33 I’m Right Here

33

i’m right here

Alexander

It’s September now. Los Angeles is unbearably hot. This morning, Dani asked if I could move her chair into the garden again for the fourth time this week. She’s been sitting there for hours. The peach tree she’s next to is fruitless and the tomatoes have all come and gone, but Dani likes that spot. I think she spends a lot of her time now imagining chapters in our story that don’t involve her having ALS. I think that’s how she’s coping.

We gave up the apartment a couple of months ago because we needed the money to pay for Dani’s care. It’s better for all of us to be together in one place anyway. Dani didn’t argue with that.

I buried the girls’ ashes under the peach tree and had some marble engraved and placed there. Dani chose the inscription, Angel Babies—Jane and Lucy.

When Dani and I told the boys that she had ALS, they went through all the stages I did. There was a lot of denial. Noah looked for alternative medicines and researched possible cures, while Ethan would repeat over and over to Dani, “You’ve got this, Mom! You’ll beat this.” It didn’t matter that we repeatedly told him there was no way she could actually beat it, he still believed she could, because Noah and Ethan believe that Dani is superhuman. She has showed them how to solve every single one of their problems, except for this one.

Outside, in the shade, Dani watches the boys play catch or jump on the new trampoline while she sits in her chair in the garden, dreaming up Noah and Ethan’s perfect futures that she’s going to miss.

Her disease progressed much faster than we expected. Over the few months after she was diagnosed, we carried on the way we had been. Falling in love again, enjoying our lives, and trying to avoid the idea that we were going to lose each other. But it wasn’t long before regular tasks started becoming more difficult for her.

Dani can still talk, but it’s very hard to understand her. She can still walk a little sometimes, but that’s deteriorating quickly. She has to be fed with a feeding tube connected to a port in her stomach, and most of her personal needs are assisted by a caretaker who comes in four days a week.

An ALS specialist came to the house yesterday and set up a system that would allow Dani to communicate on a computer since she cannot type anymore and her speech is also progressively getting worse day by day. The computer tracks Dani’s eye movements as they move around a keyboard to select words. There is a very large learning curve and she has to train the computer to know her most common phrases. It’s tedious, and for a woman who wrote as a career, sometimes ten thousand words a day, it’s frustrating for her that it takes fifteen minutes to form a sentence. We are reassured by the specialist that Dani will get the hang of it. Privately, Dani told me that she’d rather not say anything at all .

I hear the doorbell ring, and I know that it’s Dani’s father coming for a visit. His first and likely his only. Jim isn’t equipped for handling this sort of thing. If I were in his shoes, the worst part would be knowing I was the last member of my family to roam around this planet with none of the people I built my life with. But he’s already been living that way since Ben died. I know this visit is an obligatory one.

I open the door. “Hi, Jim, come on in.” He smiles, but doesn’t say anything. He steps into the entryway and stands awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. I always wondered if he was shy. After two decades of being with Dani, I had barely spoken to him other than surface small talk. It used to be a point of contention. I thought he didn’t like me. After living with Irene, getting to know the normal side of her during her lucid moments, it became obvious their family was more matriarchal. Irene ran the show in many ways, and Jim took a quiet backseat. I think when Ben died and they divorced, Jim just went through the motions of his life, as disconnected as one person could be.

“How have you been?” Jim asks.

“I’m okay. Dani’s outside in the garden. I’ll take you out there in a minute. Did you know the Emmys are on tonight? Dani’s nominated twice.”

“That’s great,” he says with a smile. I’m surprised he doesn’t say he’s proud of her, but I guess he never really has.

Jim is average height, looks a little like Dani, dark hair that’s now completely gray, and light brown eyes. He’s thin, like for twenty years he’s only been eating to survive, and he always wears Levi’s, a white T-shirt, sneakers, and an old Dodgers hat. He must have several of each because I’ve only ever seen him wear that outfit, except for at our wedding, when Dani had to rent him a suit .

Jim follows me to the back door and stops for a moment when we reach the shelves where the record collection is. He looks at them, then glances next to the shelf where Dani’s hospital bed is set up in the living room. There are machines and trays with medications. It looks like a place where someone is setting up to die…and it is.

“She’s outside.”

He nods. I stay inside, he won’t be here long. Dani has had an exhausting day and I don’t want him adding to her stress by being so seemingly aloof.

She’s still sitting in her motorized chair near the peach tree.

“Hello, Dani,” Jim says to her. She smiles a crooked smile. When she talks now, she sounds drunk. In fact, when she was packing up her office to leave and I was helping her, some of the staff on the show, who didn’t know Dani was sick, asked if she was drinking to celebrate the Emmy nods. Dani’s reply to everyone was, “You know it!” She always said it with a smile.

“Hi, Dad,” she says. She seems a little clearer today, but her smile is crooked and her eyes are a bit droopy from the medication.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” I say, and go into the kitchen to pour Jim some iced tea. I take my time so they can talk. It’s only been about five minutes when I start to head back outside and see Jim walking toward me. “Iced tea?” I try to hand him the glass, but he doesn’t take it.

“Actually, I’m going to head out.” He takes an envelope from his pocket and hands it to me. “This is some of my bonus, if you could pass it on to the boys? For their college funds or if they want to buy a new bike or something.” He smiles faintly and then his eyes well up.

“Jim—”

He cuts me off. “I got to go.” His voice cracks, he looks at his feet, shoves his hands in his pockets, and walks toward the front door. I doubt I will see him again until the funeral.

After watching him walk out the door, I find Dani, in the same spot. She looks up and smiles at me. “When is…Alicia…coming…”

It’s getting so hard for Dani to talk. “She and Mark will be here around five with the gang. What happened with your dad? Why was he only here for a minute?”

“Don’t let yourself…don’t let yourself…Come here,” she says, and she’s reaching her arms out to me.

I brace the arms of her chair and bend over so that we are eye to eye. “What is it, Dani? Tell me.”

She puts her hands on my face. I know this is difficult for her physically. She pulls me close so we’re mere inches apart. “Don’t let this break you like…don’t be broken like him. For the boys.”

I nod. “I know, Dani. We don’t have to talk about that.”

“Yes, we do. While I still can.”

“No, Dani, we’re going to get that machine set up for you, where you can say anything you want. You have to try and…” Istop myself. I can tell she’s getting irritated, and I don’t want to piss her off.

“Listen to me…please,” she begs. “I can’t even cry. My tears hardly work anymore. I’m crying inside, it’s so frustrating.”

“I know,” I say.

“I want to talk to you now, while I can.” She’s having one of her good talking days, which she knows are few and further between now.

“Okay. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll listen,” I tell her.

About thirty yards behind us, on the other side of the yard, Noah and Ethan are jumping on the trampoline, playing some sort of wrestling game. The springs are loud as they jump and I’m relieved the boys are behaving like they should, playing joyfully even if the moments like this are fleeting lately. Dani and I are about to have a conversation. I’m not sure where it’s going, but I know it’s serious and I know it will take her some time to express herself.

I pull a patio chair over to sit next to her.

“My dad told me he loved me. He said he wished he would have gotten help for himself. He said he’s felt like an observer of his life. Like he was watching it on a movie screen, because if it came to life, he’d have to walk around with a broken heart forever.”

I nod. “I know, Dani. I think he does the best he can.”

She smiles. “You can’t be that way, Alex. You can’t throw in the towel. The boys need you to show them how to live, not just exist.”

“You’ve taught them a lot, Dani. What is this really about?”

“Find someone. Don’t take forever either. The longer you wait, the harder it will be.”

“What are you talking about?” I say, and now I’m irritated.

“Put me on your lap,” she says.

I pick her up and set her on my lap. I’m on the verge of tears. Her body is deteriorating by the second. I doubt she even weighs ninety pounds anymore.

“Just say what you want to say, Dani.”

“You’re a relationship person. Find a wife, or a girlfriend at least. Make sure she’s good to the boys—”

“Dani—”

“No, I won’t stop. Make sure she’s intelligent, not just nice, with a good sense of humor. And find someone with a good ass. You really got screwed out of that on your first go-round.”

“I love your ass, Dani.”

“You know what I mean.” She laughs, and it’s been a while, so it sounds amazing to me. I feel her body jerking with laughter. “I don’t feel like I have much more time, or many days where I can find words like this. I want to tell you my wishes and I want you to talk to the boys. I thought about writing them letters, but I don’t think I can anymore, and I don’t want to use that stupid machine.”

“I understand. What are your wishes?”

I’m looking at her and thinking about how beautiful she is. How she’s always been beautiful, inside and out. How she’s the best kind of pain in the ass. How I’m going to miss being frustrated with her. How I’m going to miss everything.

“You’re such a good-looking man, with a great job, and a good heart and soul, and you have these amazing kids that any woman would be lucky to know. Someone is going to be so lucky…I mean, Alex, you’re really good in bed. You’re, like, the best.”

She laughs again and so do I. “Okay, Dani,” I say, and roll my eyes. “What else?”

“I don’t want to be buried in that weird family plot my mom is in,” she says. It’s starting to sound like Dani is getting tired. She’s slurring, but I know she’s determined to tell me what she has to say.

We never made plans for our wishes after death and I’m nervous about where the conversation is going, but she is right. We need to talk about it now before it’s too late.

“What should we do, Dani?”

“I want to be cremated. Put a little bit of me in this garden. Then I want you to call Trevor Locks. The special effects guy on the show.”

I can feel myself starting to smile because I know Dani is either about to tell a joke or ask for something ridiculous. Dani is still inside there. Even though her body is giving out, she’s still in there. “Dani—”

“Listen. I want you to ask him to mix some of my ashes with that firework stuff and then just shoot me into the air, like grand finale style. I mean I want to go out with a bang, you know?”

We both laugh, but I think she’s serious. “You’re kidding?”

“No,” she says. “Why the hell not? Let the kids have a sense of humor. Don’t take life so seriously. I wish I hadn’t.”

“No regrets,” I say.

“We all have some. Definitely the ice-cream thing at the mall, but not the Beth Zinn punch.”

I kiss her. “I love you so much, Dani. I don’t know what I’m going to do…”

“You’re going to do exactly what I told you. Watch some fireworks, find a new person who makes you laugh and is good to the boys, and live your life. One last thing, Alex?”

“Anything, Dani.”

“Split the record collection up for the boys. We’ll go through them. I’ll help you choose who gets what.”

“Of course, Dani.”

“Who is going to be here tonight to watch the Emmys? I don’t know how I’m going to feel in a couple of hours. I’m already pretty weak.”

“You don’t have to entertain anyone, it’s just Mom, Dad, Josh, and Amanda. Alicia and Mark and Mirabel.”

“Okay. Well, I wasn’t planning on doing a song and dance. Don’t make a big deal out of it if we lose, okay? Just serve cake or something so people don’t feel uncomfortable. I don’t care that much about the Emmy,” she says.

“You must care a little.”

“Maybe for Lars and Eli, but stuff like that doesn’t matter when you’re dying. The only thing that matters is how the people you love are feeling.”

“Okay, Dani,” I say quietly.

Later, when my mom and Alicia are at the house, they’re whirling dervishes in the kitchen, preparing platters and drinks while Dani watches them from her chair in the doorway.

“Alicia,” she says. “Put some booze in my feeding tube.”

“I heard that, Dani,” I say from the other side of the kitchen.

She shrugs. Alicia walks over and hands Dani a shot of tequila. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” my mother says.

“Thank you,” Dani says to Alicia.

“I’ll always have your back,” Alicia says, and then she lets out the most painful-sounding exhalation, then buckles over and starts crying hysterically. I’ve never seen Alicia like this. Dani moves her chair closer to Alicia as my mom hurries to Alicia’s side.

Dani starts getting emotional, but she’s trying to play it cool. I can’t imagine how hard it is to see everyone breaking down around her.

I go to Alicia and take her in my arms. “Dani’s always been the strong one,” Alicia whispers.

“I know,” I say.

“I’m not dead yet. Jesus Christ, will you guys hold the crying until they’re wheeling my corpse outta here?”

“Danielle!” my mother scolds, but Alicia and I are laughing now through our tears.

Later, we’re all sitting around the TV—the boys, my parents, Amanda, Josh, Mirabel, Alicia, and Mark. Everyone is sort of positioned around Dani’s chair, sitting on the floor or leaning against the couch.

Dani looks up at me. “It’s the next award. Get the cake ready.”

The lead actress of Yours and Mine was nominated for Best Actress in a Drama, but she didn’t win. Dani’s show is also nominated for Outstanding Drama Series and this would be the award Dani would accept as the showrunner. Tonight, Lars and Eli are there in her place .

“Here we go,” Mirabel says.

Jason Bateman and Steve Carell are presenting the Emmy and when Dani heard this news, she was so happy. They’re two of her favorite actors. They come out and tell a joke, then announce the nominees. Dani has moved her chair right up close to the TV. When the camera cuts to Lars and Eli, she touches the screen, as if she’s telling them she loves them.

“And the Emmy for Outstanding Drama Series goes to Yours and Mine, Danielle Brolin, Eli Abrahms, and Gina Edwards,” Jason Bateman says with a huge smile.

The room erupts. Dani is still just staring at the TV. “You did it, Mom,” Noah yells.

I go to Dani’s side. She looks up at me and smiles. “Cake and champagne,” she says. “Quiet everyone!” she says to everyone else.

We watch the TV as Eli, Gina, and Lars approach the podium. Eli and Gina move aside so Lars can take the microphone. “If Dani could be here, she would say how grateful she is. But since we’re here in her place, we get to say how grateful we are for her. This was her vision, her dream, her hard work, her boundless talent, her undeniable vivacity, her zeal, and her passion. She’s a rare and precious gem and we’re all lucky to have her in our lives. Like in her other speeches, Dani would stand here and attempt to thank every single person who worked on the show in any capacity and it wouldn’t take long before the music would be rising and they would be shooing her off the stage. If Dani is any part of your life, you know you’ve been touched by a great, compassionate, and one-of-a-kind person who has more integrity than anyone I know. Love you, D, you deserve ten of these!” He holds the Emmy up, smiles, and then starts to cry as he walks off the stage.

There’s a standing ovation from the audience and Dani is still watching the TV, sitting one foot away from it and just taking itin.

“What a great speech,” Mark says. “Congratulations, Dani.”

Everyone else hugs and congratulates her. We’re all trying to hold it together. Dani’s grateful and gracious, but I can tell she’s worn out from the long day. She isn’t saying much.

Once everyone leaves, I’m setting her up in her bed in the living room, where I sleep next to her on the couch. The boys are brushing their teeth upstairs. I lay Dani down and she dozes off almost instantly. As I’m moving around cleaning up, she startles awake with a scream. Something guttural…terrified.

I run to her side. “What is it?”

“I…couldn’t breathe. I just got so scared.”

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” I say, holding her.

“Was I a good person, Alex?” She’s emotional and terrified. She’s looking face-to-face at her mortality and it’s breaking my heart.

“Yes, Dani. You are a good person. You have always been a good person. You are beautiful and aware and in tune with people. You’re compassionate and empathetic. You’ve shown me and the boys how to love. You’ve made loving people a priority and it shows. I have always felt loved by you. And I have always been entertained by you in the best possible way. Your shows might be a career legacy, but I think the real legacy is how people have learned how to care and love from you.”

She nods. “Thank you for saying that, Alex.”

“It’s all true.”

“You’re the most loyal, reliable, solid person and best friend. You are so good through and through, and the one thing that is giving me any solace right now is knowing that the boys have you when I’m gone. Don’t let them date dumb girls.”

I laugh. “Dani… ”

“You know what I mean,” she says. “I just feel like it’s so close and I’m scared that I won’t get to tell the boys everything I want to tell them.”

“You need to start using the computer speech program, Dani, and they’re going to have to do the tracheotomy soon.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t want it. I want to die before that.”

I step away from her bed and just look at her. There is no mercy in this, in making her suffer this way. She’s serious and pleading, and I understand it completely. Dani would understand this if it were someone else.

“I knew it!” I hear Noah yell from the bottom of the stairs, where he must have been eavesdropping. “She wants to leave us. She’s not even trying anymore.”

He runs up the stairs and I can hear him telling Ethan something. Dani looks to me. “Call them down here, please.”

“Dani, you are so tired. You don’t need to do this right now. I will talk to them.”

“Please.” She starts to cry. “Bring me my boys.” It’s been a few weeks since she’s been this emotional. She told me it was getting harder and harder for her to show what she’s feeling and thinking inside.

“Noah, Ethan!” I yell. “Get down here!”

They come into the living room with their arms crossed over their chests. They’re still in denial. There’s no way to tell them how much longer Dani will have, but I don’t think it’s long now. We can all tell how quickly it’s progressing. One of the doctors told me six months would be pushing it.

“Boys, listen to me. Come here, lie with me,” Dani says to them in her slurred speech.

Noah and Ethan look at each other and then up to me. “Lie down with your mom, guys,” I say. They both do, but it’s begrudgingly, and obvious they’re hurting inside. They’re upset. Of course, they have every right to be.

As well as Dani can, she pulls them close to her sides. I sit down in a chair next to the bed and all four of us are crying. There is nothing we can do. No one can change what’s going to happen and this is the first time all of us are acknowledging it together and accepting it.

After a few minutes Dani collects herself and says, “While I can, I need to talk to you both.”

“Go ahead, Mom,” Ethan says.

“I don’t want either one of you or your dad to be sad for me. I have lived a full life. Think about it. I’ve gotten to live so many lives through the stories I’ve written. My own life was so full and rich too. I’ve traveled, I’ve experienced love and loss. I’ve had the privilege of being a mom to you two. I’m okay with how this story is ending. I need you to be okay with it too.”

Ethan and Noah nod as tears pour from their eyes.

“You will learn everything you need to know about being a good man from your dad, I promise. I thought about making you a list of things I think are important in life. I thought long and hard about it and realized you both have everything you need already. Life is unexpected. There are no perfect rules, no instructions, no manuals I can give you. But there is one thing I know for sure, with absolute certainty…just one thing that is inarguably, without a doubt, going to make your life better, and you need to know what it is and you need to remember it every single day,” she cried.

“What, Mom?” Noah says.

“I know for sure that loving your people well will make your life better, but you have to practice it every day. It’s a skill to refine…a craft to perfect. Love yourself, love your friends, love your family, love each other, love hard, fight hard to love, love your enemies, love all the great loves in your life and love them well, and you will be the richest men on this planet. Love is not selfish or perfect. You can love this experience of losing your mother and be grateful you get to say goodbye when so many people don’t. Be the memory keepers for me from here on out. Okay, it’s your turn. I love you so much.”

Noah, Ethan, and I cannot even speak because we are crying so hard. This is her final goodbye. Our shirts are all drenched with tears, Ethan looks like he can’t breathe, and Noah is sobbing loudly.

—

I don’t know how much time has gone by, but we are all now quiet and depleted. The boys are asleep on Dani’s shoulders. She’s asleep too. I wake Noah and Ethan, walk them each up to their beds, and kiss them good night.

When I come back down, Dani is awake. “Come here, Alex.”

“I’m here.” I sit in the chair next to her bed. I lean my chin on the rail and hold her hand and just stare at her. She smiles and I smile back. “I love you,” I say.

“I love you too, Alex. Tomorrow, will you start playing the albums for me, and read all the memories?”

“Of course I will,” I say, and then I kiss her hand. I lower the rail, close my eyes, and lay my head on her bed.

“Alex?”

“What is it, my love?”

“We made it,” she whispers.

I look up at her. She’s smiling as best as she can.

“Yes, Dani, we did.”