BooksBarbecue
Back 3 a.m.
Chapters (67)
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  67. 3:46 a.m.

He shows me the screen. The pills have taken hold and the screen swims. I squint. The review is gone.

“It was right there. It was written by me.” There is one from September 8th and another from October 7th, but the one from October 2nd is gone. “They erased it.”

“Who?”

I don’t know yet.

“Check the printer,” I mumble.

I remember printing the review. At least I think I did. My brain has stopped working. My eyes close.

4:00 a.m. comes early.

::::

I wake up in my bed.

A page from my yellow legal pad is sitting on the bedside table, filled with my father’s neat all-caps. It is a rundown of everything he’d done, and had done to me, the past twenty-three hours.

A chiropractor came by to adjust my spine. A massage therapist spent two hours kneading my destroyed muscles. Sara, a young woman I’d come to know through my several stays at the ER, stopped by to give me an IV. My dad picked up meatball subs from his favorite deli, and mine was in the fridge. He called his doc for some extra back pills, but he also picked up some Aleve just in case I didn’t want to spend my one hour hallucinating. He took Lassie and Murdock to the park and bought them hot dogs. And he fixed the drain in my shower.

He left around midnight.

I look over at Lassie.

He is dead to the world. Playing with Murdock has wiped him out. He has some yellow junk on his whiskers, and I inspect it closer.

Mustard, from the hotdog.

I laugh.

I push myself up, which hurts, but is ecstasy compared to the last time I attempted movement. I pick up my phone and text him.

THANKS, POPS. YOU DA BEST.

FEELING BETTER?

YEAH, I CAN TURN MY HEAD TO THE SIDE WITHOUT CRYING.

GOOD...MICROWAVE THE MB SUB FOR 43 SECS.

ROGER THAT.

IM BEAT...OFF TO BED…DIDN’T THINK YOU WOULD BE UP FOR POKER SO I HEADED HOME.

I can’t believe it’s already been a week since I received the email from AST.

I text back: THAT’S OKAY.

IT’S A DATE.

WHAT IS?

THE REVIEW. THE ANNIVERSARY. I THINK IT’S A DATE.

I notice a second piece of paper on the table. It is the review. I printed it after all. I read it earlier, but I can’t remember a single word. I reread it, my smile threatening to leap off my face.

I text back: I THINK YOU’RE RIGHT.

LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU FIND OUT. NIGHT.

WILL DO...THANKS AGAIN…NIGHT.

I push myself out of bed. My body is still a knotted mess. I hobble to the bathroom and send 400ccs of IV into the toilet.

I microwave the sub, grab my laptop, and head back to the bed.

It is 3:12 a.m.