You can read a text-only version of this chapter at https://asphaltarcanum.com/chapter-2-text-only/

Alvin tipped a handful of pills out of the Tuesday PM slot of the plastic pill sorter. Then he pulled the pitcher off the blender bottom and poured the half-ice-cream-half-Ensure strawberry-ish concoction he’d made into a plastic tumbler with a lid and a straw. 

He yawned wide and itched at the bandage on his elbow. It was late, way later than he usually gave Lola her milkshake and meds and got her to bed. They’d spent over ten hours waiting today—waiting in the busted-up subway car to be shuttled back to the station, then waiting for the paramedics to get them to the ER, then waiting for the doctors to look Lola over. She had some horrifying-looking cuts and bruises on her arms and legs from falling out of her wheelchair, but the ER doc told him that it was all superficial, and as long as he kept the cuts clean and changed the bandages properly, she should heal up fine. They’d considered keeping her overnight for observation, but Lola never did well in hospitals. The risk of complications was low. Better to just take her home.

His phone pinged where he’d left it on the counter playing a chill Minecraft stream as background noise. He glanced over at the Discord message that popped up and saw a good morning from Janxie, just signing on for the day in Malaysia, followed swiftly by a note tagging him that was mostly panicked emoji. He rinsed his hands and dried them on his pants so he could type out a quick reply.

He put his phone aside, ignoring the flurry of response pings for now. He’d messaged the group from the hospital waiting room with a too-vague note around seven, then he’d been  pulled into a bunch of medical paperwork and conversations with doctors and cops and totally forgotten to update anyone. Oops.

He put the pills, milkshake, and a glass of water on a tray and brought it out to the little table next to the beat-up recliner, to the small, hunched, wrinkled woman in the baggy floral dress who was staring blankly at nothing. 

This was his grandmother, and other than some cousins in the Philippines he’d only met twice, the only family he had left since Mom died. 

“Hey there,” he said softly, holding out the pills for her to take. 

“Where’s Alvin…?” she said weakly. 

“Alvin’s not here right now, but he’ll be back soon, don’t worry. Here, you need to swallow these, and then I’ve got a strawberry milkshake for you!” He did his best to keep his voice soothing and upbeat, but he was too tired to do his best acting. Still, her face lit up a little at the words “strawberry milkshake” and she swallowed the pills with no fuss.

It still stung a little, knowing that she wasn’t really asking for him when she used his name. 

Alvin knew he didn’t look much like the great-uncle he’d been named for, his lola’s beloved older brother. Back when she first started getting confused about things, it took him a while to understand why telling her “I’m Alvin” upset her so much.

Then he’d tried to tell her that Alvin died over a decade ago, of cancer, in a hospital in Manila. That had not gone over well. It was way easier—and kinder, he had to believe, even if lying about something so major felt weird—to just tell her that he’d be back soon and reassure her that she was safe and everything was fine. She’d forget this conversation in a few minutes, anyway.

Alzheimer's was the fucking worst.

Lola drank her milkshake slowly, staring blankly at nothing Alvin could see. While she was distracted, he went into the apartment’s single bedroom and pulled out a nightgown and a new adult diaper. This was another part of caring for her he’d been so incredibly uncomfortable about at the beginning, but, well, people can get used to pretty much anything. Honestly, it was harder back when Lola was a little more coherent—she’d sometimes be half-undressed and suddenly get panicked or upset when she realized there was a “strange man” in the room. It made him feel awful to freak her out like that, but it wasn’t like they had other options—he’d done endless paperwork and doctor visits to get them on the waiting lists for subsidized care, but nothing had come through yet. Nowadays, she mostly didn’t understand what was happening and let him handle the embarrassing parts with as little fuss as possible. Small blessings.

Lola put the plastic tumbler aside, and Alvin got her gently out of the chair and supported her as she shuffled through the shortest possible version of their normal nighttime routine. She was clearly exhausted, and honestly, so was he. Skipping brushing her teeth and washing her face wasn’t that big a deal, or so he told himself with a small pang of guilt.

When he finally had her settled in bed, he stripped off his jeans and button-down shirt and let them fall in a crumpled heap on the floor, then pulled on some sweats and his favorite ancient hoodie. He grabbed his laptop off the desk and settled in on the livingroom futon that doubled as his bed, pulling the blankets around him. He let out a deep, heavy sigh and rubbed his face. He didn’t usually have to keep up the whole hyper-responsible act for so many hours in a row, and dropping it left him feeling wrung out and dead tired.

He considered just turtling and playing some mindless game for a while, but he’d promised to check in. And he knew he’d feel better if he talked to people, even if the thought was exhausting right now. He opened Discord on his laptop and read through the messages from this afternoon.

Alvin smiled around the lump in his throat as he typed out a quick message.

His friends were the best.