So Long, Chester Wheeler(63)

“I’m going to give you a quarter, and I want you to play a slot machine for me.”

“It’s going to be awfully hard to park this boat in one of those lots, though, don’t you think?”

“Some of them have RV parking. Some of them actually have RV parks.”

“Yeah, but which ones?”

“I know the Circus-y one does. It’s one of the places I was going to go. Before I got sick.”

We were sitting at a stoplight anyway, so I keyed the hotel—at least, the one I thought he meant—into the map app and it brought up directions.

Driving through Vegas was crazy. Everything was moving, everywhere you looked. Neon lights flashed and rolled, even by day, and bright, kinetic video scenes flashed by on LED screens. I wondered why traffic didn’t constantly pile up while drivers took in all the distractions.

Then, while we were waiting for that forever-stoplight to turn, three drivers got tired of waiting and just drove right through the red.

I glanced over at Chester, wondering if I dared say it.

“The drivers here are crazy.”

“Yeah,” he said. “This time I agree with you.”



I hooked up the Winnie to power in the RV park by the hotel, so the air conditioning could run while I was gone. You know. Without wasting gas.

“You sure you don’t want food?”

“Not really. Not yet. You could bring back a sandwich and put it in the fridge. I might want it later. Or not. Just if you pass something. I don’t really care.”

It wasn’t like Chester to be lackadaisical about food, but I didn’t bring it up. He’d said his digestion was off. Why push?

He handed me the quarter.

I stepped out and walked across the parking lot through a hot Nevada day.

When I stepped into the hotel casino, I was overcome with light and noise—flashing neon and video arcade–type sounds. The place had no windows, so you couldn’t tell if it was day or night outside, and it smelled like cigarettes, booze, and unwashed humanity.

I didn’t bother to seek out any food. We had food in the Winnebago. I could make Chester a sandwich later. I wanted to get out of there. I wanted to get back on the road and get home.

I stopped at the first row of slots. They almost blinded me with their blazing, rolling, flashing lights. It was nearly enough to induce a seizure, if I’d been prone to them.

I dropped in Chester’s quarter and pulled the handle, then watched the symbols roll into place. Seven. Seven. Lemon.

So, that was that. The quarter was gone, and it had gone for nothing. But that’s gambling for you.

I was about to walk out again, but then I saw a change machine between me and the door. I pulled my wallet out of my pocket. Took out a twenty. Part of my precious rent money. But it didn’t really matter. When I got home, Ellie would pay me, and I would still make rent.

I put the bill into the machine and it spit out quarters. Eighty quarters. I collected them in one of the little paper buckets they provided, with ads for their steak house on it.

I carried the change back out into the baking heat and walked back to the Winnie. I unhooked the power, stowed the cable, and let myself in through the driver’s door.

“What’s that?” Chester asked, trying to peer inside the paper bucket.

I handed it to him.

“I won?”

“Everything you see in the cup,” I said. “It’s not a ton. But it’s a win.”

“I can’t believe I won.”

“Well, it’s right there in front of your eyes,” I said.

“I needed a win.”

“I know you did. Now let’s get ourselves home.”



We were in Utah before we really talked again.

“I like Utah,” he said. “It has hills and mountains. It’s not flat. I hate flat.”

“Well, you’re in the right place, then.”

“Does this highway go over the Rocky Mountains?”

“Yes and no. We do, but it doesn’t. The 15 goes north into Idaho and Montana. When we get a little deeper into Utah, we fork off onto the 70, and that goes through Colorado. And then there will definitely be Rockies, yes.”

“Good,” he said. “I’ve always wanted to see the Rockies. Don’t let me sleep through them, okay?”

He had been holding that little paper change bucket in his lap for many miles. He stashed it in the map pocket of the passenger door. Then he put his seat back and closed his eyes.

“Still can’t believe I won,” he said. “I never win.”

“Now you don’t get to say that anymore.”

“Oh, right. I guess that’s true.”

He was snoring and drooling within minutes.



Ellie called at around one o’clock. I put her on speakerphone so I could just keep driving.

“So I did call his doctor,” she said, “but he hasn’t called me back yet. He usually calls at the end of the day, and by then the pharmacies will mostly be closed. Unless you could find an all-night one. Anyway. If my dad asks for a little more, give him a little more. We’ll sort it out before you run out of them. I’ll take responsibility for the dose change.”

“Define ‘a little more.’”