After that, whatever Dr. Kanaan said was white noise; Theo could barely look at her, and she spent the rest of the time talking to his feet. When she left, he lay back, breathing in the old cigarette smoke and the liniment and trying to figure out how the fuck he was going to make it through the end of the day, let alone the end of the week.
Then the door opened, and steps came closer, and Theo smelled drugstore cologne and seared meat. Paper rustled.
“You awake, dingdong?”
When Theo opened his eyes, Cart was holding out a burger.
“Thought you might be hungry and not want whatever circus-animal shit they’re feeding you.”
Theo started to cry.
“All right,” Cart said, and he set aside the burger and rolled up his sleeves and sat next to Theo, not touching him until the end, just talking nonsense, and then, when Theo finally had himself under control again, tucking Theo’s hair behind his ears.
“How about that burger?” Cart said.
“Yeah,” Theo said.
They ate for a while in silence; it was the best burger Theo had ever tasted.
“Cart,” Theo said. “Thanks.”
“Somebody’s gotta keep you from getting into more of your peckerbrained fuckery.”
23
Two weeks passed, and Auggie went to see Theo every day. Sometimes it was just for ten minutes. Sometimes he’d stay curled up in one of the chairs, pretending to do homework while Theo pretended to work on his thesis. More than once, he crossed paths with Cart, and Auggie would smile and say hi. Cart wouldn’t smile, but at least he’d say hi, and they both found reasons to leave when the other one showed up.
And then Theo went home, and the next night, Auggie stood on the porch and knocked. Snow crunched under his boots as he shifted his weight. His stream of breath seemed to catch fire in the cold air, passing in front of the yellow porch light. Down the street, a cat yowled, and then trash cans crashed against each other as something, probably the cat, burst into a flurry of movement.
When the door opened, Theo was wearing joggers and an 80s-era Blues sweatshirt. The bruises that covered him were finally starting to fade, and the cuts were healing nicely. The only thing the doctors were still cautious about was the stab wound, the one that he had taken for Auggie, but even that seemed like it was on the mend.
Theo just smiled, ran his hands through that bro flow of strawberry-blond hair, and motioned for Auggie to come in.
“Home sweet home,” Auggie said, unlacing his winter boots, stripping out of his coat, getting tangled for the millionth time in his scarf and Theo not missing a beat, catching the end of it and spinning him out of it.
The house looked really good. The walls had been finished and painted, and it was quite a bit warmer inside than Auggie remembered. Theo had even hung a few pieces of art that hadn’t been there before: some were obviously done by Lana, while others were watercolors of nature scenes. The toys had been cleared out, the couch had been replaced, and the TV looked old but functional; the Blues were playing the Devils, and they were up by one.
“Do you want something to drink?” Theo asked. “Or something to eat? Cart picked up groceries before I came back, so I actually have stuff.”
“That was nice of him,” Auggie said.
Theo raised an eyebrow.
“What?” Auggie said.
“No way,” Theo said, limping over to the new couch. “Don’t start.”
“Did Ian do these?” Auggie asked, studying the watercolors. One of them showed a deer at the edge of a pool of water. Another showed a barn. The level of detail made Auggie think these were real places—the crumbling foundation under one corner of the barn, for example. Another showed the Gothic skyline of Wroxall’s campus.
“I’m trying to watch this,” Theo said.
“These are really good,” Auggie said. He moved slowly from painting to painting. At one of them, which showed a valley with what Auggie thought were crabapple trees in blossom, he stopped and said, “God, I’d love to go somewhere like that.”
“Auggie,” Theo said. Then the goal buzzer sounded, and he shouted, “Hell yeah!”
“Is this around here?”
“Ok,” Theo said, “commercial break. Yes. Those are real places around here. Yes, that’s part of a state park, probably an hour away. And no, Ian did not do those.”
“Oh my God,” Auggie said.
“No, do not turn this into a whole thing. When this commercial break is over, I’m watching the game.”
“You did these,” Auggie said.
Theo rolled his eyes, but he blushed behind the beard. “I hit a rough spot after my family cut me off. One of the things my therapist suggested was trying new activities. Anything artistic was a waste of time for my parents, so I’d never even tried. Anyway, I found them when I was putting some of Ian’s stuff in the basement, and I thought I’d hang them up.”
“They’re beautiful.”
“No,” he said laughing, “they’re not. But thank you. They’re just a reminder that, you know, things get better.”
Auggie studied the crabapples in blossom.
“Come sit down, would you?”
“Theo, I think I’m going to move home.”
“What?”
Auggie leaned in a little closer; Theo had painted the faintest hint of blossoms tumbling away on the wind, and Auggie realized that at some point, Theo had stood in that valley, had seen those crabapple trees, had seen the breeze carrying the petals.
“Hey, what are you talking about?”
“I think I’m—”
“Uh uh. Sit your ass over here and talk to me.”
On the TV, the game came back on, and Auggie heard the thwack of a stick slapping a puck.
“Commercial break’s over,” Auggie said.
Theo turned off the TV. “There, done, permanent commercial break. Are you going to sit down, or do I have to hobble over there, every fucking cut and scrape and bruise screaming at me?”
“Hey,” Auggie said, glancing over.
Theo shrugged. “Your choice.”
After Auggie sat on the couch, he said, “You fight dirty.”
“What are you talking about, Auggie? Moving home? What, because of
