Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dan
T hey say you shouldn’t text when drunk, but the nurses will just hand you your cell phone and let you type away on it while you’re high as fuck on morphine.
So it happens that I’m staring aghast at my text history when the nurses come in to wheel me down to surgery.
In the night, I’d apparently texted Sejin twenty-nine times to tell him he’s beautiful, and I love him more than the sky, and his asshole is the best I’ve ever tasted….which is all true, but even I can tell in the sober light of morning that it’s a bit much.
And I’ve sent Peggy Jo several texts declaring her the best non-mom a guy could ever have and saying that even though her grandbaby looks like a tiny bald demon, I’ll love Amelia Rose because she’s part of Peggy Jo, unlike her dick cats.
I even texted Henry to tell him I still think my grandfather was a real fucking asshole, or I wouldn’t have been in all those foster homes my whole life, but I’m grateful to Henry for keeping track of the money the man left me for the last few years and for putting up with my ingratitude.
Apparently opioids make me a grateful-but-jerky oversharer? I don’t know.
But what I do know is that right now they’re taking my phone away again and telling me that the surgery is expected to go well, and all kinds of other reassurances that glide right past as I try to figure out what all this means for when I can get back on the wall again.
As my mind spins, they roll me in. There are bright lights above. A mask is placed over my mouth and nose. I’m asked to count backward from one hundred. I reach ninety-seven.
It all disappears.
*
Sejin
My phone is full of unread texts and a few phone calls. I’d heard them come in— ping, ping, ping, ping, ping —but I’d been unable to wake up enough to check them; sleep had held me too deeply in its grip.
I jerk up now.
What if they’re from the hospital telling me Dan needs me? Telling me something has gone wrong? Telling me Dan’s not all right?
The fear that had nearly paralyzed me as I’d waited for Dan to be rescued from the wall grips me again. Shaking, I quickly scan the list to see the number thirty-six by Dan’s name. Christ, how had I slept through that many?
Heart in my throat, I open the thread and scan the messages.
Woke up. Nuts gave me phone
*Nurse
Two minutes later. Are you asleep? Hope so. Sleep tight, Doc
A half minute later. Doc, ha, Doc. Now we can for real play doctor. Prob won’t be much fun though. Real in hurries aren’t.
*Injuries
Good drugs are good though. I’m gonna push the button for more
Shortly after. Did you know I like everything about you?
Then— I don’t even like everything about myself
And— Your hair, your eyes, the way you smell, and your laugh
Followed by a list, each a separate text. Your kindness
Your smile when you play with kids
Your kpop
The hair on your legs
How your kneecaps smell specifications
*specifically ducking autocorrect
*FUCKING AUTOCORRECT
The ticklish spot behind your ear
How your pubic hair is straight not curly
Your fingers
Your view of the world
Your accept
*YOUR ACCENT
Your face
Your asshole
I love your asshole. It’s the best I’ve ever tasted. Prettiest too
Your frown even though it makes me sad to see it
Most of all your smile.
YOUR SMILE
God, I love your simile, Doc
Smilel smilele SMILE
Your beautiful smile
Just thinking about it makes me horny
*Happy
Horny and happy
I love you more than the sky
OK, tired now and autocorrect is dumb. Love you. Bye
As I read, my shoulders relax and tears come to my eyes.
I smile and laugh as I take in Dan’s drugged-up confessions.
He’s going to be mortified when he reads them later.
Or maybe he won’t be…he’s always a lot more matter of fact than I expect.
It isn’t a real surprise to find that he’s equally direct when high, just effusively so.
Checking the time, I see Dan’s already in surgery. The nurse had told me yesterday it would take a few hours, and so there’s no rush for me to get to the hospital now. I can shower and take my time before heading over.
But first…
I take a deep breath, steel myself, and tackle the other messages and voicemails on my phone.
There’s a text from Pete giving me the day off, which is helpful because I don’t have a way to get back to the Yosemite area.
Even if I could afford to grab an Uber or cab, I can’t imagine going in and making lattes for people today.
Heather has also texted saying she’s heard the news and won’t expect me in for the rest of this week—unless I think the kids will be a good distraction or I need the money. She adds on at the end that she’ll be praying for Dan.
There are “thinking of you” messages from Celli and Gage.
Social media is a disaster, though. There are some messages from friends, but mostly from strangers.
Dozens from climbers and folks I’ve never met before, but who seem to know of—if not actually know —Dan.
It’s crazy how fast word gets around on the internet.
There’s a message from Lowell, saying he’s keeping up with Dan’s situation through Rye, but to never hesitate to reach out to him for help.
There are some texts from Peggy Jo asking me for updates.
I take a few minutes to send her a reminder that Dan’s in surgery this morning, and I won’t have new information for her until it’s over.
She replies— Dan texted me ten times in the night.
My phone is set to go on Do Not Disturb at nine, so I missed them.
He was high as hell. What a lunatic that boy is.
He texted me too, I reply. Also with a bunch of nonsense
Oh, I doubt it’s nonsense. Just unexpected stuff. He’s too honest for nonsense even when he’s drugged. Told me my grandbaby looks like a bald demon.
Surely he meant a bald angel
Peggy Jo replies with another picture of her granddaughter, who is really so cute, but also so bald. With her pointy, elfin ears, I can see the resemblance to the paintings of demons hanging in the art museums of my childhood school field trips. Dan isn’t wrong.
Peggy Jo texts— Let me know, baby, when you have new information after the surgery.
I will.
I look a little further down the list of unread texts. There are some messages from those aforementioned local news outlets wanting a statement—fuck whoever gave them my number—and, of course, multiple calls and messages from Leenie and Martin from yesterday on through to this morning.
There’s a voicemail, though, from my dad.
I take a slow breath and press play:
Sejin, Leenie called me. She says the boy you’ve been seeing is hurt real bad? Are you okay, baby? Do you need any help? I can come there if you need me. No questions asked. I can get on a plane right away. Call me when you get this message. I—well, you know I love you.
I can barely breathe. It’s a short message, and yet it’s also the most he’s said to me about anything since our call when he told me to follow my feet.
There’s all kinds of emotion in his tone.
There’s urgency, and love, and a need to take care of me.
A kind of parental care that I’ve been missing since my mom died.
I feel like I’m going to cry again, so I stand up, force one foot in front of the other, and take myself to the shower.
There, I do let some tears leak. I also wash my hair, which takes forever because of the thickness and length.
I scrub myself off carefully, taking my time, trying to imagine that I’m washing away everything horrible about yesterday.
A flash of memory comes to me. The view through the scope of Dan on the ledge.
The blood. The rising helplessness. It’s like the moment I looked through the scope, reality broke into pieces, and somehow I got the best bit.
Somewhere, in a split-off universe, there’s another me, stuck in another outcome where Dan died, and another where he broke his neck, and another where he suffered a terrible brain injury.
Suddenly, all I want is to be small again—for my mom to be alive, and for me to be riding up on my dad’s shoulders, and all of us laughing together.
That Sejin hasn’t known pain yet. That Sejin isn’t in love with an overconfident daredevil.
That Sejin’s heart isn’t hanging by razor-thin holds on two-thousand-foot walls.
Thinking of how close of a call Dan’s fall was, a flare of rage ignites. I whisper, “You arrogant dumbass. You fucking lucky asshole.”
I’m angry, relieved, broken, and scared, and I want my mom. I want her so much. Just to feel her arms around me, reassuring me, telling me it’s going to be all right.
But I’m gonna have to settle for my dad.
I get out of the shower, dress, and pick up my phone. Leenie answers on the first ring.
“Baby,” she says, breathlessly. “I was hoping you’d call. We’ve been so worried.”
Funny how I’m suddenly everyone’s “baby.” I remember how Rye called me that last night, and Peggy Jo, and Dad, and now Leenie. I wonder if Martin’s gonna call me baby too, when I next see him.
“I got Dad’s message,” I say, scrubbing a hand through my wet hair and realizing I haven’t combed it out. It’s going to be a knotted mess. Such a fucking nuisance. “I don’t know what to say to him. How do I explain what’s happened?”
“You just tell him the truth?”
“What truth? That Dan’s a crazy person who does stupid things? And because of that, he might have died, but instead he’s just fucked up real bad?”
Leenie doesn’t take the opportunity to agree with all that, which kind of surprises me. Instead, she says, “Listen, you’re upset and scared, and you have every right to be, but all you need to know is that your dad loves you. He wants to be there for you. Just give him a call.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m afraid I’ll cry.”
“Sejin, for fuck’s sake, he loves you. He just wants to be there for you and have a relationship with you.
Losing your mom has been rough on you both, but he’s missed you too.
Not just her. All this fear of sharing your grief with him—and vice versa—has put such a wedge between you both.
Please call him and don’t fight it. Just let him be your dad. ”
“I don’t know if I can. What if I start to cry about Dan, and then I start to cry about Mom, and…”
“And what?”
“What if I never stop crying?”
“Then he’ll know just how sad you’ve been and how scared you are now. So what? It’s the truth, isn’t it?”
“I sometimes really hate you, Leenie.”
“I know.”
“Is it because you’re a Pisces, do you think?”
“We are manipulative, petty, control freaks, yes, but you Libras are so annoying. Always trying to just ignore the pain in and around you so you can pretend everything’s nice and pretty. It’s not healthy.”
“If I had more energy, I’d fight with you about this. But I just don’t.”
“I love you too.”
“Ugh.”
“Admit you love me.”
“Fine, I do love you. And Martin. And the kids. I’m just…not myself right now.”
“Of course not. How’s Dan this morning?”
“I don’t know. He’s in surgery. I’ve got hours before I find out how it went.” I wipe my hands over my face. “It was such a near miss, Leenie. Such a close call.”
“It really was.”
“I should be over it already. He’s going to be all right. But I can’t seem to get it together. I’m a mess.”
“This is normal. You’ve experienced a trauma.”
“Leenie?”
“Mmm?”
“Thanks for checking in on me. And thanks for telling Dad I need him, I guess.”
I’m not at all thankful for that yet, but it’s done, and I can’t not call him now. So, she gets what she wants and, maybe, in the end, it’ll be what I want too.
“You know he’s glad to be needed.”
Maybe. I don’t know anything anymore except that I’ve got to brush my hair, or I’ll be tugging out knots for days. I disconnect with Leenie and sit on the brown floral comforter to get to work. When all the tangles are free, I grab my phone and text my father.
Hey, yeah, things here are intense. I love you too. I’ll call you soon. Don’t worry. I’m okay, and my boyfriend’s going to be okay too.
I wait until his reply comes through. Alright, son. I’m here if you need me.
Even though I don’t want to talk to my dad about this, and Leenie really had no right to interfere, I’m relieved to know he’s there for me.
I stand up and get ready to head over to the hospital. The cafeteria there will have a cheap and decent breakfast, and I’ll be where I need to be.
Close to Dan.