Chapter 2

The weekend Don had been looking forward to quickly turned into torture. All three Eppes men had to process the possible results of Charlie's bone marrow aspiration, which had been scheduled for Monday afternoon. In the laundry room of his apartment building, Don found himself staring at the clothes in a dryer, counting the number of circles they made around the cylinder, and he tried to calculate how many circles equaled a dry sock. "Charlie could do this," he thought. "Charlie CAN do this…Charlie WILL do this…" Frustrated, he abandoned the laundry and drove over to Charlie's house.

He walked into a kitchen he barely recognized. Cupboards were open and bare, their contents spilled onto the counters. His father stood at the open door of the refrigerator, gazing thoughtfully inside. "Hey, dad," said Don. "What's going on in here?"

Alan started, then turned to look at Don. "You scared me, Donnie," he said. "I've decided to inventory the kitchen, maybe rearrange a few things…". Sheepishly, he added, "I need something to keep busy."

Don gave his father a small, tight smile as he sat at the table. "I know what you mean," he said. "I finally gave up on my laundry. I found myself trying to apply mathematical principles to socks."

His father's eyebrows arched, and he joined Don at the table. "What? You don't even like math!"

"I don't get it either," offered Don. "I guess I was trying so hard not to think about Charlie, I started thinking like him."

Father and son looked at each other, trying to lend each other the comfort that knew no words. Finally, Don shifted in his chair slightly. "Where is he?" he asked. "I thought maybe we could go to a matinee or something. Something normal, and distracting."

"Last time I saw him, he was sleeping on the couch," Alan answered. He rose to get back to reorganizing the kitchen, looking one last time at Don. "If you get him to go with you," he said quietly, "please try to work a late lunch in. I know he says he has no appetite, but he's got to eat…he'll need his strength."

Don squeezed his father's shoulder as he passed behind him to enter the rest of the house. In the living room, Charlie was, as Alan had said, sleeping on the couch. Don sat in the nearby chair and watched him for awhile. He was covered with one of their mother's afghans, though it felt warm in the room to Don. Even sleeping, Charlie looked exhausted. There were dark shadows under his eyes, and Don could see bruises on the arms that rested outside the blanket. "I don't care how recently this started," thought Don. "We should have seen how badly he felt."

Charlie shifted on the couch and Don called, "Charlie? You waking up, Buddy?"

Tired eyes opened and focused on Don. A slow smile spread across Charlie's face. "Donnie!", he said, raising one hand to rub at his eyes. "What're you doing here? Run out of laundry?"

Don laughed. Apparently, some part of Charlie had been listening at the dinner table Thursday night. "No, I think I'm covered there," he answered wryly. "But I'd rather go to a movie. How about you? Are you up to joining me?"

Charlie slowly rose to a sitting position and yawned. "Sure," he said. "What time is the movie? What time is it right now? Do I have time…"

"Whoa, Whoa, Whoa, Charlie!", laughed Don. "I haven't picked out anything, I just thought we'd go to the Cineplex and see what's up. So you have time for whatever."

"Good idea," Charlie said, pushing up off the couch. "I think I'll take a shower first. It might help wake me up. Okay?"

"Perfect," answered Don. "Maybe I'll find the newspaper and go ahead and check the listings while I wait."

NUMBERS NUMBERS NUMBERS NUMBERS NUMBERS

Three-and-a-half hours later, the brothers sat together in a Mexican restaurant, sharing their favorite scenes of the comedy they had just seen. Don was happy to see Charlie so relaxed, and yet so animated — almost like the "real" Charlie.

"Did you notice the thumb drive on that PC?" Charlie was asking. "It had to be glued there, that particular model of PC doesn't even have a USB port!"

Don shook his head. "It's a movie, Charlie, and a low-budget comedy at that. It's not supposed to be an accurate depiction of reality!"

Suddenly Charlie dropped the chip he was holding and paled. "Wow," he said, "this is somewhat unexpected…"

"What is it, Buddy?" asked Don, watching his brother with concerned eyes.

"I'm sorry," Charlie answered, quietly. "I don't know where this comes from…I've been having a great time, I was even hungry…" his voice trailed off so that Don could not hear him anymore. He couldn't hear him, but he could see the shade of porcelain his skin was becoming.

"Do you need to go home and rest?" he asked, touching Charlie lightly on the arm.

Charlie swallowed and looked at Don. "I think I'm going to have to…" and suddenly, a burst of energy propelled him from the booth, and he walked rapidly toward the back of the restaurant. Don half-stood to follow, but was intercepted by the waitress with their meals. "Thank you," Don said, smiling charmingly at her, "but we've just been called away. Could we get that to go?"