Page 316 - A Little Life: A Novel

it’s not going to be a permanent condition. The bad news is that I can’t tell
you when it’ll end, or when it might start again. And the other bad news is
that the only thing we can do—besides wait—is treat it with pain

medication, which I know you won’t take.” He paused. “Jude, I know you
don’t like the way they make you feel,” Andy said, “but there are some
better ones on the market now than when you were twenty, or even thirty.
Do you want to try? At least let me give you something mild for your face:
Isn’t it killing you?”
“It’s not so bad,” he lied. But he did accept a prescription from Andy in
the end.

“And stay off your feet,” Andy said, after he had examined his face.
“And stay off the courts, too, for god’s sake.” And, as he was leaving, “And
don’t think we’re not going to discuss your cutting!” because he was cutting
himself more since he had begun seeing Caleb.
Back on Greene Street, he parked in the short driveway preceding the
building’s garage and was fitting his key into the front door when he heard

someone call his name, and then saw Caleb climbing out of his car. He was
in his wheelchair, and he tried to get inside quickly. But Caleb was faster
than he, and grabbed the door as it was closing, and then the two of them
were in the lobby again, alone.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said to Caleb, at whom he couldn’t look.
“Jude, listen,” Caleb said. “I’m so sorry. I really am. I was just—it’s been
a terrible time at work, everything’s such shit there—I’d have come over

earlier this week, but it’s been so bad that I couldn’t even get away—and I
completely took it out on you. I’m really sorry.” He crouched beside him.
“Jude. Look at me.” He sighed. “I’m so sorry.” He took his face in his
hands and turned it toward him. “Your poor face,” he said quietly.
He still can’t quite understand why he let Caleb come up that night. If he
is to admit it to himself, he feels there was something inevitable, even, in a

small way, a relief, about Caleb’s hitting him: all along, he had been waiting
for some sort of punishment for his arrogance, for thinking he could have
what everyone else has, and here—at last—it was. This is what you get, said
the voice inside his head. This is what you get for pretending to be someone
you know you’re not, for thinking you’re as good as other people. He
remembers how JB had been so terrified of Jackson, and how he had
understood his fear, how he had understood how you could get trapped by

another human being, how what seemed so easy—the act of walking away