108:  Are We Moving Next Door to Snooki?

            “So what is this talk about leaving this hospital?’

“Brian, the doctors here informed me that Roxie is finally cancer free now!”

“Wow!  Yippee!  Oh my God!”  The three cheered simultaneously and burst out gleefully laughing they rejoice diligently about the cancer-free news. 

“We have to find a way to celebrate,” Brian said.

“We will later, Brian,” Harold promised, “But let me first tell you what the doctors said about you.”

“What did they say?”  Brian was eager to know right away.

“They said since you won’t consent to the operation, they have done everything they can do for you here.  So they want to sign your release papers along with Roxie’s.”

“And so, what is that supposed to mean?”

“They suggest that you continue to take the medication, but in addition you should undergo regular physical therapy sessions, and that you can be treated as an outpatient.  Therefore, you don’t have to be refined inside a hospital or any other facility unless you really want to.”

“Fuck!  Do you really think I really want to!  I’ll give anything to stay the fuck out of places like this!  So, let’s finally start looking for a permanent place to live!”

“Fine then I’ll arrange it, but Brian I want you to get the best care possible though.  The doctors here have recommended one of the best rehabilitation places in the country.  So, I thought the three of us would find a really nice house or apartment (whichever one you prefer Brian) and move out there.”

“Fine.  I have no objections.  But where is out there?”

“New Jersey.”

“Jersey, Harold?  Are you fucking kidding me?  Of all places, are you seriously suggesting we move to Jersey (the toxic waste capitol of the US)?  Where in New Jersey?”

“What so bad about living inside New Jersey?”  Rosalind wondered.  “Are we going to move to the Jersey shore and right next door to Snooki?”  The twelve-year-old enthusiastically asked and nearly bounced up and down on his heels with exhilaration at the possibility of living next door to reality stars.  “Well, daddy and cousin-Brian, are we moving next door to Snooki?”

“I certainly hope the fuck not!”  Brian instantaneously shut her up.  “So, Harold?  What facility in New Jersey?”

“Brian!  How many times do I have to tell you to watch the language in front of my kid?  I don’t want Roxie to start talking that way.”

Brian rolled his eyes at Harold and just remained silent for a while, and then asked again, “What facility is this?”

“A place called Kessler Institute in West Orange, New Jersey.  It has the reputation of being one the best places in the country to treat paralysis, Brian.  It’s that same place that took care of the late actor Christopher Reeves after he had his horse-riding accident.”

“Where?  West Orange, New Jersey?  I know where West Orange is located, Harold!  That is a little too damn close to Pittsburgh.”

“Hey!  Inside a car it’s several hours drive from Pittsburgh, Brian; and like I said, it ranks pretty high as one of the best (if not the very best) facilities in the country.”

“It’s still rather close if someone just happens to send someone looking for me.”

“Who would send someone looking for you?”  Rosalind innocently asked, “And why?  Are the three of us fugitives and on the run like Bonnie and Clyde or somebody exciting like that?”

“What?  You don’t know who Nancy Drew is but you know Bonnie and Clyde?  Un-fucking-believable.”

“Briannnn - the language, please.”

“Hey!  The language is the only spunk I got left inside me, Harold!”

“Yeah,” Harold murmured (He fully understood Brian’s position then).

“Roz, there’s something you should know about the move,” Brian informed her.

“Know what?”  Rosalind asked and Harold was just as curious.

“Roz, I don’t want anyone that I used to know finding me.  So, you can’t tell anyone where we moved to or that I’m living with your father and you.”

“Why not?”

“Never mind ‘why not’; just be aware of it and don’t bring people around to see me.  That includes all our family members too (even my own mother and sister).”

“How about my mother?”

“Shit!”  Brian spat.

“I think Vivian’s okay,” Harold rationalized.  “Who interacts with her, anyway?  Roxie is the only one on the planet who can stand to be in the same room with my ex for more than a New York half-of-a-minute.”

“Daddyyy, that’s my mother you’re talking about.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Harold apologized to her.  “Besides Brian, here’s one better: she’ll never come to the house anyway, she always insisted that I bring Roxie to her, and if I don’t, she just threatens to come get her (but she never does).”

“Hey, she can know that Roxie and you are together, Harry, but don’t either of you tell her that you are living with me.”

“Okay, I think that’s doable.  Understand, Roxie?   Your mother is not to know that Brian, you and me all live together.  For her benefit, it’s just the two of us living together.”

“Okay, daddy.  I totally get it.  No one is to know Brian’s whereabouts.”

“That’s pretty much what it equates to.  So, Brian, is it official?  Are we moving to New Jersey or not?”