I lifted my chin. “Yeah?”
He nodded and he seemed so at peace about it. “I’ve taken out extra life insurance,” he said. “To get the insurance they had to put me through a physical, and it turns out I’ve got a few issues. I think that’s how it’ll happen. My heart will give out or it’ll be a stroke or something like that.”
“Can’t you go to a doctor?” I asked. I wanted so badly for that date on his forehead to change.
“I did, Maddie. My own doc ran a bunch of tests, but nothing obvious jumped off the page at him. My cholesterol is a little elevated, and my blood pressure’s not great, but it’s not bad enough yet to go on the meds. I even got a second head-to-toe physical, and nothing shows up that could be the culprit. Whatever’s going to happen to me, I think it’ll be a surprise, and it’ll be quick. Which, when I think about it, isn’t a bad way to go, you know?”
I nodded, shocked by how well he seemed to be taking it. But then, I’d seen this reaction from some of my clients with terminal diseases. They simply accepted it and got busy getting their affairs in order.
“Anyway,” he continued, “with all the added life insurance, my family will never have to worry about money again, and both my kids are gonna get to go to college. I also make sure to tell my sons and my wife how much I love them every day. We’ve never been closer. And I’ve been checking things off my bucket list, too. You know, the stuff you always say you want to do but never get to because there’s always tomorrow? My whole life I put off doing what I really wanted to do because I was worried about providing for my family and keeping my job. These days if I want to take a day off to do something fun, I do. I don’t sweat the small stuff. Not anymore. You freed me, Maddie. I feel more alive right now than I ever have. You gave me that.”
I was so moved that I didn’t know what to say.
“Here we are!” I heard Mrs. Duncan call from her walkway. She and the other guy were loaded down with gauze, ointments, bandages, and medical tape. My kindly neighbor got right to work, and in no time I was patched up and feeling a little better.
Then Rick got me to my feet, and while his partner put my bike into the garage, he helped me up the drive. “Thanks,” I told him once we’d reached the storm door. “For everything.”
He offered me a big grin. “You gonna be okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah. It just stings a little right now.”
“Take some Advil,” he advised. “And no more speed racer on that bike of yours, you hear?” He chuckled and I smiled. Then he and the other guy got back to Mrs. Duncan’s delivery, and I limped my way inside.
I found Ma passed out on the couch. I checked the time. It was early for her to be so out of it. I could feel a knot beginning to form in my stomach. She was reacting to the visit from the feds. I didn’t like it.
I hobbled over to her and tugged the afghan off the back of the couch, spreading it out over her the best I could. I felt stiff and sore all over, and the scrapes on my leg, elbow, and palm were starting to throb, so I limped up the stairs, and once in my room, eased out of the tight jeans and sweater I was wearing and into the lightest pair of sweats I owned. As I got redressed, I thought again about what Rick had said—that I’d helped him. Telling him his deathdate hadn’t changed his numbers, but at least I’d helped him and his family by giving him the news. His wife and kids were going to be sad to lose their dad—I knew that pain well—but his family would also be provided for. A bit like Ma and me had been provided for by the settlement from the lawsuit.
I would’ve rather had my dad, but at least most of our bills were covered for the time being. That meant a whole lot, when I thought about it.
Moving to my desk I pulled out my deathdates notebook and began to thumb through the pages. I found Rick’s entry and the deathdate next to his name: 12-6-2014. I sighed sadly, then looked at all the other names and dates I’d written on the many pages of the notebook.
I always put a capitol C next to my clients, and as I scrolled through the names of the people I’d read for, I wondered if maybe some of them might be doing the same thing as Rick. Maybe some of them were also taking out extra life insurance, and telling their kids and their spouses every day that they loved them. Maybe reading for these people was a good thing after all?
And then I went to Aiden’s page and ran my forefinger across his name. I could picture his face, those deep blue eyes, the curve of his jaw, the fullness of his lips.
I’d have a chance to see him in only a week, and I felt my pulse quicken. I hadn’t seen him since the previous spring. I wondered if he’d gotten any taller, if his shoulders had gotten broader, if seeing him would still take my breath away.
My smile widened. Of course it would. With a sigh I closed the notebook and tucked it away. Then I limped down the stairs and realized that I still had to go to the store to get some candy for the trick-or-treaters, but how I was going to manage that, I had no idea. In desperation, I texted Stubby—he called me immediately. “What happened?” he asked. I’d only told him in the text that I’d crashed on my bike.
I gave him the quick version of what’d happened, and he offered to come over right away with a bunch of Hershey’s minis from his mom’s stash. “We always have extra,” he said.
While I waited for Stubs, I fixed two grilled cheese sandwiches and some tomato soup. As I was ladling the soup into bowls, Stubby walked in.
“Your timing is perfect,” I told him.
He shrugged out of his coat, and I saw that he was only wearing a white T-shirt and jeans underneath. Then I realized he also had his hair slicked back. “James Dean?” I guessed. Stubs loves old movies.