Los Angeles
Columbus Day Weekend
People make bargains when they’re dying.
“We try to measure the cost of our lives,” was how Dr. Annie explained it. “Then we try to offer some pledge in payment, thinking we can buy them back.”
Dillon had made a ton of bargains. If you save me, heavenly Father, think of what I’ll do for You.
I’ll be good.
I’ll do good.
I’ll go on missions to leper hospitals.
I’ll become a leper by dating the girl in school who smells like mothballs and looks like a hairball.
None of it was necessary because Dillon’s life had already been paid for. When he was so sick it hurt to breathe, when the toxins overflowed into his blood, when his abdomen felt like it would explode, Jesus was the promise who—one way or another—would get him home.
When he could think straight again, when his skin was pink instead of yellow, and when the only pain in his gut was from the staples sealing in his new liver, he made one last deal.
I will live—not pretend, not hide, not doubt, not be scared—I will really live.
Unfortunately, his parents took a dim view of really living and refused to buy him a motorcycle. But coming to Los Angeles—all by himself—was a big step in their independence from hospitals and procedures and making their own bargains.
And how cool was Hollywood? Okay, the tourist stuff was tacky in a cheap T-shirt kind of way, but when Luke took him on a shoot—cool beyond cool. Dillon and Jack had recovered two months before Luke. All that rehab. Sometimes Luke would Skype with Dillon during his therapy. Giving you material for your next movie, Luke said.
Luke wanted company. Not that he or Dillon would admit it. With Destiny back at work, Luke found it easier to huff and puff and fall down and get up with someone else with him. Dillon knew what it was like to shuffle through sickness. Not cool, not one bit.
Destiny had made a bargain too. Save Luke, and I’ll give You a try, she promised. He did, so she did, and Dillon went to church with them yesterday and rocked it out something wicked. That was Dez’s term—a phrase she’d picked up from her Boston birth-father.
This family thing was good, but a little complicated.
Dillon had gone from being an only child to part of an extended family you needed frequent-flyer miles to keep up with. Two sisters. One brother-in-law, blood brother now because they shared a liver. A soon-to-be brother-in-law who had to be the coolest dude on the left side of the Mississippi. Three somewhat-brothers from Chloe’s side, that she was working up her courage to meet. Three kind-of sisters from Destiny’s side.
This was nothing any of them bargained for. Good thing everyone was cool with it.
A motorcycle would make his joy complete. When you’re eighteen, Luke had said, we’ll ride up the coast.
Over my dead body, Mom had said, then sputtered an apology when she realized she was talking to two guys who had come back from their own dead bodies. It was all pretty comical and pretty amazing when you thought about it.
It’d been a good couple of days. Making aliens with Destiny on Hollywood’s next blockbuster was so amazing, Dillon was nearly breathless. Watching Luke do the motorcycle routine on his shoot made Dillon’s knees weak. What if he falls again? Except that was the point of the stunt and Luke crashed, burned, and ate a hamburger and salad from the food truck like it was just another day at the office.
This afternoon was beach time. Dez and Luke had something planned because Dillon was supposed to bring his handheld camera and his laptop with satellite hookup. Now that he was healthy, his parents buying him expensive equipment would probably stop. In another year or so, he’d get a part-time job and buy his own editing software.
Or maybe a motorcycle.
So this trip to the beach—maybe Luke would give him a surfing lesson and maybe stream it to Dallas? That was probably it. Dez would love to see him flop for a good laugh. He’d show them and use it in his next film. Samson in the Surf had a nice ring to it.
Dillon set the laptop on a blanket about ten feet from the water. The surf was mild here, barely a curl. Probably Dad had scared Luke into taking it easy. Shouldn’t he have a wet suit or something? It was October, after all. Seventy degrees, but Dillon was just starting to put on weight, so it was hard to keep warm.
Luke and Destiny stood ankle deep in the water. Arms around each other’s waist, they stared silently over the Pacific.
“I’m set up,” Dillon said.
Luke grinned, joined him on the sand. “Link us up to Dallas, Tennessee, and North Carolina. Use that link I e-mailed you this morning.”
Dillon clicked, brought up icons for the three streams. “What’s this about?” Dad asked once he was connected.
“No clue,” Dillon said.
Chloe and Jack popped up. “Hey, bro,” Jack said. Chloe looked completely relaxed, not the sister Dillon knew those first couple of weeks as Jack recovered from the transplant. She had done the unthinkable—backtracked in college to be what she called a super-freshman in Duke’s engineering program. Only Dad could understand what Jack studied in grad school—they were tight and could chat for hours.
While Dillon was still in the hospital, Dad and Jack had a lot of hush-hush conversations. Mom said they hired a forensic computer investigator to track back to some dude who apparently stole something from Chloe. With Dad’s help, Jack set an online trap and caught the thief red-handed as he tried to drain from a Deschene charity account. The arrest resulted in the seizure of the guy’s equipment and files.
“What did he take?” Dillon had asked his mother.
“Chloe will explain someday. Not today.”
Usually Dillon hated answers like that. Something about Mom’s face told him to let it go. If Chloe wanted to tell him someday, fine. Otherwise, things were cool just like they were.
Destiny’s parents appeared on the third screen, with her sister Sophie. He had met Mrs. Connors once, when they had all visited Luke at Easter.
“Hey,” Sophie said.
“Yeah,” Dillon said, wishing his voice would get through the squeaking phase.
“Online,” Dillon said.
Luke waved to someone down the beach. The pastor of their church? He was a cool enough guy but didn’t seem like a surfer. He trotted toward them.
“Okay, Dil,” Luke said. “You film us.”
Dillon pressed all the right buttons and the camera went live on the stream. “Testing,” he said, waiting for a wave from each location. “Go,” he told Luke. “We’re live.”
He pointed the camera at Luke, the shot following him and the pastor into the water, and then thought, What a dope I am. Should have seen this coming.
The pastor pressed one hand to Luke’s chest and one to his back, and even though Luke towered over him, the man easily laid him back into the water. Luke came up sputtering and smiling.
He turned to Destiny. She grinned as Luke guided her into the water and the pastor said those cool words about being baptized in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
She came up, dripping and whooping, arms above her head. Dillon heard applause and happy sounds from his laptop—the families who had stood witness.
The motorcycle can wait a few years.
This was really living.