half-amused way.
“Shimpsie? I pick on her because she’s an asshole.” Quillian laughed. “Never heard a woman called an asshole before.”
“Would you prefer asshole-ess?”
“Asshole or not, you’d better at least
try
to get along with her, Taylor.”
“Why should I bother?”
“Because you can’t get out of here without her okay. She has to sign a release before they’ll discharge you. Okay, enough bullshit. Get back to work.”
A week or so later Uncle Harry made another trip to Portland, alone this time. “Good to see you again, Rafe,” he said, shaking Raphael’s hand. He glanced at the crutches leaning in the corner. “I see that you’re getting around now.”
Raphael looked at him through the haze of the shot he had just been given. “What brings you down here, Uncle Harry?”
“Oh …” his uncle replied a bit evasively, “this and that. I thought I’d stop by and see how you were doing.”
“I’m coming along.”
“Good for you. Have they given you any idea yet about when you’ll be getting out of here?”
Raphael shifted in the bed, wincing slightly. “I imagine that it’s going to be a while longer.”
“You going back to school when you get out?”
“I haven’t really thought about it yet.”
Uncle Harry gave him a speculative look. “I’m going to give this to you straight, Rafe. I think we know each other well enough for that.”
“Okay,” Raphael replied, “what is it?”
“It’s your mother, Rafe.”
“Mom?”
“She’s always been a delicate woman, you know, and I’m afraid all of this has been too much for her—your father’s death, your accident, all of it. She’s a little—well—disoriented. Her doctors say
that she’ll come out of it eventually, but it’s going to take time.”
“I’d better go home. I can get around now—a little. I’ll see if they’ll discharge me.”
“Uh—that’s going to be a problem, Rafe. You see, what’s happened is that your mother has—well, sort of retreated. I mean, she’s not catatonic or anything, but it’s just that in her mind none of this has really happened. As far as she’s concerned, your father’s away on a business trip, and you’re off at college. She’s perfectly happy—talks about you both all the time. The doctors think that it might be best to keep her that way for the time being. If you came back with your—on crutches, that is—she’d have to face things she’s just not ready to come to grips with yet.”
“I see.”
“I hate to have to be the one to tell you, but it’s better coming from me than from somebody else. Just give her a little time, that’s all. Write to her from time to time—that sort of thing. I’ll keep you posted on her progress.”
“Thanks for telling me, Uncle Harry.”
“That’s what family is for. If you’re not too tired, there are a couple of other things I need to discuss with you.” “I’m fine,” Raphael told him.
“Okay, Rafe.” Uncle Harry opened his briefcase. “Financially you’re pretty well off.” “Sir?”
“You’ll have a fairly comfortable income. Edgar—your father— had a number of insurance policies. Edgar was always very interested in insurance.”
“He was a careful man.”
“That he was, Rafe. That he was. The policies will cover all your medical expenses here and give you an income besides—not very big, actually. Walking-around money is about all. You’ll also be receiving Social Security disability benefits.”
“I’ve never had a job, Uncle Harry—not a real one. I’m not eligible for Social Security.”
“You worked for four summers at the mill back in Port Angeles.”
“That wasn’t a real job, Uncle Harry. The owner hired me because of my father—and because I was a football player.”
“They withheld Social Security from your check, didn’t they?” “Yes.”
“Then you’re entitled. Don’t rush out and make any down payments on any castles, though. What’s really got
“Shimpsie? I pick on her because she’s an asshole.” Quillian laughed. “Never heard a woman called an asshole before.”
“Would you prefer asshole-ess?”
“Asshole or not, you’d better at least
try
to get along with her, Taylor.”
“Why should I bother?”
“Because you can’t get out of here without her okay. She has to sign a release before they’ll discharge you. Okay, enough bullshit. Get back to work.”
A week or so later Uncle Harry made another trip to Portland, alone this time. “Good to see you again, Rafe,” he said, shaking Raphael’s hand. He glanced at the crutches leaning in the corner. “I see that you’re getting around now.”
Raphael looked at him through the haze of the shot he had just been given. “What brings you down here, Uncle Harry?”
“Oh …” his uncle replied a bit evasively, “this and that. I thought I’d stop by and see how you were doing.”
“I’m coming along.”
“Good for you. Have they given you any idea yet about when you’ll be getting out of here?”
Raphael shifted in the bed, wincing slightly. “I imagine that it’s going to be a while longer.”
“You going back to school when you get out?”
“I haven’t really thought about it yet.”
Uncle Harry gave him a speculative look. “I’m going to give this to you straight, Rafe. I think we know each other well enough for that.”
“Okay,” Raphael replied, “what is it?”
“It’s your mother, Rafe.”
“Mom?”
“She’s always been a delicate woman, you know, and I’m afraid all of this has been too much for her—your father’s death, your accident, all of it. She’s a little—well—disoriented. Her doctors say
that she’ll come out of it eventually, but it’s going to take time.”
“I’d better go home. I can get around now—a little. I’ll see if they’ll discharge me.”
“Uh—that’s going to be a problem, Rafe. You see, what’s happened is that your mother has—well, sort of retreated. I mean, she’s not catatonic or anything, but it’s just that in her mind none of this has really happened. As far as she’s concerned, your father’s away on a business trip, and you’re off at college. She’s perfectly happy—talks about you both all the time. The doctors think that it might be best to keep her that way for the time being. If you came back with your—on crutches, that is—she’d have to face things she’s just not ready to come to grips with yet.”
“I see.”
“I hate to have to be the one to tell you, but it’s better coming from me than from somebody else. Just give her a little time, that’s all. Write to her from time to time—that sort of thing. I’ll keep you posted on her progress.”
“Thanks for telling me, Uncle Harry.”
“That’s what family is for. If you’re not too tired, there are a couple of other things I need to discuss with you.” “I’m fine,” Raphael told him.
“Okay, Rafe.” Uncle Harry opened his briefcase. “Financially you’re pretty well off.” “Sir?”
“You’ll have a fairly comfortable income. Edgar—your father— had a number of insurance policies. Edgar was always very interested in insurance.”
“He was a careful man.”
“That he was, Rafe. That he was. The policies will cover all your medical expenses here and give you an income besides—not very big, actually. Walking-around money is about all. You’ll also be receiving Social Security disability benefits.”
“I’ve never had a job, Uncle Harry—not a real one. I’m not eligible for Social Security.”
“You worked for four summers at the mill back in Port Angeles.”
“That wasn’t a real job, Uncle Harry. The owner hired me because of my father—and because I was a football player.”
“They withheld Social Security from your check, didn’t they?” “Yes.”
“Then you’re entitled. Don’t rush out and make any down payments on any castles, though. What’s really got
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