wanted was to be with you. When my parents told me I had to go to that stupiddinner at the country club, I followed them in my own car, so I could make a quick escape—I was planningon driving back to your house, that night. But on the way to dinner, I got into a car accident. I came throughwith a few bruises, and that night, I had the first seizure. Thirty CT scans later, the doctors still couldn’t reallytell me why, but they made it pretty clear I’d have to live with it forever.” I take a deep breath. “Which iswhat made me realize that no one else should have to.”
“What?”
“What do you want me to say, Julia? I wasn’t good enough for you. You deserved better than some freak whomight fall down frothing at the mouth any old minute.”
Julia goes perfectly still. “You might have let me make up my own mind.”
“What difference would it have made? Like you really would have gotten great satisfaction guarding me likeJudge does when it happens; wiping up after me, living at the end of my life.” I shake my head. “You were soincredibly independent. A free spirit. I didn’t want to be the one who took that away from you.”
“Well, if I’d had the choice, maybe I wouldn’t have spent the past fifteen years thinking there was somethingthe matter with me.”
“You?” I start to laugh. “Look at you. You’re a knockout. You’re smarter than I am. You’re on a career trackand you’re family-centered and you probably even can balance your checkbook.”
“And I’m lonely, Campbell,” Julia adds. “Why do you think I had to learn to act so independent? I also getmad too quickly, and I hog the covers, and my second toe is longer than my big one. My hair has its own zipcode. Plus, I get certifiably crazy when I’ve got PMS. You don’t love someone because they’re perfect,” shesays. “You love them in spite of the fact that they’re not.”
I don’t know how to respond to that; it’s like being told after thirty-five years that the sky, which I’ve seen asa brilliant blue, is in fact rather green.
“And another thing—this time, you don’t get to leave me. I’m going to leave you.”
If possible, that only makes me feel worse. I try to pretend it doesn’t hurt, but I don’t have the energy. “Sogo.”
Julia settles next to me. “I will,” she says. “In another fifty or sixty years.