At twenty-seven, YouTube sensation Ben Leonards is married to his work. If he's not whipping up lasagna with a side of science experiments, he's running statistical analysis of bitcoin during explosive behavior periods.
When a friend asks him to org...
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"Are you late because you brought dinner?" Tall's bracing himself against the wall of this entryway. He's paler than the last time I saw him, but maybe it's the artificial light in his hallway.
"It's coming. I ordered from your favorite sandwich shop. They'll be delivering shortly." I go through the door past him. "Are you feeling ok?" At a closer inspection his face is shiny with sweat. "Did you get here without your walker? You're supposed to use it at home at all times." I put down my helmet on the floor under his ancient rotary phone.
"Sure. We all know that will not happen. I won't drag that thing around the house with me." Tall wipes his brow. "I'm also supposed to move more and getting from the chair to the door is not that hard. I'm perfectly capable to walk on my own. Look at me." He lifts his hands in the air and does the slowest twirl I've even seen. On the last turn he looses his balance, but catches himself on the wall.
"Are you dizzy?" I lean to help steady him.
"Dizzy? Nonsense. It's exertion. I'm good."
"I'm not Ben and I won't chastise you, but you know you are defying your doctor's orders."
"Not the first time. I've been through the hip recovery. I know what it's like." He takes small steps into the living room and has to let go of the wall. I cleared up the books off the floor before I moved, and stacked them on the shelves or underneath them. There's a box by his chair that shouldn't be there. The path to chair should be clear.
"Why is there a box in the middle of the floor?"
"Come and see what I have for you." He lowers himself into the chair. His breathing is hard, as if he ran a mile.
I take my place opposite him on the recliner that used to be his favorite, but he can no longer get in and out of.
"What's this?" I pick it up to gauge the weight of the box. It's not full of books, that much I can tell.
"Open and you will find out." He wipes more sweat off his brow.
The lid isn't taped, it comes off in one go and I recognize what I see.
"You kept them all?" I take out a bundle of my letters to Tall tied with twine.
"Of course. Sentimental value. Haven't you kept mine?"
"Not all. I'm not that organized. But Mom did send what I had left. Must be in the unopened boxes."
"I thought you can put them in order. I haven't read any of them since after I got them. It's the last five years of your life right here. At least what you've shared with me."
"Which was a lot. Too much, it appears." I lift my eyes to him to mock-judge him. "You, however, had plenty of secrets left."
"I should've told you about Benny," Tall says and looks at the photo of his son I framed and put on his side table. "But now you know everything." He rubs his hand over his chest. Thinking about Benny must still be painful. Or is it about more than just his son?
