“You seem surprisingly calm,” he said, as if just noticing.
“It’s the drugs,” she said with a big lazy grin. “I want them all the time.”
“I should never have left you alone. I’m an idiot.”
“I told you to.”
“I shouldn’t have listened.” Then: “I take it you couldn’t hear me, when we were on the phone.”
“I heard enough.” She squeezed his hand, glad he washere, but somehow still distant. “But words can’t change everything. They don’t erase you lying to me. They don’t prove that you’re actually capable of change.”
“I jumped out of a plane.”
“Admittedly, a pretty good start,” Wren said. “But just a start.”
He paused, resisting the urge to be defensive, to deny, to turn things around and hurl criticism at her. That, he knew, would probably be a pretty bad move, given the circumstances. Men had been thrown out of the delivery room for much less. Instead he let it all wash over him. It hurt to hear, but it was well deserved. Luckily, he’d had a feeling she might say something like that.
“I did lie about one more thing,” he said, pulling away just slightly. “I wasn’t really giving it my all this entire time, the bucket list. And…I made a few extra stops today before I got on that plane.”
“What do you mean?”
“Here. I wanted to be able to show you.”
He pulled his cell phone carefully out of his pocket and angled it so she could see. She cocked her head, confused, as if he was about to pull up YouTube and start showing her oldSNLsketches, which he was wont to do on occasion. But no. On the screen was his own face, sitting in the car, holding the camera in selfie mode. The version of himself from earlier that same day began to talk.
“OK, Wren, I knew you’d never believe me, so I wanted indisputable evidence.” The camera swooped in uncomfortably close to Arthur’s face as he searched for a button on the screen, the inside of his nostrils unfortunately all too visible as the lens autoshifted to macro mode, and then he flipped the camera around to show an empty intersection. Somewhererural, lots of green space and horse fencing in the background. “I drove out to the middle of nowhere looking for the perfect place, and I think I found it. Now, you can say what you want, but I think we can both agree that, in front of me, right now, is a red light, right? An honest-to-God red light. And I’m going to run it.”
Present Wren had her jaw open as if watching a contortionist twist his body into a pretzel. She was rapt. But she said nothing, not yet.
Back on video, Arthur continued narrating. “Now, I’ve looped around three times checking for cops and red-light cameras, and I haven’t seen a single other car come through, so I think we’re good.” A quick flip back to his face. “I’m gonna do it but I’m still gonna do it my way, see. Now, here we go.” Back to the road.
“I hadn’t been that scared behind the wheel since I took my driver’s exam.” Real Arthur chuckled. “I kept imagining some tractor trailer flying in out of nowhere and leveling me, and never making it here.” He watched her face. She was still glued, but silent.
“Three…two…one…” his voice narrated.
The camera shook as Arthur hit the gas, the light still clearly red, and Phone Arthur let out a little squeal of glee as the landscape blurred around him. Almost as if on cue, red and blue lights began to flicker on the edges of the screen, and a policewhoopfollowed. “Oh God…” A panicked Arthur fumbled for the camera, knocking it over, where it landed at his feet and angled up at him, giving him far too many chins as he dutifully pulled over.
He pressed stop on the video.
“For the sake of time, we’ll skip the part where you see me grovel like a frightened child to get out of a ticket. Besides, Ihave something better to show you,” he said, quickly adding, “Totally worked, though.”
He was getting nervous that she still hadn’t reacted. Not so much as a grin or a pity laugh. He naively hoped that the epidural had inadvertently subdued her sense of humor, but it was also extremely possible that he was striking out. Back to the screen, Arthur swiped and hit play on a new video.
Black. There was only black. A male voice that was not Arthur’s spoke.
“Whenever you’re ready. Don’t be nervous, but do be gentle. I’m right here.”
“Well, this has certainly taken a turn,” Wren quipped, sitting up a smidge. Finally, something.
“I think your thumb is in front of the camera,” Arthur’s voice narrated, and suddenly the image became clear after a haze of beige slid away from the lens. Arthur’s whole body was in the frame now. In some kind of store, Wren could tell by the fluorescent overhead lights. And there were glass containers around him. Tanks. A pet store.
Someone other than Arthur was filming. The man. Arthur was visibly shaking.
“Just reach your hand in and lay it flat, palm up. Let her come to you.”
“Is that?” Wren asked, squinting to see. “Oh my God.”
The random pet store employee, as if watching her reaction in real time, came closer and zoomed in on a chunky, prickly tarantula inside one of the tanks. And in an instant, Arthur’s shivering fingertips entered the frame right next to it. “Her.”
