Page 511 - A Little Life: A Novel

He goes to the bedroom with their bag, and Jude goes directly to the
kitchen. He takes out their toothbrushes and electric razors and puts them in
the bathroom, and then he lies down on the bed.

He sleeps all afternoon; he is too overwhelmed to do anything else.
Dinner is just the four of them, and he looks in the mirror, quickly
practicing his laugh, before he joins the others in the dining room. Over
dinner, Jude is very quiet, but Willem tries to talk and listen as if everything
is normal, though it is difficult, as his mind is full of what he has learned.
Even through his rage and despair, he registers that Jude has almost
nothing on his plate, but when Harold says, “Jude, you have to eat more;

you’ve gotten way too skinny. Right, Willem?” and looks to him for the
support and cajoling he would normally, reflexively offer, he instead shrugs.
“Jude’s an adult,” he says, his voice odd to him. “He knows what’s best for
him,” and out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Julia and Harold exchange
glances with each other, and Jude look down at his plate. “I ate a lot when I
was cooking,” he says, and they all know this is untrue, because Jude never

snacks while he’s cooking, and doesn’t let anyone else do so, either: “The
Snack Stasi,” JB calls him. He watches Jude absentmindedly cup his hand
around his sweatered arm right where the burn would be, and then he looks
up, and sees Willem staring, and drops his hand and looks back down again.
Somehow they get through dinner, and as he and Julia do the dishes, he
keeps the conversation topical and light. After, they go to the living room,
where Harold is waiting for him to watch the previous weekend’s game,

which he has recorded. At the entryway to the room, he pauses: normally,
he would join Jude and squash in beside him on the oversize, overstuffed
chair that has been squished in next to what they call Harold’s Chair, but
tonight he cannot sit next to Jude—he can barely look at him. And yet if he
doesn’t, Julia and Harold will know for certain that something is seriously
wrong between them. But as he hesitates, Jude stands and, as if anticipating

his quandary, announces that he’s tired and is going to bed. “Are you sure?”
Harold asks. “The evening’s just beginning.” But Jude says he is, and kisses
Julia good night and waves vaguely in Harold and Willem’s direction, and
once again, he sees Julia and Harold look at each other.
Julia eventually leaves as well—she has never understood the appeal of
American football—and after she goes, Harold pauses the game and looks
over at him. “Is everything okay with you two?” he asks, and Willem nods.

Later, when he too is going to bed, Harold reaches out his hand for his own