Julia had begun the process of organizing David’s medical paperwork with her usual energetic efficiency. She registered him on websites that linked him to support groups and to stories of survivorship. She had gone to an office supply store and bought a two-drawer steel file cabinet, color-coded file folders, labels, and three-hole punch. She bought printer paper and ink. She was ready to be his medical manager because she could already see that the O’Farrells couldn’t handle him. David was extremely stubborn and independent, and he wasn’t going to listen to his parents’ advice, even for his own good. Now that she had the upper hand in their relationship, she knew that she could use that power to help him help himself. David’s first appointment with the renowned neurosurgeon was just three days away and yet none of them had the energy or courage to prepare, probably because the news only got scarier and scarier. When a huge problem loomed before her, normally Julia would begin to break it down by focusing on small tasks in order to move forward. But the enterprise of cancer management was a mountain of intimidating and overwhelming proportions. There were huge stacks of brochures yet unread. It was vital that David and his parents research and familiarize themselves with glioblastoma multiforme, specifically, which had a very unique set of properties, treatment, and prognosis. But once Julia set up the infrastructure to managing David’s care, they found that they could do nothing but ignore the stacks of paper. They all needed, to their very core, to pretend that everything was completely normal, if only for few more days.
Julia had promised to take time off from work around the time of David’s surgery and recovery (Dr. Levine estimated that David would be hospitalized anywhere from seven to fourteen days). Julia knew she had to pace herself, so she began a manageable routine: she drove to the O’Farrells’ twice a week after work and came by on Sunday afternoons. Marcia O’Farrell scheduled other visitors on the days that Julia wasn’t around, so David would have a continuous flow of people around, although he soon began to complain that it was too taxing. “I’ve always been a loner, why would I want people hanging around jabbering at me now? Listening to small talk hurts my head. I have a brain tumor, not breast cancer.” Julia and Marcia had just looked at each other and rolled their eyes. But it was true. The attention was jarring to him.
Julia asked, despite knowing the answer, what she might do to make him feel better. “I guess yoga and green tea are out of the question?” she teased. David answered: “I need a walk in the woods and some hot chocolate.”
She shivered at the thought. It was early February, and the temperature outside was just above thirty. But his wish was her command, and so, without another word, she went into the kitchen, melted a chocolate bar in a pan of milk, and poured it into a thermos. She put two foldable plastic recliners and a blanket into the back of her car. They couldn’t go tromping up to Sleeping Giant; he was, after all, still recovering from the biopsy. The compromise destination was a popular Christmas tree farm in Shelton, owned by an old friend of his. They set the lawn chairs up at the top of a hill, at the center of a neat grid of blue spruces. They were able to build a campfire in a pit that was set up for shoppers during the Christmas tree season. Even though it was cold, the sun was bright and cheerful. They stared out to the misty, pine-covered hills and into the warm heart of the campfire. They glimpsed a few deer as they sipped their hot chocolate out of robin-egg speckled tin cups. The wind stirred a little bit and David began to talk about the great blight of Christmas pines many years ago. Julia read the newspaper to him aloud. They let themselves be transported by the local politics, the war in Iraq, by the rising fuel prices, the fall in the stock market. They argued with the vigor of people trying to avoid talking about something else. Julia told him about the little girl who imitated her at school, and the boys whose Little League team had made it to the national championships. The fire was mesmerizing and warm and they dozed off a bit. The cancer too, dozed off. There were just the trees and the clear blue sky and the fire and the sweet taste of chocolate in their mouths.
David actually fell asleep. When he woke up, his eyes had a new light behind them. The depression she’d seen in his face earlier was gone. He scooted over in his foldable chair. He opened up his blanket, creating a narrow space next to him. She just stared at the spot.
“I won’t try anything,” he said. “C’mon. You look cold.”
She hopped in, curling up against his warmth. Although she let him lock an arm over her shoulder, she remained guarded and hyper-aware of his every movement. David cleared his throat and said, “Thank you. For bringing me here.” He pushed away a strand of hair that was blowing across her face.
“I want to do so many things, see so many places,” David said. “Now I have an excuse.”
“Focus on your treatment,” Julia said. “Now’s not the time to go wandering the jungles of Africa, if that’s what you mean.”
“I mean after. Like once I’m done with surgery, chemo, radiation, and all that business. I have lots of adventures planned.”
She smiled. “Adventures? Like?”
He told her what he had experienced on Sleeping Giant Mountain, about the remembered woman, how his dad had set out to prove that they were fragments of recall, not hallucinations. “It’s an invitation, Julia.”
“An invitation to what?” She sat up. “David O’Farrell,” her voice trailed off and she opened her eyes wide in an exaggerated look of amazement. “Are you going to start believing in God?”
He gave her a weary look. “Believe me, faith would be a lovely thing right now. But you can’t start believing in the tooth fairy just because you lost a tooth. Too convenient. I can’t trick myself like that. But I know for sure that cancer isn’t intelligent, it’s a thing, just a kind of flesh rot. So who is controlling the outflow of information from my subconscious, then, if it’s not the cancer? It’s not my consciousness; I didn’t will it. And Julia, nobody has access to such vivid memories of their infancy. Nobody. Even people like you who know their full history, who have tons of photos and movie footage and people to tell you stories about yourself. You can’t really remember much before what, age three? I’m being summoned by the source of that control.”
She shook her head. “And who would that be?”
“I don’t know. I’ve always thought of it as nature with a capital ‘N.’ ” His eyes opened wide and they seemed to sparkle all of a sudden. “It’s like catching the glimpse of a creature in the woods. You hear a rustling. The sound of hooves, or maybe antlers being rubbed against a tree. You freeze and wait. It’s usually only a few seconds, but it feels like forever. And then suddenly, some low branches tremble and part and there it is! It’s magnificent . . . an animal with wild eyes that stare back, and well . . . it’s an honor.” Julia laughed out loud because his idea of a spiritual encounter involved a beast with horns, sharp claws, and a hide full of ticks; a beast that could rip you to shreds for coming too close.
“I mean it, Julia, it’s the closest I’ve come to believing. I swear it’s a glimpse of something holy. And you know what? For some reason, the experience is even more powerful and spiritual if you’re alone.” His eyes glassed over with the memory of past encounters in the wild.
Julia maintained a more traditional view of God, but she understood what he meant. She had once sailed a boat, alone, cutting across a turquoise sea in the company of a flock of jumping dolphins. She had experienced the quick elation—her heart had swollen with amazement, and then grown solemn and weightless. David was right; you have to be silent in order to hear the footsteps of the mysterious walking across the surface of your soul.
Later that night, she thought about the idea of an invitation—that David’s brain had burped out this little hint about his past. How David chose to react to that was a complete surprise. His declaration that he suspected intention behind the revelation of his baby name was profoundly out of character.