So Long, Chester Wheeler(65)

“I don’t really know what to do.”

“He’s in the Winnebago?”

“Right.”

“Well, I’m not much of an expert on it, either. Or maybe I’d have an idea if this hadn’t just happened, and I wasn’t feeling . . . But I think if I were you, I’d go straight to a hospital. Maybe go right in the emergency entrance? And just . . . tell them what happened. They should know what to do, right? I mean, people die at hospitals, so they have morgues at hospitals. Right?”

“I guess,” I said. “I’ve never really had to think about it before.”

There was a bright moon hanging over the mountains, to the east. Several days past full, but big. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and I could just barely make out the white glow of the snowcapped peaks. They really did seem to glow, as if they owned their own light source. It was beautiful and kind of spooky at the same time.

I’ll never forget that. I can still see it when I close my eyes.

“As soon as you get there with him, call me. Tell me where you are so I can call them. Or give them my number and have them call me. I’ll take care of all the details and everything. I’ll get the body cremated and then shipped home.”

“To you? Where do you live?”

“No, not here. My daughter and I live in Akron, but he wants his ashes buried in Buffalo. He has a plot next to Grandma and Grandpa. Are you okay? That must’ve been upsetting for you.”

“Honestly? I’m not sure how I feel. I think it hasn’t hit me yet.”

“Where are you?”

“Colorado. Somewhere west of Denver.”

“Can you handle driving home by yourself? Because if you wanted, you could take that monstrosity to a used car lot and dump it and use the money to fly home. I wouldn’t care.”

But Chester wouldn’t like that, I thought.

“I’ll drive it back. I don’t mind.”

“I’m going to tell you something now, Lewis, something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while, and it might not be something you want to hear. You might want to reject it. But please just listen.”

I squeezed my eyes closed, causing the faint mountains to disappear. I braced, thinking she was going to say something hurtful.

“You’re good at this,” she said. “I know you probably don’t want that to be true, but it is. You’re good at taking care of difficult people. It’s like a talent, and most people don’t have it. It was a real blessing to this family, and I’m sure there are other families out there who would be grateful for it. It’s just something to think about.”

I opened my eyes. I had to let them adjust again before I could see the Rockies.

“Most families would want a certified aide.”

“So? Get certified.”

“I wouldn’t even know how to do that.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard to find out.”

I shook the whole thing off again, because she’d been right. I wanted to reject it. It was something I didn’t want to hear.

“I have to go now,” I said. “I have to find a hospital. You’ll hear more soon. Sorry about your dad.”

She seemed surprised by that last part. She seemed to fumble for a reply.

“I didn’t know him very well,” she said. “You might have known him better than I did.”

I could hear the subtext in those sentences. She was telling me, in the most polite way possible, that she had no feelings about it. Or very few, anyway.

It wasn’t my place to tell her to have feelings about it. Just like it wasn’t her place to tell me not to.

Maybe it would catch up with her later, and she’d be surprised.

Maybe we both would.

“I have to go now,” I said again.

“Thank you for everything, Lewis. I’ll mail you a check. You really pulled my chestnuts out of the fire. You did my whole family a real service.”

All I said was “Bye.”

Then I began the long hike down the hill in the moonlight, to do something I’d never in my life imagined having to do.



I had to drive him all the way into Denver.

I instinctively wanted to rush. I’m sure I don’t have to explain why. At least, I hope I don’t. But I forced myself to drive the speed limit because I was afraid of being pulled over.

Can you even imagine? The state police pull a guy over for speeding and he has a dead body in the Winnebago with him? I mean, I’m sure it’s happened. But I didn’t want it to happen to me. I set the cruise control and took it slow. It took about an hour. A very uncomfortable hour.

There were details to this morning of my life. Lots of details. Lots of conversations. Lots of red tape. All uncomfortable. All dull, I’m sure, to anyone who hadn’t been there. I doubt it would be worthwhile to relate every single minute of it, even if I thought I could remember it all.

I’ll touch on a few important points.

I parked fairly close to the emergency entrance, walked inside, and two guys in scrubs agreed to come get him out of the rig. I thought I’d made it abundantly clear that he was actually dead already, but it all happened very fast. Looking back, they might have been initially unclear on the point, though I imagine they figured it out soon enough.