Page 86 of Second Chance Summer

But as I watched, surprised, my grandfather went right up to my father and hugged him gently, starting to rock him back and forth, as my dad gripped his hands. I signaled to Gelsey, and she got up and headed over to me. “Is Grandpa okay?” she whispered to me as I stepped out of the front door and she followed.

“I think so,” I said. I looked back for a second into the living room and was struck by how small my dad looked in my grandfather’s arms. Probably almost like he had a long time ago, when he’d been Gelsey’s age, and younger, just a little boy himself. I eased the door closed behind me, giving my grandfather a moment alone with his son.

I couldn’t sleep that night. This in itself was not so unusual. What was unusual was that I wasn’t the only one.

Normally, I would have gone next door, to find Henry, to try to forget a little bit. And somehow the fact that I couldn’t do this—and that this had been my own choice—was making lying there unbearable.

Things were made more complicated by the new sleeping arrangements—my grandfather had been installed in Gelsey’s room, and Gelsey was currently snoring away on my trundle bed. We’d agreed to switch off taking the trundle bed, but as I listened to her breathing in and out, I found myself wishing that I’d offered to take the first night. It would have been much easier to leave the room without having to climb over her. But when I couldn’t take it any longer, I slipped out of bed and held my breath as I stepped over her. She didn’t wake, just sighed a little in her sleep and rolled over again. I let out a breath and turned the doorknob, stepping out into the hallway.

“Hiya.” I made a kind of squeaking noise and literally jumped, even though it had been a very quiet greeting. But I’d totally forgotten about Paul, who had the night shift with my dad.

“Hi,” I whispered back, trying to get my racing heart to slow a little bit. Paul was sitting in a chair near the hospital bed, where my dad was sleeping, his mouth open, his breath labored. I’d met Paul that afternoon when he’d replaced Melody, the nurse who had smiled but hadn’t said anything to anyone all day. Paul at least had seemed a little friendlier. “I was just, um, getting some air,” I said. Paul nodded and went back to reading what looked like a graphic novel. I noticed that Murphy had abandoned his dog bed and was curled up under my father’s bed. I motioned to the dog as I opened the door, but he didn’t move, just stayed put and rested his head on his paws.

I stepped outside and stopped short, getting my second surprise of the last few minutes—my grandfather was standing on the porch, in pajamas, robe, and leather slippers, peering through an impressive-looking telescope. “Hi,” I said, too shocked to really say anything else.

“Good evening,” my grandfather said, straightening up. “Couldn’t sleep?”

I shook my head. “Not really.”

My grandfather sighed. “Me neither.”

I couldn’t stop looking at the telescope. It was huge, and beautiful, and I was, frankly, a little amazed that my grandfather had brought it with him. “What are you looking at?” I asked.

He gave me a small smile. “Do you know your stars?” he asked. “I think I did give you a book on it, years ago, actually.”

“Right,” I said, feeling my cheeks heat up, not sure how to tell him that I hadn’t read it beyond the most superficial flip-through. “I don’t, really,” I confessed, taking a step closer. “But I’d been hoping to learn.”

My grandfather nodded. “You can’t be a sailor without knowing your stars,” he said. “They’ve tried to get me to give it up at the Academy. These newer officers telling me that with GPS, it’s not necessary. But as long as you know your constellations, you’re never lost.”

I took a step closer, peering up at the sky. There were so many more stars here than there ever seemed to be back home; maybe that’s why I’d suddenly gotten fascinated by them this summer. “Really?” I asked.

“Oh, yes,” my grandfather said, clearly warming to his theme. “No matter what else happens, your constellations don’t change. And if you’re ever lost, and your precious GPS is on the fritz, they’ll tell you where you are. And then they’ll get you home.”

I looked back up at the stars above me, then again at the telescope for a moment. “Can you show me?” I asked, suddenly wanting to name what I’d been looking at for the last few months.

“Of course,” my grandfather said, sounding a little surprised. “Step right up.”

I lowered my eye to the eyepiece and suddenly, right there and brilliantly clear, was what had been right there above me, shining down on me, all summer long.

It was August. The days turned hot and muggy, and my father started to get worse, much faster than I’d somehow been expecting. I found myself grateful for the four nurses who passed through, changing shifts every eight hours, simply because we were now out of our depth in terms of helping my dad. He needed help getting out of the bed, help walking, help going to the bathroom. We started using the wheelchair to get him around the house, but didn’t use it much, as he was spending most of the time sleeping. He was getting medications and pain management administered by syringes, and we now had a bright-red medical waste container in the kitchen that the nurses took away, that didn’t go into the bearbox with the rest of the trash.

I’d stopped going into work. I’d talked to Fred, and he told me he understood—he’d apparently learned about the situation when he came to the Fourth of July barbecue. Elliot would send me goofy, joking text messages, and Lucy stopped by every day after work, with a fountain Diet Coke for me, ready to listen if I wanted to talk and happy to chatter on and gossip if I wanted to be distracted.

Our kitchen—and fridge—was soon filled up with casseroles and baked goods. Fred kept bringing over coolerfuls of whatever fish he’d caught that day, and whenever Davy came to walk the dog, he always had something with him in a green Borrowed Thyme bakery box—muffins, cookies, pies. The nurses had come to really love it whenever Davy appeared. Even the Gardners, who didn’t cook at all, brought by a pizza every few days.

I was still thinking about Henry much more than I wanted to, and I still wasn’t sleeping. But my grandfather also wasn’t sleeping, and so at night, we continued our star lessons. He’d whittle and tell me where to point the telescope, asking me to describe what I saw and then, later, to identify them myself. I learned how to find the constellations, so that I could see them even without the telescope. I was amazed to learn that there were things that could be seen with the naked eye, like other planets. And they’d been there all along, I just hadn’t known what was I was seeing.

s I watched, surprised, my grandfather went right up to my father and hugged him gently, starting to rock him back and forth, as my dad gripped his hands. I signaled to Gelsey, and she got up and headed over to me. “Is Grandpa okay?” she whispered to me as I stepped out of the front door and she followed.

“I think so,” I said. I looked back for a second into the living room and was struck by how small my dad looked in my grandfather’s arms. Probably almost like he had a long time ago, when he’d been Gelsey’s age, and younger, just a little boy himself. I eased the door closed behind me, giving my grandfather a moment alone with his son.

I couldn’t sleep that night. This in itself was not so unusual. What was unusual was that I wasn’t the only one.

Normally, I would have gone next door, to find Henry, to try to forget a little bit. And somehow the fact that I couldn’t do this—and that this had been my own choice—was making lying there unbearable.

Things were made more complicated by the new sleeping arrangements—my grandfather had been installed in Gelsey’s room, and Gelsey was currently snoring away on my trundle bed. We’d agreed to switch off taking the trundle bed, but as I listened to her breathing in and out, I found myself wishing that I’d offered to take the first night. It would have been much easier to leave the room without having to climb over her. But when I couldn’t take it any longer, I slipped out of bed and held my breath as I stepped over her. She didn’t wake, just sighed a little in her sleep and rolled over again. I let out a breath and turned the doorknob, stepping out into the hallway.

“Hiya.” I made a kind of squeaking noise and literally jumped, even though it had been a very quiet greeting. But I’d totally forgotten about Paul, who had the night shift with my dad.

“Hi,” I whispered back, trying to get my racing heart to slow a little bit. Paul was sitting in a chair near the hospital bed, where my dad was sleeping, his mouth open, his breath labored. I’d met Paul that afternoon when he’d replaced Melody, the nurse who had smiled but hadn’t said anything to anyone all day. Paul at least had seemed a little friendlier. “I was just, um, getting some air,” I said. Paul nodded and went back to reading what looked like a graphic novel. I noticed that Murphy had abandoned his dog bed and was curled up under my father’s bed. I motioned to the dog as I opened the door, but he didn’t move, just stayed put and rested his head on his paws.

I stepped outside and stopped short, getting my second surprise of the last few minutes—my grandfather was standing on the porch, in pajamas, robe, and leather slippers, peering through an impressive-looking telescope. “Hi,” I said, too shocked to really say anything else.

“Good evening,” my grandfather said, straightening up. “Couldn’t sleep?”

I shook my head. “Not really.”

My grandfather sighed. “Me neither.”

I couldn’t stop looking at the telescope. It was huge, and beautiful, and I was, frankly, a little amazed that my grandfather had brought it with him. “What are you looking at?” I asked.

He gave me a small smile. “Do you know your stars?” he asked. “I think I did give you a book on it, years ago, actually.”

“Right,” I said, feeling my cheeks heat up, not sure how to tell him that I hadn’t read it beyond the most superficial flip-through. “I don’t, really,” I confessed, taking a step closer. “But I’d been hoping to learn.”

My grandfather nodded. “You can’t be a sailor without knowing your stars,” he said. “They’ve tried to get me to give it up at the Academy. These newer officers telling me that with GPS, it’s not necessary. But as long as you know your constellations, you’re never lost.”

I took a step closer, peering up at the sky. There were so many more stars here than there ever seemed to be back home; maybe that’s why I’d suddenly gotten fascinated by them this summer. “Really?” I asked.

“Oh, yes,” my grandfather said, clearly warming to his theme. “No matter what else happens, your constellations don’t change. And if you’re ever lost, and your precious GPS is on the fritz, they’ll tell you where you are. And then they’ll get you home.”

I looked back up at the stars above me, then again at the telescope for a moment. “Can you show me?” I asked, suddenly wanting to name what I’d been looking at for the last few months.

“Of course,” my grandfather said, sounding a little surprised. “Step right up.”

I lowered my eye to the eyepiece and suddenly, right there and brilliantly clear, was what had been right there above me, shining down on me, all summer long.

It was August. The days turned hot and muggy, and my father started to get worse, much faster than I’d somehow been expecting. I found myself grateful for the four nurses who passed through, changing shifts every eight hours, simply because we were now out of our depth in terms of helping my dad. He needed help getting out of the bed, help walking, help going to the bathroom. We started using the wheelchair to get him around the house, but didn’t use it much, as he was spending most of the time sleeping. He was getting medications and pain management administered by syringes, and we now had a bright-red medical waste container in the kitchen that the nurses took away, that didn’t go into the bearbox with the rest of the trash.

I’d stopped going into work. I’d talked to Fred, and he told me he understood—he’d apparently learned about the situation when he came to the Fourth of July barbecue. Elliot would send me goofy, joking text messages, and Lucy stopped by every day after work, with a fountain Diet Coke for me, ready to listen if I wanted to talk and happy to chatter on and gossip if I wanted to be distracted.

Our kitchen—and fridge—was soon filled up with casseroles and baked goods. Fred kept bringing over coolerfuls of whatever fish he’d caught that day, and whenever Davy came to walk the dog, he always had something with him in a green Borrowed Thyme bakery box—muffins, cookies, pies. The nurses had come to really love it whenever Davy appeared. Even the Gardners, who didn’t cook at all, brought by a pizza every few days.

I was still thinking about Henry much more than I wanted to, and I still wasn’t sleeping. But my grandfather also wasn’t sleeping, and so at night, we continued our star lessons. He’d whittle and tell me where to point the telescope, asking me to describe what I saw and then, later, to identify them myself. I learned how to find the constellations, so that I could see them even without the telescope. I was amazed to learn that there were things that could be seen with the naked eye, like other planets. And they’d been there all along, I just hadn’t known what was I was seeing.

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