• • • • •
Standing on the front porch of Geoffrey’s house, I’m about to knock, when I stop and say, “Oh. One thing. Geoffrey is quite . . . large. So there’s that.”
Seth smiles. His camera hangs around his neck, becoming almost like a comfort to see.
I knock and enter, and Seth follows me inside.
Geoffrey is snoring loudly on his green, less-newish love seat. I look at Seth, and his eyes are wide in amazement. I turn back to Geoffrey and clear my throat. That does nothing to wake him, and I always feel awkward about waking people up anyway. So I wonder if we should just come back later. Though, the next thing I know, Seth is racing across the living room and catching Geoffrey’s laptop as it slides off his belly. Geoffrey wakes up with Seth standing next to him, one hand holding his laptop. Geoffrey screams in terror, and Seth looks startled.
I step toward them and say, “It’s just me.”
Geoffrey turns his head and finally looks like he recognizes something in this world of his. He puts his hands down and tries to adjust his massive frame on the couch. It’s a bit of a struggle.
“Scared me half to death.” Geoffrey puts his hand to his heart. “Still beating, so that’s good.” He coughs.
“Sorry for scaring you,” I say. “This is my friend, Seth.”
Seth nods and hands Geoffrey his laptop. “Was just trying to save your computer from falling.”
Geoffrey takes the computer. To be honest, he seems slightly out of it.
“We’re going to walk Tickles,” I say.
Geoffrey nods.
“Tickles!” I shout. His little bell gets louder as he comes from the back bedroom.
Seth’s eyes grow wide again. “Whoa. Is that a fake leg?”
“Oh yeah,” I say. “I forgot to tell you that Tickles had a run-in with a car once. The car won.”
“That leg is awesome,” he says.
“Ready for a walk?” I ask. Tickles jumps up onto my leg, and his tail wags.
“Seems like Tickles is doing pretty good for himself,” says Seth. I kneel to connect the leash to the collar. As I’m petting Tickles, I hear a click and turn to see Seth also kneeling with his camera pointed at me. “Can’t waste a good moment.”
“Uh.” I stand. “I’m not used to having my picture taken.”
“Sometimes I get involved in a shot and forget to ask if it’s okay to take it. Is it okay?”
“You already took it.” If he wants pictures of me, I guess I don’t care. In a way, it is flattering. But kind of frightening, too, like my life is always one random moment away from being on display for the town to mock. Or being captured, possibly forever.
Geoffrey says, “No pictures of me.” He coughs. “My mom would die if she saw me this big.”
“Well, I’d never show her, then.” Seth smiles at Geoffrey.
“Where is your mom?” I ask. “In Whitehall?”
Geoffrey chuckles. “Oh, no. Vermont. Tiny little city. Before you go, have a cookie. Judy made them. I think they’re chocolate chip.” There’s a plate of homemade cookies, with a sizable portion of cookies missing from one side, on the coffee table next to Geoffrey.
“Oh, awesome,” says Seth, smiling. “I love cookies.” As he eats, he asks, “Is Judy your wife?”
I explain to Seth that Judy is the woman who helps Geoffrey with chores and taking a shower and things around the house. She’s also the one who goes to the store for him. Seth nods. “May I?” He grabs another cookie.
As Seth and I make our way down the street, cookies in hand and Tickles in tow—or rather, leading with his little legs, bell ringing—Seth turns to me. “He is huge. Reminds me of this show I watched called My 600 lb. Life. But the irony was that the people on the show didn’t have much of a life until they lost, like, half of themselves in weight. Like, this one girl never got out of bed, all because it hurt her knees to move. How much do you think he weighs? Can he walk, or is he stuck on the couch?”
“Not sure and not sure.” I take a bite of the cookie.
“It stinks really bad in there.”
“I didn’t notice. Maybe I’m used to it? He’s lived there for about five years. He was pretty big when he moved in, but in the past five years he’s probably doubled in size.”
Seth shakes his head. “I’d love to document someone like him.”
“A movie?” I ask.
Seth holds up the camera around his neck.
“That would be cool, but he’d never let you.”
“Seriously, how much do you think he weighs?”
“Probably around six hundred pounds.” It’s a guess, but probably not off by much.
Seth watches Tickles for a minute. “That dog can move. He’s like a little robot dog.”
I smirk. Little robot dog.
We decide to walk Tickles through town and not on the dirt road. With new company, a different route seems to be in order. Tickles doesn’t seem to mind the shake-up in the routine either.
“Want to hold the leash?” I ask.
“Yes!” Seth puts out his hand. “Did I mention that I want a dog? I think I mentioned that.”
“I think you did,” I say with a smirk.
We make it to the corner of the street, and Seth holds Tickles back from darting into traffic. We don’t want Tickles to lose another leg. Bad joke, but it’s true. A loud diesel truck revs by, and a thick black cloud of exhaust consumes us. Tickles shakes from the noise as he hides behind my leg. “We should probably pick him up and cross and go to a less busy street.”
“D-bags,” says Seth. “I hate those trucks that don’t have exhaust filters.”
“They should be illegal.”
“Totally. Like throw-their-ass-in-jail-for-killing-the-planet illegal.”
“Do you want to pick up Tickles? Or want me to?”
Seth quickly takes off his camera. “Can you hold this?”
I’m waiting for him to tell me to protect his camera with my life, or something equally dramatic. And when people say those things, aren’t they basically saying that the object they hand you is worth the same (or more) than your life? And isn’t that stupid? But Seth doesn’t say anything like that. He holds the camera out to me, and I nervously take it and put the strap around my neck, and even hold the camera with one hand. I want to protect it with my life anyway.
Tickles sitting in Seth’s arms is actually pretty cute, and if I knew how to work his complex professional-looking camera, I would take a picture. “How do I take a picture?”
He puts his hand out and touches the button. “Push that button down and twist that little handle thing next to it toward you.” I do. And the camera turns on. “Then just look, aim, and press that same button.”
Snap.
Seth holds a shivering Tickles. “Funny how I don’t get many pictures with myself.” We cross the street. “Then again, I’m the least interesting subject I know.”
Once we reach the other side of the street, Seth puts Tickles down.
“Let’s walk to the park. Just down this street,” I say.
“You’re the boss.”
As we walk, every few seconds Seth clears his throat like he has something caught in it. Tickles seems to have forgotten about the truck and runs ahead of us again. Just happy to move his little legs. Bell still ringing.
Seth rubs his eyes.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
He clears his throat. “Fine.”
By the time we reach the park, everything is no longer fine. Seth looks like his face is going to explode: it’s red and puffy. He is having a hard time breathing and can’t talk. He’s strangling.
I realize I need to get him to the hospital. Fast.
I help him sit down and then look around for someone to help, all the while hearing Seth choke on nothing. I see a person on the far side of the park, and I wave my hands and shout—until I realize I have a phone. Adrenaline makes it hard for me to think sometimes. My fingers shake nervously, and it seems to take forever to find and press three numbers. It’s like I have forgotten how to function.
“Hold on,” I tell him as I grab the leash. “Breathe. Just breathe.”
But he isn’t doing that very well. And his eyes look scared, which makes me worry more. “It’ll be okay,” I tell him. But I’m not sure. Tickles sits down on the sidewalk, unaware that anything bad is happening.
“Nine-one-one emergency. How may I help you?”
The first thing out of my mouth is “I need help!” But isn’t that rather obvious and stupid to say when you’ve called 911? I’m wasting time that I can’t afford to waste.
And Seth’s eyes only grow in fear.