Page 68 of Notorious

Johnny nods.

“Then let’s see if we can get you work on one of the ranches in Hidden Valley. That’s not far from our house.” I look at him. “I guess I’m making assumptions, and I shouldn’t do that. But I have some friends who have horses, and I can ask them if they know anyone who’s hiring a ranch hand or someone to help with riding lessons. Do you want that?”

“That’d be mighty kind of you,” Johnny says.

When I call, I’m delighted to find out that they do have a need for him whenever he wants to start. Excellent.

The next day, though, Johnny’s still in bed when I arrive, and it’s the middle of the afternoon. When he gets up, his posture’s sagging, his feet are shuffling, and he’s got a vacant stare that worries me. I kiss him, but he seems utterly listless.

This is part of his illness. The part he doesn’t show anyone. The part where he withdraws.

I try starting a conversation about something unimportant, a TV show I watched last night, but he’s just not responsive.

Rather than force him to talk, I sit with him on a bench outside and watch the birds flit around and the deer amble on the main lawn. I hold his hand. At the end of visiting hours, he kisses me on the forehead and says, “Thanks, darlin’. Sorry I wasn’t up to it.”

I hug him tight, trying to will strength into him. “That’s okay. I guess some days are going to be like this. I’m still here for you. Just please promise you’ll still be here tomorrow.”

His voice is dull, but he promises.

After five days of inpatient care, the hospital deems Johnny ready to be discharged. When I arrive to pick him up, he’s waiting for me at the reception desk, holding four paper bags filled with the clothing and toiletries and books that I’ve brought him, and my eyes sting with tears. I’m so grateful I get to take him back home with me.

“Hey,” I say, relieving him of two of the bags.

“Hey, darlin’.” Johnny leans down and kisses me, and even though we’ve been kissing more and more, this kiss feels like a victory. He’s not magically cured or anything, but he seems stable. For today, anyhow. That’s a win. “Can we get these filled?” He hands me several prescription slips.

“Of course.” I drive us to the nearest pharmacy.

He’s going to have to go to outpatient care every day for a couple of weeks, then back to Dr. Gray. This is going to be a lot of work. But I have faith that he can feel better.

He’s kept promising to stay alive for just one more day.

I’ll still be watching out for him, of course. Besides, I want to keep him close to me for other reasons—as in, the fact that I like him. That I want to have a relationship with him.

He looks around the condo when we walk in, and his eyes catch on where I put his lifetime achievement award up on a prominent shelf in the living room. He swallows hard but doesn’t say anything.

“Let me know if there’s anything you need,” I say. “Also, you can use the Volvo to go to the job interview. After that, we can get you a different car, if you’d rather, or a truck?—”

“Hold it, hold it,” he says. “My tab is getting way too big.”

“What tab?”

“I’m gonna pay you back for all this you’ve spent on me.”

While I want to wave my hand and go “pfft,” I know he wouldn’t like that. Instead, I nod. “Okay. Just so you know my position, I don’t care if you pay me back or not. But I can tell it matters to you. We can keep the spending low, so it’s manageable. Right now, it’s not much—an increase in my car insurance, a few deductibles, and the therapist until insurance picks it up. How does that sound?”

“It’s more than that, but okay, yeah. Thanks. I ’preciate it.”

Johnny has a pride streak a mile wide, I think, which is why he had to get so low before he asked for help.

In fact, he never actually did ask for help—but he accepted it, and that’s what matters.

Johnny takes a shower and puts on some of the new clothes I got him. (Oops, I suppose he’ll add that to his tab, too.) I cook some steaks and grilled veg. Alcohol might not mix with his meds, so I pour us tall glasses of seltzer rather than beer, and we eat dinner outside on the balcony, looking at the highway and the ocean.

This is all I’ve ever wanted. Someone to be with me.

“It may be too early to tell,” I say, as we watch the sunset, “but do you think it was a good idea to check yourself in?”

“It was the best idea,” Johnny says sincerely. “I didn’t know how tangled up I’d gotten until I sat still for a moment and looked at the knots.”

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