“Ain’t no thang,” I say.

  She smiles sadly and pats my knee. Without unbuckling, she leans in for an awkward embrace. I breathe deeply of her, fill my lungs greedily with the scent of her. I could hold her forever, long enough for her stiff body to slacken, to melt into mine. Even with my screwy neck, I could hold her forever. But Janet doesn’t have that kind of time.

  “Good-bye, Ben,” she says, easing away from me. “Take care of yourself.”

  “I’m gonna be okay,” I say. “Don’t worry about me.”

  Buoyed somewhat by the suspicion that I actually might be okay, that like Janet, I might find a new context for myself, I duck out of the car and take a deep breath of the cold wet air. The daylight has faded completely now. The lights of the stores look almost inviting.

  “I still think that Sunderland guy is a putz,” I say, and close the door.

  Janet smiles apologetically through the glass.

  I’m smiling, too, as I cover the eight spaces in long, brisk strides and hop back into the van. I find Trev with his chair angled back slightly, working clumsily away at his tiny keypad in the dark.

  “Sorry about the wait, bro.”

  “No worries,” he says, without looking up. “How’d it go?”

  “Not bad.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  “Close enough.”

  Janet is inspecting the papers beneath the dome light. It kills me to know her heart is beating fast. But I’m also glad for her. I wing a wide one eighty and angle across the lot toward the access road, looking everywhere but behind me. It’s troubling how big and dead this place is. Suddenly, I want to run from it. I hang a right at the exit and barely beat the signal.

  I ease the van onto the interstate headed north, listening to the thrum of the wipers and the swish of the tires, knowing with every molecule of my being that I love Janet, that I still want to be with her, that in spite of everything, I still want to make it work. Because I still care deeply—about Janet, about my kids, about Forest and Trev and Elsa and Bob and Dot and Peaches and Little Elton and even about Big Elton. I’ll never stop caring. But the thing about caring is, it’s inconvenient. Sometimes you’ve got to give when it makes no sense at all. Sometimes you’ve got to give until it hurts. It’s not easy, and it can be downright thankless, but if you can do it, and you don’t mind working for squat, they’re still offering classes at the Abundant Life Foursquare Church right behind the Howard Johnson in Bremerton. Tell them Ben sent you.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I’M GRATEFULLY INDEBTED to so many wonderful people for their help on this novel that I’m sure to forget somebody, and for this, I apologize in advance. Let it be a testament to the extent of my indebtedness.

  A million thanks to my friend Case Levenson, for being such a huge inspiration and hilarious companion. I’m ever-so-grateful to my wife, Lauren, for all her support and encouragement, and for lighting up my world with her smile. For sharing their expertise in their respective fields, I thank Dave Coatsworth and Dale Duffy. For their early readings and amazing editorial insigts, I thank Michael Meachen, Shelby Rogers, Dennis O’Reilly, Keith Dixon, Brock Dubbles, Mike Tassone, and Mark Krieger. For their unending support, Beth Branco and Carmela D’Amico. For their amazing advocacy in the field, Kurtis Q. Lowe, Phoebe “Gassy” Gaston, Matt “Don’t Call Me Jake Gyllenhaal” Wickiser, John Majeska, and Frazer Dobson.

  To my amazing friend and agent, Mollie Glick, and her stalwart assistant, Kathleen Hamblin. Also, Stephanie Abou and Hannah Gordon Brown for all their hustle. To my Internet associates and partners in crime, Dennis Haritou, Jason Rice, Jason Chambers, and Brad Listi. Also, Richard Nash for always being in my corner.

  To my whole family and my wife’s whole family, for their love and encouragement. You don’t choose your family, but I’d choose all of you if I could.

  To my incredible friends—you know who you are. I’m blessed to have you. My door is always open.

  To indie booksellers everywhere for their part in bringing my stories to the world.

  At Algonquin, the greatest publisher any writer could ever hope for, I thank Craig Popelars, Kelly Bowen, Michael Taeckens, Sarah Rose Nordgren, Michael Rockliff, Katie Ford, Jude Grant, Brunson Hoole, Steven Pace, Elisabeth Scharlatt, Peter Workman, Ina Stern, Lauren Moseley, and everybody top to bottom at Workman and Algonquin. Unlike my family, I did choose you, and you were among the best choices I ever made.

  And finally, a million thanks to my dear editor, Chuck Adams. Yo, pops, thanks for being my champion and advocate, and somebody to look up to.

  Published by

  Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill

  Post Office Box 2225

  Chapel Hill, North Carolina 27515-2225

  a division of

  Workman Publishing

  225 Varick Street

  New York, New York 10014

  © 2012 by Jonathan Evison.

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. While, as in all fiction, the literary perceptions and insights are based on experience, all names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Table of Contents

  Also by

  Title

  Dedication

  hooked on mnemonics

  the pro

  o-fer

  the long way home

  adventures in cartography

  any other day

  crossing the line

  the whistle stop

  profiles

  pins and needles

  bernard and ruth

  technicalities

  the horse

  poetry

  guess who’s coming to dinner

  when does now begin?

  battle of the blur

  stations

  three feathers

  this is not a funeral

  the trouble with bob

  flight

  no time

  look at us now

  monday, monday

  green beans

  postcards from the hinterlands

  desperate measures

  accidents

  mr. goodbar

  manning up

  meet the replacement

  liftoff

  east of the mountains

  george, washington

  skylark

  fingers

  take no chances

  here and abroad

  dot

  terrible things to say

  the story with dot

  the dealership

  almost home

  the box

  grand canyon

  the story with peaches

  and many more

  before agatewood

  a year and a day

  the calm

  confusion

  the daze

  the long haul

  ghost town

  the edge

  promise

  nothing

  old faithful

  you don’t understand

  something else entirely

  volumes

  out of the frying pan

  boxes

  west yellowstone redux

  another long haul

  the hide-a-bed incident

  the biggest pit in the world

  the longest haul yet

  a king

  close enough

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright

 


 

  Jonathan Evison, The Revised Fundamentals of Caregiving

 


 

 
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