I shook my head.
“Fear. I am an old man, and I’m broken.” He said this without self-pity, but as a man states a fact. “I think you should go home long enough to reassure your father that all is well so far, don’t you? Perhaps have a bite of supper. Then you can come back and feed Radar and give me my goddam pills. They said I would become addicted, and it hasn’t taken long to prove them right.”
“That sounds like a plan.” I paused. “Mr. Bowditch… Howard… I’d like to bring my dad up to meet you. I know you’re not exactly a people-person even when you aren’t busted up, but—”
“I understand. He wants to reassure himself, which is perfectly reasonable. But not tonight, Charlie, and not tomorrow. Wednesday, perhaps. By then I might feel a little better.”
“Okay,” I said. “One more thing.” I wrote my cell number on a Post-it and put it on the little table beside his bed—a table that would soon be covered with rubs and gauze pads and pills （but not the Oxy）。 “The bell is for when I’m upstairs—”
“Very Victorian.”
“But any time I’m gone and you need me, call me on my cell. Whether I’m in school or not. I’ll tell Mrs. Silvius in the office what the situation is.”
“All right. Go on. Reassure your father. But don’t be late coming back, or I’ll try to get up and find those pills myself.” He closed his eyes.
“Bad idea,” I said.
Without opening them, he said, “The universe is full of them.”
9
Mondays are catch-up days for my father, often he’s not home until six-thirty or even seven, so I didn’t expect to find him there, and he wasn’t. He was outside Mr. Bowditch’s front gate, waiting for me.
“I left work early,” he said when I came out. “Worried about you.”
“You didn’t have to—”
He slung an arm around my shoulders and gave me a hug. “So sue me. I saw you come out and talk to a young woman while I was halfway up the hill. I waved, but you didn’t see me. You looked like you were concentrating hard on whatever she was telling you.”
“And you’ve been waiting out here since then?”
“I thought about knocking on the door, but I guess in this situation I’m like a vampire. I can’t come in until I’m invited.”
“Wednesday,” I said. “I talked to him about it.”
“Sounds good. In the evening?”
“Maybe around seven. He gets his pain pills at six.”
We started walking down the hill. His arm was still around my shoulders. I didn’t mind. I told him I didn’t want to leave Mr. Bowditch alone for long, so I couldn’t stay for supper. I said I’d put together a few things—my toothbrush came to mind—and find something to eat in his pantry （just not sardines）。
“You don’t need to do that,” Dad said. “I brought subs from Jersey Mike’s. Take it back with you.”
“Great!”
“How is he?”
“In a lot of pain. I hope the pills he takes will help him sleep. He gets more at midnight.”
“Oxys?”
“Yes.”
“Keep them safe. Don’t let him know where they are.” This was advice I’d already had, but at least Dad didn’t ask if I might be tempted to try one myself.
At home I stuffed a couple of days’ worth of clothes in my backpack, along with my Nighthawk portable hotspot—my phone was good, but the Nighthawk provided kickass WiFi. I added my toothbrush and the razor I’d started using two years before. Some guys at school were sporting stubble that year—it was a thing—but I like a clean face. I did it fast, knowing I could come back tomorrow for anything I forgot. I was also thinking of Mr. Bowditch alone in his big old leaky house with only his elderly dog for company.
When I was ready to go, my father gave me another hug, then held me by the shoulders. “Look at you. Taking on a serious responsibility. I’m proud of you, Charlie. I wish your mother could see you. She’d be proud, too.”
“I’m kind of scared.”
He nodded. “I’d be worried if you weren’t. Just remember that if anything happens, you can call me.”
“I will.”
“You know, I was looking forward to you going to college. Now, not so much. This house is going to feel empty without you.”
“I’m just a quarter-mile up the street, Dad.” But there was a lump in my throat.