Page 318 - A Little Life: A Novel

But the next morning, he can tell even before he is fully conscious that
the pain in his feet is back. It had vanished, completely and unpredictably,
two weeks ago, but now it’s returned, and as he stands, he can also tell it’s

gotten worse: it is as if his legs end at his ankles, and his feet are
simultaneously inanimate and vividly painful. To walk, he must look down
at them; he needs visual confirmation that he is lifting one, and visual
confirmation that he is placing it down again.
He takes ten steps, but each one takes a greater and greater effort—the
movement is so difficult, takes so much mental energy, that he is nauseated,
and sits down again on the edge of the bed. Don’t let Caleb see you like this,

he warns himself, before remembering: Caleb is out running, as he does
every morning. He is alone in the house.
He has some time, then. He drags himself to the bathroom on his arms
and into the shower. He thinks of the spare wheelchair in his car. Surely
Caleb will have no objections to him getting it, especially if he can present
himself as basically healthy, and this as just a small setback, a day-long

inconvenience. He was planning on driving back to the city very early the
next morning, but he could leave earlier if he needs to, although he would
rather not—yesterday had been so nice. Maybe today can be as well.
He is dressed and waiting on the sofa in the living room, pretending to
read a brief, when Caleb returns. He can’t tell what kind of mood he’s in,
but he’s generally mild after his runs, even indulgent.
“I sliced some of the leftover steak,” he tells him. “Do you want me to

make you eggs?”
“No, I can do it,” Caleb says.
“How was your run?”
“Good. Great.”
“Caleb,” he says, trying to keep his tone light, “listen—I’ve been having
this problem with my feet; it’s just some side effects from nerve damage

that comes and goes, but it makes it really difficult for me to walk. Do you
mind if I get the wheelchair from my car?”
Caleb doesn’t say anything for a minute, just finishes drinking his bottle
of water. “You can still walk, though, right?”
He forces himself to look back at Caleb. “Well—technically, yes. But—”
“Jude,” says Caleb, “I know your doctor probably disagrees, but I have to
say I think there’s something a little—weak, I guess, about your always

going to the easiest solution. I think you have to just endure some things,