They learned how to give him his medications. They wrote it all down in a notebook. What pills, what time, how many.
They paid for extra nights at the motel when his disability check ran out. So he wouldn’t have to sleep in the bus station.
Ezoic
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I said. “Nathan. Why? Why didn’t you just tell me?”
Nathan was quiet for a long time.
“He made me promise,” he said finally.
“What?”
“The first day,” Nathan said. “At the gas station. I said, ‘I’m going to call Mom.’ And he grabbed my arm. Really hard. And he said, ‘No. Please. Don’t tell her.’”
“Why?”
“He said you’d earned your peace,” Nathan said. “He said he took ten years of your life and turned it into a nightmare. He said he’d put you through enough. He said, ‘I’m not going to make her watch me die. She already watched me die once. On the kitchen floor.’”
