Chapter 7
On Saturday, the Eppes men went their separate ways. Charlie insisted that he was not yet so sick that he couldn't take a nap by himself, so Alan stuck to his usual schedule, attending a book club in the morning, and doing the weekly grocery shopping that afternoon. Don spent most of the day at the office, signing off paperwork and e-mailing assignments to his team, so that they could get to work first thing Monday morning.
By early evening, he was back at his apartment, nursing a beer and channel surfing, when his cell rang.
"Eppes," he answered.
"Eppes, also," came the slightly bemused voice of his father.
Don smiled. "Hey dad, how's it going?" he asked. "How's Charlie?"
"He's listening to you on speaker phone," replied his brother. "Listen, Don, this isn't why we called, but can you do me a favor?"
"Of course, Buddy," said Don, leaning back into the couch and lifting his feet up onto the coffee table.
"Don't start that, okay? Don't make that the first thing you say."
Don sat back up and frowned into the phone. "What? What're you talking about, Charlie?"
Charlie mimicked Don's voice. "'Hey Dad, how's Charlie?'"
Don heard his father murmur, "Charlie, he's just concerned…"
Charlie spoke to them both. "I get that, okay? Guys…I really get that. But please…can't we be normal for just a little while longer?"
His voice sounded tired, and Don squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm sorry Charlie," he finally said, and suddenly a thought occurred to him. He opened his eyes and grinned. "I didn't mean to not be normal. It's just that it's genetic."
Charlie snorted and Don heard a strangled "Hey!" from his father.
"So why did you call?" he asked, still smiling.
There was a click while the phone was clicked off speaker mode, and soon he heard his father's voice. "Very funny," he said drily. "Charlie's gone back to the couch. I think he's having a hard time with this 'mild' infection."
Don's smile faded and he gripped the phone tighter. "Well, nothing's really 'mild' anymore, is it, Dad…" he said, and Alan sighed.
"No, no I guess not. Well listen, Don, Charlie and I were talking earlier, and he wants to have Larry and Amita over for Sunday brunch tomorrow. He's going to tell them."
"That's a good idea," Don said guardedly. "I'm sure this will affect his work even more than it has already. They should know."
"I thought so too, Don." His father was silent a moment. "He…well, he wants to invite you, also, and maybe your team members?"
"My team?" Don asked, surprised. "Why? Does he want to tell them, too? I guess he does spend a lot of time with us, consulting…that will probably change…"
His father interrupted him. "It's not that, I don't think, Donnie. It's for you. He knows you'll be distracted by this. He said that he wants Megan, Colby and David to know that they need to protect you better, now. Watch out for you. Be a support-system, you know?"
Don squeezed his eyes shut again and felt moisture threaten. "Dad…" he said quietly.
"I know," Alan answered. "He asked me to speak with Art, too, so that I'll have a friend to turn to when I need one."
Both men were silent for awhile.
"You know," said Alan finally, "he's been so open about this whole thing. I think it's important that we encourage that attitude to continue. He'll need to concentrate on his body, not waste his strength keeping secrets from us."
"You're right," Don answered, opening his eyes again and staring at his beer, which he no longer wanted. "What time is brunch?"
"We were thinking 10:30," answered Alan.
"Fine," said Don. "I'll call everybody on my end. I'll tell them it's important."
NUMBERS NUMBERS NUMBERS NUMBERS NUMBERS
Larry, Amita, Megan, Colby, and David exchanged stunned stares. Moments ago, they had been enjoying great food, Alan-Eppes-style, and then Charlie has asked them all to find a seat. He had smiled, and Larry and Amita recognized his switch into "teacher" mode. At first he paced a little while he explained events of the last week, but he soon grew tired, and sat down himself. Alan and Don filled in some of the blanks.
"Anyway," Charlie finally said, looking from one face to the other, "I thought you all should know this." He focused on Megan, then switched his eyes from David to Colby. "Don will need you," he said simply. "I will need to know you're keeping him safe."
Then he looked to Amita and Larry. "And you are my best friends," he said. "I could not do this without you."
Silence surrounded him, and Charlie felt like he did when he presented a particularly difficult principle to a freshman class. He was afraid that he had lost them somewhere.
"My G-d, Charles." Larry was the first to find his voice, but couldn't seem to think of anything else to say.
Suddenly, the day became too much for Charlie. The excitement and pleasure of a friendly get-together, the tension and palpable sorrow now sucking the air out of the room…Charlie stood up quickly. Too quickly, as it turned out, when dizziness caused him to sway. Several hands reached out, but it was Don who was there in an instant. It was Don who laid a warm hand on his arm, and said quietly, "Okay now, Buddy?" Charlie took a deep breath and steadied. Then he smiled, careful to make eye contact with everyone in the room.
"Please," he said, "Please stay and enjoy more of this delicious food. I'm sorry…" his voice and smile faltered a little, and he cleared his throat. He looked back at Don. "I'm sorry," he continued, "but I think I need to go up to my room and rest for awhile." In their stunned state, no one seemed to know what to say, and Charlie was soon gone. Megan looked around the room, trying to think, and saw Amita. The sight helped ground Megan, somehow, and she quickly crossed over to the other woman, and without speaking, placed a hand on her arm. Amita looked up, saw the sympathy in Megan's eyes, and unceremoniously burst into tears.
