can remember that you have exactly that much courage, and what are you waiting for?”
“It’s a commitment,” she said. “It’s an effort.”
“Fortunately,” I said, “you’re good at commitment and effort.”
“Just like you.”
“Yes,” I said. “Just like me. Reckon we’re a matched pair.”
She stopped. Looking out over the rugged gray peaks of mountains, half-obscured by fog. Over the lake, restless and ever-changing. And out to the Wanaka Tree, drowned in the water and growing anyway, because you couldn’t kill something that strong.
She said, “The thing I have to tell you. I did some research, and then I talked to Matiu, and he did some more. There’s a test.”
“A test?” I said. “For what?”
“Two tests, actually, that can help predict late global outcome after TBI. The research is new, just in the past couple years, but it looks solid.”
“Late global outcome,” I said.
“Meaning that they can help predict whether you’ll develop CTE. Not definitively, but significantly.”
“Oh.” I couldn’t say more than that.
“One of them,” she said, “is non-invasive. A test for eye movement abnormalities. The other is more specific. More predictive. It involves a lumbar puncture to get a sample of your cerebrospinal fluid, and then they run it through a PET scan. There’s something called tau proteins. Elevated total-tau in your cerebrospinal fluid is a strong indicator of pathologic causes of brain dysfunction. Not so much for Alzheimer’s, but for multiple-TBI patients, it appears to be predictive. In other words, if your t-tau’s elevated, you’ll know you’re more at risk, and if it isn’t, you’ll know you’re not. If you want to know. Do you want to know?”
I had to think about that.
“Yes,” I said. “It’s better to know. If you know, you can act. If I know that I’ll get it …” I had to stop a minute. Had to catch my breath. “I can make the right decisions.”
I said it, and I felt all the chill of it. I’d avoided thinking about this, but it was why I’d run away from involvement. Why half of me wanted to run still.
How does it help, Mum had asked, for you not to love somebody?
Because I wouldn’t put myself in a position to hurt them.
Daisy asked, “Why are you so quiet? What are you thinking?”
“That I’m glad you told me,” I said. “And that once I know the truth, I’ll make those decisions.”
“Gray.” She’d turned to face me, her hands on my wrists. “What are you thinking? Tell me the truth.”
There was a line in some Shakespeare play they’d made us read in school. Though she be but little, she is fierce. That was how Daisy looked now.
I said, “That I’ll be glad to know.” Though I wouldn’t be. And then I did tell the truth. “Because I’ll be able to protect you, if I have to.”
She stared at me, and then she laughed. “You’re joking. You think that’s why I’d told you? So you could nobly renounce me and free me to be with a better man?”
“What?” I said. “What else do you imagine I’d do with that information?”
“Gray.” She still had my wrists, and her eyes were intent on my face. Brown eyes, clear and honest and shining with intelligence. “I’ve got the better man. I’ve got the best man. How could you imagine that I’d let you do that?”
“If I have it,” I said, “it can mean dementia, later on. Personality changes. Even violence.”
“So we’ll know,” she said. “And we’ll plan. With clear heads.”
“You don’t want that,” I said. “I’d never sign you up for that.”
“No,” she said. “I’d sign myself up. Don’t you know that I’d rather have this time with you than a lifetime with anybody else? Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
I couldn’t speak. I tried, and I couldn’t do it.
She said, “Do you imagine you’re the only one with strength?”
“No,” I said. “I don’t.”
“Then let’s do it,” she said. “Let’s find out. All of life ends in death. That’s the horror of it, and the beauty, too, isn’t it? Living clear-eyed in the face of that knowledge. Somebody said that when you love somebody, you give a hostage to fortune, and I’d say they’re right. You put yourself at so much risk for pain and suffering, but if you don’t do it, what’s the risk then? What’s the cost of living without love?”
“Too high,” I said.
“That’s right,” she said. “It’s too high. And I won’t do it. I choose the risk, and I choose you.”
“Then,” I said, and took a breath. “If I can’t stop