Free Eleanor Rigby by Douglas Coupland Page B

sit and watch the movie as it plays.”
    “He’s twenty, Liz. And suddenly, now, you tell me you have a kid?”
    “Well, you barged in here, and again, I remind you, it’s not about you. ”
    “How come you two met just for the first time yesterday? What happened to cause that?”
    I looked at Jeremy. “It wasn’t out of the blue. Jeremy was in the hospital.”
    “What for?”
    Jeremy took the cue. “I OD’d—on some lame party drugs.” He walked over and showed Leslie his bracelet.
    Jeremy held the Baileys bottle upside down, hoping for a few extra drops.
    Leslie was on to her third cigarette, and asked, “How long have you known about Liz—your mother?”
    “A few years now.”
    “Why did you wait so long to introduce yourself?”
    “My families have all been disasters. I tried to make it on my own, but that’s not going too well. I just want to have nice, unscrewed-up family members around to make me feel normal. Without Liz, I’m going to be a write-off.”
    Bang! The room suddenly felt enormous—like a cathedral. And then the room grew so quiet I could almost hear Leslie’s cigarette smoke swirl.
    Leslie said, “That’s a fair whack of responsibility to dump on one person.”
    “I suppose it is.”
    I asked Jeremy, “Where do you live? Should I be getting you home? I’m really knackered from no sleep.”
    “I don’t have anywhere to live.”
    “What?”
    “It’s a breakup thing. Can I crash here? Just for a few days?”
    “Yes. Sure. Of course you can.” Instantly the chemicals in my body swirled with worry—I’d never had a guest in my place before. All I could think about were petty disruptions of my drab schedule. What was there for breakfast? I like to read my newspaper in silence. What about a key? And the bathroom!
    Jeremy said, “Don’t be so stressed. I’m a good guest. I’m clean. I don’t steal. And I’m good at fixing things.”
    Leslie and I prepared a bed, cobbling together enough blankets and pillows to make the couch sleepable. Jeremy watched all this in peace. He behaved as if I was making him happy, simply by being me. What a novel idea.
    The setting sunlight turned the room a blazing orange colour, and I remember how nice it made my sheets look. Leslie was asking about dinner plans, and when I looked at Jeremy he was shivering. “Jeremy?”
    Sweat was pouring from his face.
    “Jeremy? What’s wrong?”
    “I can’t see.”
    “You what?”
    “I can’t see.”
    “I don’t understand you.”
    Leslie said, “Liz, are you sure you need this?”
    “Leslie, shut up.” I held him by the shoulders. “Can you see light and darkness?” I waved my hand in front of his eyes. “Anything?”
    “No.”
    “Jeremy, what’s going on here? Did you do drugs again?”
    “No. Last night was an accident.”
    He put out his arm and I took him over to the bed we’d made. He told me he was frightened.
    “Jeremy, what can I do here? Should we go to the hospital?”
    “No.”
    “Honey, I don’t know what else to do.” A part of me marvelled that I’d gone from zero to “honey” inside a day.
    “Call Jane. I’ll give you the number.”
    “Who’s Jane?”
    “Call her. You’ll find out.”
    He gave me a number and curled up in a fetal ball. I dialed the number, and the woman’s voice on the end made me feel as if I’d caught her in the middle of her favourite TV show. “Yeah?”
    “Is this Jane?”
    “It is. Who’s this?”
    “I’m Liz.”
    Through the phone’s receiver I could hear her posture shift. “What about him?”
    “He’s here at my place. He checked out of the hospital okay, and we came here to eat and now he’s … blind.”
    “Oh jeez …”
    “What’s going on?”
    “Give me your address. I’m coming over right now.”
    “What am I supposed to do? Should I call an ambulance?”
    “No. Just stay there. Things’ll be fine. Give me a half-hour. Okay?”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Trust me.”
    So I did.
    *    *    *
    I wish