Read Online Home Is Burning by Dan Marshall - Free Book Online Page A

him. Abby and her mom ran with us. Though he had finished the Boston Marathon a month earlier, my dad was clearly in worse shape. He couldn’t tie his own shoes. His hands were barely working. His breathing was more labored. He couldn’t undo his pants, so I had to help him go to the bathroom. Good thing I already had some experience dealing with his dick. We’d do run/walks, where we’d run about a hundred yards, then walk, then run. Then eventually we just walked.
    The Golden Gate Bridge leg took place at two in the morning. They normally close the bridge down to pedestrians after 9 p.m. (probably to prevent people from tossing themselves off it), so having access to it was unique. I ran alongside my dad, the love of my life and her mom running on the other side, the bay breeze cooling our faces as the city sparkled in the background. I looked over to my panting dad, barely able to stand up but still trying to run.
    â€œYou sure you’re okay to do this?” I asked as we slowed to a walk.
    â€œYeah. God, the city is so beautiful,” he said, not wanting to talk about his struggles. I started to weep as we walked. It was so hard to see him in decline, but I was thankful I got to spend this time with him. I knew this was the last run I’d take with him. I knew that we weren’t going to have many more beautiful moments with each other before it got really bad. I wanted my poor dad to get better, not worse, but was finally starting to realize that that wasn’t how Lou Gehrig’s disease worked.
    After our run, Abby and I went back to her place in Berkeley buzzing from the experience. “Your poor dad,” she said. “I’m so proud of him.”
    â€œI am, too,” I said.
    We fucked and then slept in the next morning.
    *   *   *
    In June, I flew out to Chicago to watch Greg graduate from Northwestern. It was his last taste of the good life before moving back home to Utah. I still had no official plans to move home. I had just been promoted at my job, and things were going great. I didn’t want to give that up until I absolutely had to. Greg and Tiffany were sure to make me feel like shit for not committing to moving back.
    â€œIt’s okay, Danny. Have fun in Los Angeles while I spend all the time in the world with Dad and become his favorite son,” Greg passive-aggressively joked.
    â€œYeah, we’ll get him to write you out of the will,” said Tiffany in a rare attempt at humor.
    â€œLast week, they made us dance for an extra two hours to get ready for our recital,” said Chelsea. “Two hours. Can you believe that?”
    Jessica didn’t say anything.
    â€œSorry if I’m the only successful sibling with a good job,” I fired back.
    We all went out to dinner at a fancy restaurant on Rush Street to celebrate Greg’s graduation. As we waited for our large table (we always had to wait because there were seven of us), I played with my dad’s hands. He could hardly move them at this point. I uncoiled and recoiled his fingers. I didn’t know what to say. My grandma Barbie, my dad’s mom, was eighty-four and had some kidney issues. She had been telling us she was ready to go.
    â€œSo, do you think you or Grandma will die first?” I asked for some reason.
    My dad got a little teary eyed and said, “I don’t know. I hope we both live a lot longer, but probably Grandma.”
    Greg overheard the conversation. He started to cry.
    â€œShit, sorry, I was just joking, making small talk,” I said.
    â€œI know, but still, it’s just—all of this is so sad,” cried Greg.
    â€œRelax, Gregor. Dad’s gonna live a long, long time, remember?” I said. “You haven’t had that much liquid on your face since your last blowie.” I smiled at him, trying to get him to laugh. He kept crying. I was attempting to fight Lou Gehrig’s disease with humor, but no one