“Like I know about your life? Let’s face it, we don’t even know each other.”
“Ned,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”
“That’s exactly why I didn’t want it this way!” He really was angry. “No sorrowful ‘Ned.’ Don’t say it that way. No bullshit. No standing on the porch. I really couldn’t stomach that.”
Now I was pissed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’m not coming home, either. Don’t wait for me. Don’t think anything’s going to turn out differently. Don’t think there’s something you can do to prevent it. And for once in your life, don’t think it’s about you.”
I got up and went outside. The heat was crazy. I felt as though I were suffocating. Melting, but melting into what? I had wanted to give my brother a gift. Do something he’d been wanting to do. A single memorable day. Stupid, as usual. Mistake, naturally.
My brother had paid the bill and now he came outside. We didn’t look at each other. Finally Ned spoke. “Am I supposed to apologize for dying?”
“Yes. Apologize. How fucking dare you?”
I was too loud. My eyes were hot. I really might have been going crazy. I glared at him. I hated my brother. I thought if I was left behind again, I would break into pieces. I thought about how everything came too late.
My brother and I stood there in the heat. Pissed. Sweating. Older than we’d ever thought we’d be. This wasn’t our natural habitat. I wanted to rewind things. Maybe Ned did, too. He’d calmed down.
“I heard you helped paint the room for the baby,” he said. More neutral, cheerful territory, if it weren’t so tragic.
“I would have preferred red. I’m seeing some shades of it now.”
“Okay. I apologize,” my brother said. “It’s all my fault. Fuck me with my fucking goddamn cancer.”
Now he was the one to turn away. Ruin. The word I despised. It was happening to him.
“We’ll just have to turn you around, so Death isn’t standing at your feet. Then he won’t be able to take you.”
Ned laughed. He pulled himself together. Faced me again. Once you knew, you saw it. His face looked different. Thin. Tired.
“There’s no fooling that son of a bitch.” My brother shook his head, amused. “I love that story.”
“Why? It’s terrible.”
“It’s true.”
We both thought about that.
“Well, in the story Death is tricked.”
“Only twice, little sister. Then he gets what belongs to him.”
“The Dragon’s still alive and he tricked Death twice.”
“So, we’re off to see the Dragon. Is that why? Find out the tricks of the trade? It ain’t gonna work, baby girl.”
“We’re just going,” I said. “Think of it as a field trip.”
“You’re not the only one who knows a secret. Nina told me. You’ve got yourself a boyfriend.”
“Now we’re even,” I said.
Did I sound jaunty? Did I sound as though I could make it through the conversation?
“Yeah, you get to fall in love; I die. Very even.”
I thought that the people inside the diner were in a different universe, one where there was sustenance, hope, good health. The heat could wear a person out. Maybe there was nothing I could do for Ned. I was ready to back down. Then my brother turned to me.
“Your car or mine?”
“Seriously?”
“How many times do you get to see a dragon?”
It took two hours to get up north; I drove and Ned slept the whole time. Nina had told me he’d tried chemo when he’d first been diagnosed, but it had made him so sick he hadn’t been able to work; the doctors had agreed that the treatment was doing more harm than good. He was trying to last until January, when the baby would be born. It seemed unlikely that he would.
“Jesus, I’m drooling,” Ned said when he woke up.
We got to the outskirts of Jacksonville at noon. Hotter here. Impossible, but true. The air conditioner of my car started to sputter. Overworked, pissy. We pulled into a gas station and I got out to check the directions I’d gotten off the record from the cardiologist who’d treated the Dragon. I’d begged him, as a matter of fact. I told him I was a lightning-strike survivor who needed hope. He had no reason to disbelieve me.
There were several back roads we’d have to take and I worried that the ride was too bumpy for Ned.