How Evan Broke His Head and Other Secrets by Garth Stein Read Free Book Online Page B

morning.
    Ring , ring , ring , goes the phone. Then the machine in the bedroom picks up and his mother’s voice calls to him. “Evan? Evan? Evan?” Now Evan really feels sick.
    “You gonna get it?” Dean asks. “Some guy named Lars called earlier.”
    Lars? He picks up the phone.
    “Evan? Are you all right?”
    Mom? No, Mom, I’m not. Not really. I’m scared. I just lost an entire day and I have no idea where it went, and there’s this kid here who says he’s my son, and I’m having seizures and I’m really scared. Can you come and hold me?
    “Yeah, Mom, I’m fine.”
    “You were screening?”
    “Yeah, Mom, I was screening. What’s up?”
    “We were worried.”
    Evan feels her worry unload through the phone line. Just hearing his voice is enough to satisfy his mother, who is forever worried about him. As she probably has a right to be. Even though Evan is thirty-one, to his parents he is still a kid with epilepsy. They call him twice a day without fail. If he isn’t home for a few hours and they don’t know where he’s gone, they panic and call the local hospitals. They treat him as if he were still in high school, still living at home.
    Evan used to feel weird about his parents’ concern. Then he got used to it. He even felt at times that if he were suddenly to be rid of his epilepsy and his parents stopped worrying about him all the time, he might actually miss it. It was kind of like a permanent hall pass or diplomatic license plates on your car. Evan was allowed much greater latitude than he would have had if he weren’t afflicted.
    “But you’re okay?”
    “Yeah, Mom, I just was out yesterday. No big deal.”
    “Good. Well, your father wants to know if you’re free for dinner soon. He’s buying.”
    Yeah. Like Evan has ever offered to buy.
    “I’m pretty busy.”
    “We haven’t seen you in a while.”
    “A while” in Louise-speak means about two weeks.
    “Maybe I’ll drop by, ” Evan says, and almost laughs at his own joke. He could drop by with his teenage son and blow his parents’ minds. That would be a good one. He knew he was in their will. Murder by shock. Who would suspect?
    “That would be nice, ” Louise coos. “Oh, Charlie said he was trying to reach you, ” she adds casually.
    “Really? I didn’t get any messages.”
    “He said he’s left a few, but you never call back.”
    “Huh, ” Evan replies, “maybe my machine is broken.”
    “Maybe it is. Could you call him?”
    His little brother Charlie had, in fact, left five messages, each one ignored. Why? Because whenever Charlie called five times in four days, and Louise called to tell Evan that Charlie had called five times in four days, that meant something good had happened to Charlie—possibly something great—and Evan was supposed to jump up and down with joy and say encouraging and enthusiastic things and proclaim his love and unconditional support. And he was supposed to do it without gagging. I passed the bar. I’m getting married. I got a raise. I bought a house. I screwed my wife. My wife is pregnant. It’s a boy. Come on, doesn’t anyone else get tired of it?
    “What is it this time, Mom, they name a street after him?”
    Louise takes Evan’s crack silently for a moment—but only a moment.
    “I don’t understand, Evan, ” she says regretfully.“Why can’t you be happy for Charlie? What did he ever do to you that was so bad?”
    Evan smiles. Now that’s a complicated question. What did Charlie do? How about this: he cried. One soggy evening, many, many years ago, Charlie stood there crying and Evan had to act like an older brother, and because of that Evan’s life was changed forever. That’s what Charlie did that was so bad.
    “I’m happy for him, Mom, ” Evan says. “I really am.”
    “Then why do you seem so sad?”
    Evan glances at Dean, who looks back expectantly, as if he’s waiting to be introduced. Because my son is standing next to me but I’m afraid to tell you about