So Long, Chester Wheeler(67)

“Do you know how to find your way out?”

“Not even close.”

We rose, and she walked with me to her office door, where she pointed to thin lines of walking paths on the hall floor that seemed to have been made with colored tape.

“The blue line will take you back to reception.”

“I’m parked near emergency.”

“Ask at the front desk. They’ll direct you.”

I started to walk away, but I stopped when she spoke again.

“Just one question,” she said. “And I’m not asking this in any official capacity. I hope you’ll excuse my curiosity. What were you and he doing seven states away from home?”

I remember thinking that was some pretty good math for someone not even looking at a map. If she was counting correctly, that is. I figured I’d probably check her on it when I was off on my own.

“He had a couple of things he wanted to do before he died.”

“And did he get to do them?”

“Yeah. He actually did.”

“Well, good for you, then.”

She retreated into her office, and I followed the blue line toward the people who could direct me back to the place I’d parked, and that was the end of my hospital experience.

And yes, that really was the short version.



When I stepped outside, the morning was cool and clear. I could see the tall buildings of downtown Denver in the distance, backed by snowy mountains. I could feel the altitude in my lungs.

Just outside the main lobby there was a circle set into the driveway that had been planted with grass and sturdy decorative vegetation, with a bench right in the middle of it.

I sat down on the bench, suddenly not ready to drive away. Which was funny, because I’d wanted nothing more for hours.

I sat there, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, staring at those mountains. I could feel the sun warming the back of my neck.

I was wondering if Chester was going to have any kind of memorial.

I figured probably not. Clearly his sons wanted nothing to do with him. Ellie was a new grandmother, and not wanting to travel. And who else was there? Obviously no one, or I wouldn’t have been roped into taking over his care.

It felt like the best possible advertisement for kindness. Treat people well, otherwise you might die and no one will notice or find it especially relevant to their life.

I decided to give him a tiny send-off, right there on the bench. It seemed only right.

I wasn’t a religious guy, though I did think there was something going on in the universe that was bigger than us mere mortals. So I addressed the universe in general. Out loud.

“Hey, universe, we just sent you Chester Wheeler,” I said. “Those of us down here on this little blue speck of Earth just turned him over. I’m guessing almost every single person on the planet would probably say, ‘Good riddance. You can have him.’ I might be the only person bothering to mark the occasion at all.”

Then I stopped and tried to decide if that was enough. It didn’t feel like it.

“He wasn’t the best person who ever lived. He wasn’t even in the top fifty percent. Hell, he probably wasn’t even in the top eighty-five percent.”

This is going badly, I thought. Bring it home.

“He wasn’t a great person. But he was a person.”

It felt sad to think that was the best I could come up with.

“He was a difficult guy, but I don’t think he started out to be. I don’t think he meant to be. It probably wasn’t what he had in mind. I guess he just got kicked and pounded into that condition.”

I sighed, feeling I had done poorly. But, honestly, that was my best. Maybe I should have added that he had apologized to me. But the moment seemed to be gone.



After I got back into the Winnebago but before I drove away, I leaned back against the driver’s door. With my head tipped back against the window glass and my eyes closed, I called Sue.

“Hey, Lewis,” she said when she picked up. “You home already?”

“No. I’m in Denver.”

“So you did take him to see Mike.”

“Yeah. We did that.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Which he?”

“I meant Chester.”

“He died.”

“That’s weird,” she said after a breath’s worth of pause.

“In what way?”

“It’s weird the way you totally know something’s going to happen, but then when it does, you feel like it was unexpected. Like you really didn’t think it would happen.”

“I know,” I said. “I think that’s weird, too.”

She didn’t say anything for a long time, and neither did I.

“What did you see in him?” she asked after that very long silence.

“I’m not sure I understand the question.”

“I know you said you took the job because you needed the money. But you offered to drive him across the whole damn country. And you would’ve gotten paid either way. You must’ve had some indication that there was something good in there somewhere.”

While I wasn’t answering, I had a flash of a memory. Standing alone in the dark on the top of that hill, overlooking the rest stop where Chester had died. Talking to Ellie on my cell phone. She’d said something. Not even to me. But it had reminded me of another something . . . Oh, I’m sorry. I’m being vague, I know. My mind was frazzled. She’d said to someone in the room, “It’s okay, honey. Go back to sleep.” At the time I hadn’t bothered to explore why that sentence felt so familiar. There had been too much else going on.