The house I had shared with Lou Malone never sold. I guess when someone kills himself in a place, word gets around, and even though I’d dropped the price on it three times, I hadn’t had a single offer. Justin made the original suggestion, and Nicole seemed to like it as well, so the place was going to be torn down and a new house built there instead.
It would be a house that I hoped Nicole and I would share when she was done with college.
I managed to get up the ramp with the walker about an hour and a half later. All right, it wasn’t really that long, but sometimes I still missed the wheelchair. It was a hell of a lot faster. Nicole scooted around me, claiming she needed to get dinner in the oven so it would be ready on time. I loved her enchiladas and had gone on about them to Gardner until Nicole told me to shut up about it. She said it with a smile on her face, though.
“Where do you want all this?” Gardner asked as he held up my duffel bag.
“Over there, I guess,” I replied. I pointed over to the sectioned-off part of the living room that still had everything ready for me. He helped me unpack while Nicole fucked around in the kitchen, and with a beer, Greg made himself comfortable in his recliner.
“I like these,” Gardner said as he flipped through my latest sketchbook. “The detail you capture is incredible.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled. I still didn’t like hearing people talk about my drawing, especially an art professor. I just couldn’t get used to it.
“Do you still see everything so clearly in your head?”
“The old stuff, yeah,” I admitted. “I still remember everything before the accident completely, and when I think about it, I can remember almost everything else, too. It’s just not as…as overwhelming as it used to be.”
“These are particularly detailed,” he said.
I looked over and saw the drawings I had done of Nicole at her games. I could draw her legs for hours without getting tired of the activity. There were other sketches of her, but they were in another book that I never shared with anyone.
“She’s particularly interesting to look at,” I grinned.
“I see that,” he said, and he smiled back at me. “Are you going to reconsider letting me show these off? You know, I put that one you gave me up in my office. Several people have commented on it.”
“You weren’t supposed to display it!” I said with a scowl.
“You told me to do whatever I wanted with it,” Gardner reminded me, “so I framed it and put it in my office. I never had the opportunity to…well, you know. Lots of professors have their kids’ artwork up on their walls. It made sense to me, but…I can take it down if you want.”
I took a deep breath and looked up at him. I could tell by his expression that he wanted it to stay where it was. I finally just shook my head.
“Leave it there,” I grumbled.
“So…what about the other stuff?”
“Who would you show it to?”
“Well, the person who showed the most interest was actually from around here,” he told me. “Her name is Kathrine, and she runs a gallery in Chicago, but she has one in Portland as well. She’s heard of you.”
“How has she heard of me?”
“You were in a lot of articles last year.”
“Oh…yeah, I guess.”
Local soccer star saves girl, loses ability to walk.
It had been all over the place.
“When she put the pieces together and figured out you were, um, my son…”
He trailed off.
It had only been a month ago when I finally went to Chicago to visit him, and he had almost had an anxiety attack over how to introduce me. After I told him to tell people how it was—he was my father, but I had been raised by my mom and step-father—Gardner practically had a melt-down, even started crying, which freaked me out a little. Once I figured out they were “happy tears,” I calmed down, but it was still weird. He took me all over campus at my usual snail’s pace, introducing me to everyone as his son.
“It still feels weird to tell people that,” he said. “I love it, but it’s weird.”
“I know.”