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A New Chapter
Matt stayed in the passenger seat while Lucy killed the engine. Danny got out of the back first. His own car waited in the next bay, the mods not ordered yet.
“Take your time,” she said.
“I’m fine.”
“I said take your time, not are you fine.”
Danny had the chair ready by the time Matt got his legs out. He pivoted across and settled in.
Lucy watched him. “You good?”
“Yeah.”
Every detail in this remodel had his sign-off, down to the cabinet handles.
Rolling through it was another thing.
“Home sweet home. I stocked the fridge, by the way. You’re welcome.”
“What did you stock it with?”
“Food.”
“Danny.”
“Real food. Lucy supervised.”
“She supervised from how far away?”
“From the other end of the aisle, which is still supervision.”
“I watched him pick out the beer,” Lucy said.
“Which I am legally allowed to do.”
“Legally, yes. With any taste, no.”
The kitchen counter was set to standing height. He found the release underneath and ran it down to seated, back up again, then the cooktop the same way. Manual hydraulic, the way he and Uncle Brian had drawn it up.
“Counter’s good,” he said.
“You’re going to cry, aren’t you,” Danny said.
“No.”
“You’re a little bit going to cry.”
“I’m not crying.”
“I’m just saying. It’s a nice kitchen. Emotionally significant.”
“Let him have his moment, Danny.”
“I’m not having a moment.”
“Have one anyway.”
He told Lucy he wanted to see the bedroom on his own, and crossed alone to his old crash room. It was bigger now, half the living room folded in. The old powder room opened through a new cut where the wall used to be solid.
For a while he just sat there.
“You okay?” Lucy asked from the doorway.
“Yeah.”
“Tired?”
“A little.”
“You want to lie down for a bit?”
He thought about it. “No. Not yet.”
She nodded.
“Luce.”
“Yeah.”
He didn’t have the words.
Lucy sat down in front of him.
“I’m glad you’re home,” she said.
“…Me too.”
She reached out. He gave her his hand.
They stayed like that.
Matt woke on the couch. The light was already low across the family area floor. Lucy was reading next to him.
“Hey, sleepy head.”
“How long was I out?”
“A while.”
His water bottle was on the coffee table within reach. Lucy’s doing, apparently. He sat up and drank.
“You up for a walk?” she said.
“Where?”
“The park. Just down and back. Nothing serious.”
He wanted to say no.
“…Yeah.”
He’d walked this path more times than he could count. Lucy’s hand in his. Her shoulder bumping against his when she leaned over to say something.
Now he was moving along it at a different height, at a different pace. Lucy was right there and his hands were on the rims.
A jogger passed. Then a woman with a stroller. Then a guy with a dog on a long leash that he had to gather up when he saw the chair coming.
None of them were rude. That was almost worse. The polite adjustments. The half-second of recalibration he could see on every face.
“This was a bad idea.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“Luce, I—”
She waited.
“I just… don’t want to be seen like this.”
“Yeah. But I see you on a walk with me. Like we used to.”
“It’s not the same.”
“No,” she agreed. “But it’s still ours.”
The path curved at the pond. The water caught the late light and threw it up into the trees. A pair of kids on scooters went past them while yelling “Sorry!”
“You always do that,” he said.
“Do what?”
“Say the annoying thing that I can’t argue with.”
“Someone has to.”
They came around the pond and he slowed without meaning to. Lucy slowed with him. The path rose ahead of them in a grade that didn’t let up.
“I don’t know how long I can do this,” he said.
“Today, or in general?”
“Today.”
“Then we turn around whenever you want.”
He kept going. She stayed beside him. Somewhere behind them a dog barked once and then didn’t again.
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A Rough Day