Edward Adrift

Giants won 37–34. The Dallas Cowboys blow a lot of big leads. In this case, it wasn’t Tony Romo’s fault—he threw for four touchdowns. A lot of times, though, it is Tony Romo’s fault.
    I shake my head and remember that I’m here for Kyle, not for the Dallas Cowboys. I make myself a promise in the dark, but not like the kind in the Pat Benatar song. I promise that I will work hard while I am here to have fun with Kyle, to show him what funis, to remind him of the good times we used to have together and can have again.
    It feels good to have settled on a course of action. It’s 12:48 a.m. now. The fun starts in a few hours.

OFFICIALLY MONDAY, DECEMBER 12, 2011
    From the logbook of Edward Stanton:
    Time I woke up today: 8:33 a.m. (not counting the hours I stayed up past midnight). Fifth time this year I’ve been awake at this time.
    High temperature for Sunday, December 11, 2011, Day 345: 43 (according to the Boise newspaper). Same as the day before.
    Low temperature for Sunday, December 11, 2011: 26. Just one degree colder than the day before.
    Precipitation for Sunday, December 11, 2011: 0.00 inches
    Precipitation for 2011: 19.40 inches
    New entries:
    Exercise for Sunday, December 11, 2011: None, unfortunately. I drove, I ate, I watched the Dallas Cowboys, I went to bed. I need to rectify this today.
    Miles driven Sunday, December 11, 2011: 464.9
    Total miles driven: 688.3
    Addendum: I’m in Boise now. “Fun” is the key word. Kyle clearly isn’t having any, and neither are his parents. Neither am I, if I’m honest about the situation, and I always like to be honest. Iam here now, and I want to make the best of this visit, because soon enough I will be going home and then on to Texas to see my mother, and I do not know when I will see my friends again.
    Fun. It’s the most important word there is right now. That seems odd to say. I’ve never considered whether words ought to be ranked in terms of importance, although I know that etymologists like to track the frequency with which words are used. But frequency and import are not necessarily the same thing. Let’s just say that fun is a very important word for Donna, Victor, Kyle, and me right now. There is no need to give it any more gravity than that.
    I have a breakfast of oatmeal, which is fast becoming one of my favorite foods now that Dr. Rex Helton has recommended it to me as I battle my type 2 diabetes. Donna sits with me and we talk. I tell her about my diagnosis, and she’s greatly interested in that, because she’s a nurse and has seen the effects of unchecked diabetes up close.
    “Helton is absolutely right, Edward,” she says. “This is different than juvenile diabetes. You can beat this thing. You can shed the weight and get your sugars under control, and you can come off this medicine.”
    “It makes me pee a lot.” I pop a hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry. It’s impolite to talk about peeing.”
    I hear Kyle’s voice coming up from behind me. “Peeing is cool.”
    He says it like those cartoon characters on the music television channel, and then he chuckles stupidly like those two guys do.
    “OK, wise guy, come have some breakfast,” Donna says.
    She slides a bowl toward him, and he sits down in the chair to my right. I get a better look at him in the morning light, and he gets a better look at me.
    “Looks like your face is healing, dude,” he says.
    I touch the skin around my nose.
    “Really?”
    “Yeah. Man, you really got your ass kicked.”
    Donna snaps, “Don’t even start, young man.”
    He looks up at her, then digs into his breakfast.
    “Had you ever been beaten up before?”
    “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to, Edward,” Donna says.
    I put down my spoon. I don’t mind answering.
    “Beat up? No. I got picked on a lot. There were even boys who might have tried to beat me up, if they thought they could have gotten away with it. But, no, nobody ever did that before. I wasn’t ready for it.”
    “Are you going to learn to fight so it doesn’t happen again?”
    Kyle’s interest in this topic flummoxes me.
    “I don’t want to fight,” I say.
    “But what if someone wants to fight you?”
    “I’ll walk away.”
    “What if you can’t?”
    “I can’t imagine that circumstance. That doesn’t mean it wouldn’t happen. I just can’t imagine a situation where I wouldn’t have a chance to leave and extricate myself from what was happening. ‘Extricate’ is a good word, by