Page 646 - A Little Life: A Novel

someone freer and braver. But now Willem is gone, and he is again who he
was twenty, thirty, forty years ago.
And so, another Friday. He goes to Andy’s. The scale: Andy sighing. The

questions: his replies, a series of yeses and nos. Yes, he feels fine. No, no
more pain than usual. No, no sign of wounds. Yes, an episode every ten
days to two weeks. Yes, he’s been sleeping. Yes, he’s been seeing people.
Yes, he’s been eating. Yes, three meals a day. Yes, every day. No, he doesn’t
know why he then keeps losing weight. No, he doesn’t want to consider
seeing Dr. Loehmann again. The inspection of his arms: Andy turning them
in his hands, looking for new cuts, not finding any. The week after he

returned from Beijing, the week after he had lost control, Andy had looked
at them and gasped, and he had looked down, too, and had remembered
how bad it had been at times, how insane it had gotten. But Andy hadn’t
said anything, just cleaned him up, and after he had finished, he had held
both of his hands in both of his.
“A year,” Andy had said.

“A year,” he had echoed. And they had both been silent.
After the appointment, they go around the corner to a small Italian
restaurant that they like. Andy is always watching him at these dinners, and
if he thinks he’s not ordering enough food, he orders an additional dish for
him and then badgers him until he eats it. But at this dinner he can tell Andy
is anxious about something: as they wait for their food, Andy drinks,
quickly, and talks to him about football, which he knows he doesn’t care

about and never discusses with him. Andy had talked about sports with
Willem, sometimes, and he would listen to them argue over one team or
another as they sat at the dining table eating pistachios and he prepared
dessert.
“Sorry,” Andy says, at last. “I’m babbling.” Their appetizers arrive, and
they eat, quietly, before Andy takes a breath.

“Jude,” he says, “I’m giving up the practice.”
He has been cutting into his eggplant, but now he stops, puts down his
fork. “Not anytime soon,” Andy adds, quickly. “Not for another three years
or so. But I’m bringing in a partner this year so the transition process will
be as smooth as possible: for the staff, but especially for my patients. He’ll
take over more and more of the patient load with each year.” He pauses. “I
think you’ll like him. I know you will. I’m going to stay your doctor until

the day I leave, and I’ll give you lots of notice before I do. But I want you