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The two take off, heading to their gate, the girl keeping her head down and walking close to Kenny.
Steve goes back to taking my hand and leading us toward our rental car place. “Huh,” he says. “Small world.”
18
DAMASCUS
Ifeel pretty lousy sitting here in the support group today. Not only because I acted like a jackass the last time I was here, but because of the girl problems I am dealing with, too.
I just don’t get it. Things were going amazing with Blair. She was helping me get over Jennifer. But nowBlairis mad at me.
Blair is currently mad at me, and Jennifer has recently admitted that she misses me. And now my head is all confused and messed up again, and my heart hurts. Especially since it’s Christmas Eve, and I already hate this time of year as it is.
Thankfully, the support group leader knows me well enough now to help me calm down. The entire meeting, she doesn’t make me speak, and she hardly even looks at me or pretends to know I’m here, so I’m able to just sit in silence and listen.
At the end of the session, as everyone is heading out the door, the support group leader calls out to me, wanting me to hang back.
I turn around, only steps away from the exit door.
“I’m supposed to give Shawn a call,” she says to me. “I was wondering if you wanted to say hi.”
Finally, some good news.
I can’t help but smile at her a little. “Yeah, I would love that. Thanks.”
She motions for me to sit down in the metal chair next to her. Then she gets on her smartphone and calls Shawn. He answers quickly, sitting in a comfy chair and looking happy. I can tell that whatever he’s using to video chat us is propped up against something so that he doesn’t have to try and use his hands.
“Leah!” Shawn greets, beaming at the support group leader.
Leah grins back at him. “It’s not just me. Somebody else wants to say hi to you, too!”
She moves the camera so that I am on the screen, and Shawn smiles at me. “Damascus?!”
It gives me a pit in my stomach to see and hear how much his ALS has progressed. His voice is a lot more slurred than I remember, and I can tell just by looking at his torso how his muscles have started weakening. Instantly, I feel the lump in my throat.
But I smile at the man anyway. “Hey, Shawn. Merry Christmas.”
He nods his head. “How are you holding up?”
“I guess I could be worse,” I say with a sly smile. It’s a joke we always use with each other. He thinks it’s funny when I complain about my crappy life, and then look at him and say, “But at least I’m not you.” It’s slightly morbid, but we think that’s what makes it funny. And ironic, too, because sometimes I actually do wish I were him.
Shawn and I used to attend these ALS support meetings together back when he lived here in town. Leah has been our group leader the entire time. For some reason, out of everyone who came and went, the three of us have built a relationship that stuck.
“We sure do miss having you here,” Leah says to Shawn.
“Is it crazy for me to admit that I sort of miss it, too?” he asks. Leah and I both chuckle.
“Well, you should come back sometime,” Leah suggests.
“Yeah! Come see us. I bet this place iswaycooler than your fancy new mansion out there in LA,” I join in.
Shawn laughs, then the three of us stay and talk a lot longer than I expected.
When Shawn has to go to a doctor’s appointment, Leah hangs up. I help her collect and carry her things, then we walk outside of the building together. We had another snowfall last night and this morning, so fresh snow goes up to our ankles as we walk down the steps and onto the sidewalk. The two of us are cracking up, our shoulders bumping into each other, over the dumb, rich-person-thing that Shawn had been complaining about when we were on the phone with him.
I’m grateful to have Shawn and Leah this Christmas season; they seem to be the only two consistent people in my life.
We begin to cross the street, but then Leah jumps, startled by something. I stop walking and look at her, noticing that she had abruptly stopped laughing and is now staring at something across from us.
