Thoreau in Love by John Schuyler Bishop

head.” Ben lifted his arms and, in a craggy, witchlike voice, said, “ ‘Are those the children of George and Lydia?’ Put the fear in us. But Crazy Betty could be kind when she had a mind to. She taught us about plants and berries and roots and what you could eat and what was poison, and how to fish from the shore and use a slingshot to hunt birds, wild pigs, rabbits. Fitz and I used to go on expeditions. Course that’s probably why I don’t eat meat now. When I think of all the animals I killed, some just to kill ’em, it makes me sick. As far as I’m concerned, a potato’s as good as any meat.”
    Ben’s face lit up. He leaned forward and in an earnest whisper said, “When we get to New York we can go to Graham’s—it’s this boarding house where everyone’s a vegetarian. The only food they make is vegetables. No one eats meat at all. Just vegetables. You’re going to love New York.” And just as quickly his mood shifted back and he sank into the bunk. “It got so all Fitz and I talked about was what it was like off island. Fitz talked to everyone who’d ever been off, and then one day he told me he was leaving and asked if I wanted to come with him. I wanted to, but I couldn’t leave my mother all by herself with my father. Fitz left. He wrote me those letters. And then like I told you he stopped writing. . . . But lockjaw’s awful, isn’t it?”
    “It is.”
    “My father used to scare the wits from me telling how all it took was a break of the skin from a rusty nail, and he’d make this awful face and these awful noises, like he couldn’t breathe. I still have nightmares seeing his face like that. I guess he knew someone who died like that. I’m sorry I’m talking so much. How did he cut his finger so bad?”
    “Sharpening his razor,” said Henry. “Or so he told me. He was still holding the razor when I came upon him. Though the strop wasn’t anywhere near. He made me promise not to tell a soul. And then he ran downstairs and out of the house. He was holding his hand in snow, trying to stop the bleeding when I found him. He told my mother he’d fallen climbing over a fence and caught his finger on a nail.”
    “He told you one thing and your mother another? Why would he do that?”
    “I don’t know. . . . But it was his razor.”
    “You think he did it on purpose?”
    “On purpose?”
    “On Block Island, an old man I knew took his razor to his wrist, did himself in. They said he was in terrible pain with his stomach.”
    “I . . . I hadn’t thought . . . or maybe I had but just didn’t want to think about that. John was always so happy . . . John was the one everyone loved. John did everything right.”
    “Maybe he was really unhappy. I mean, I know everyone thinks because I smile all the time that I’m always happy, but I’m not. Sometimes I’m so sad I have to smile or I’ll just. . . . I don’t know. I don’t want to find out.”
    “Wow. Really? You do always seem so . . . happy.”
    “Being around you makes me happy. You make me feel, I don’t know, like there’s something inside me. Like I’m worthwhile. Oh, but now I’m getting sad. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up—”
    “No, I’m glad you did. You make me feel that way. And maybe John was like that. Not really as happy as he seemed. . . . But, you know what? Even if he did do it on purpose, I know he wished he hadn’t. But when he found out it was lockjaw, he just accepted that he was going to die.” Henry sucked in and let out a deep breath. And Ben smiled his beautiful smile. Henry reached over and touched Ben’s bottom lip. “I love your smile. It’s so, I don’t know, life affirming. But God, now I can’t keep my brother out of my mind.”
    “Go on, tell me.”
    “I’ve never seen anyone suffer so. It’s not like you’re in a fever. Delirious or anything. It’s like everything’s fine, and then all of a sudden all his muscles would contract and he’d bend up like a horseshoe