Page 25 of Chasing the Horizon

Was he copying his couples therapist? Ugh. He’d thought he was better than that.

“We’re going to get takeout and watch football,” Kade said.

“That sounds cozy,” Victor said. He guessed Great-uncle Jack couldn’t cook that well.

“It’s okay. I don’t really like football, but Uncle Jack does.”

“What don’t you like about it?” Victor asked.

“The games are so long,” Kade said. “I’m not used to watching television. We didn’t have one on the boat.”

This was a different sort of kid, a kid who’d grown up expecting far different things from the world. He’d probably seen all kinds of whales and dolphins and seabirds. It probably could never compare to what you could find on television.

Victor tried a few more tactics. He asked Kade about school and whether he’d made any friends.

“I guess this guy Chris is okay,” Kade said.

“What do you guys do together?”

Kade explained that sometimes they played video games at each other’s houses and usually paired up at school when theyneeded to have a partner. But it didn’t sound like the most profound of friendships. It didn’t sound like there was a lot of emotional love in Kade’s life.

But toward the end of the hour, Kade said something that nearly bowled Victor over.

He said, “I just wish things could be different, I guess.”

It struck him—not because of its honesty—but because he remembered someone else saying it a long time ago.

It was Joel, his son.

He’d said it after a baseball game when Joel had struck out for the first time. It was around when Joel’s athleticism had been failing him, but before Victor and Esme had caught on that anything was physically wrong with him. Before the c-word was tossed around. He’d always been fantastic at baseball, but they’d thought that maybe he was growing, that he wasn’t paying as close attention, and his hormones were out of whack. They hadn’t thought cancer was to blame.

I just wish things could be different, I guess.

And what had Victor said in response to Joel? He’d said, “You’ll get ’em next time. You won’t make the same mistake. I know it.”

But there hadn’t really been a next time for Joel. He’d died nearly thirty years ago. He hadn’t played many baseball games after that. He’d hardly gotten out of bed.

Victor’s palms were sweaty, and he wiped them on his lap and tried to rebound. But Kade, being a kid with great perception, had noticed something wrong with Victor.

“Do you need a glass of water?” Kade asked. He got to his feet.

Victor swallowed twice and told himself to concentrate. He’d never felt this way with a patient before.

“I’m just fine, Kade,” Victor said, his heart still thudding.

He hated how Kade was looking at him now. Like he was an old man. Like he, Victor, was someone Kade needed to protect.

Was this what getting older would be like? For the rest of Victor’s life?

Was this how his children would soon look at him?

Somehow, Victor found his way through the rest of the session. He didn’t get anything else of worth out of Kade. But a part of him hoped that Kade was more comfortable with him. A part of him hoped that next time, things would go better.

When Victor returned home that evening, his house was full of pre-Thanksgiving revelers. Valerie, Bethany, and Rebecca were all in the kitchen, toasting with alcoholic and nonalcoholic glasses of wine, and they had a massive platter of cheese, crackers, and other little snacks between them. They greeted him happily, and Victor nearly burst into tears.

It felt like he was just with Joel, Victor realized, hugging them all and grabbing a beer from the fridge. It felt like he just saw his son.

Victor excused himself to his study upstairs, assuring Esme and his daughters that he would “only be a minute.” When his door was shut, he squeezed his eyes shut and focused on his breathing.

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