Chapter 1
Danny is at the hospital. Which is where people go. When.
His dad sleeps. Danny works with his laptop propped on his knees in the olive-green chair that squeaks plastically whenever he shifts.
Doctors stride meaningfully from one task to the next.
How much of the rest of his life will he spend in hospitals?
Yearly physicals, genetic testing, blood draws, flu shots, cough that won’t go away, Julian crashing a bike, Eve having a baby.
People being born and dying and being born and dying.
Danny doesn’t want to end up like his father.
This is also a horrible thing. Danny wishes he could sit at Cal’s side and tell him he inspired Danny to be who he is, but the truth is, much of what Danny has tried to become is in reaction to his father.
He wants to purge himself of years of resentment and annoyance, leaving only the love behind, but the days come faster and faster and Danny never feels cleansed.
Danny asks Bug for advice even though it doesn’t feel good.
He responds to Eve as briefly as possible even though this doesn’t feel good, either.
When Cal is awake, he and Danny tell each other bad jokes:
“Hey, Dad,” Danny says. “How does a penguin build his house?”
“Hang on,” Cal says.
“Igloos it.”
“Oh! Got ’em. Hey, kid. Did I ever tell you about the oak that committed espionage? That’s called tree, son. You know. Like treason.”
“Ha. That’s a good one.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have explained it.”
“No, that’s okay,” Danny says. “I’m glad you did.”
They watch a lot of TV. They do crosswords.
They don’t talk about anything that means anything.
It feels like a crime not to take better advantage of this time—really get to know each other!
On the other hand, it feels like a crime for Danny to allow his dad to see the depths to which Danny does not know him.
Danny is pretty sure that Cal thinks Danny knows him perfectly.
Before Eve, before Julian, before living his own life, Danny might’ve said he did.
You don’t know how it feels to be known, really known, until someone comes along and knows you better.