We Are Inevitable by Gayle Forman (read aloud txt) 📕

and if I wait for them to get their act together, I’ll be a sixty-year-old man and no longer in need of boners.”

“But Thailand? Is it legal?”

“In Thailand it is,” Frederic says.

“Is it safe?”

“I can assure you, the clinic is state of the art,” Frederic says. “Most patients say it exceeds anything they’ve seen here in the US.”

“I’ve been on the fence,” Chad says, “but now that I’ve met you, I’m gonna do it!”

“I think you’ll be very happy.”

“So what happens next? Dr. Laszlo has all my records.”

“Yes. You are approved. Once he receives the deposit, you will join the waiting list. Another third is due when the procedure is scheduled, usually three months prior. And the final third before travel is booked.”

“How much does this thing cost?” I ask.

Chad ignores the question. “And how long’s the waitlist?”

“Currently from nine to twelve months.”

“Okay.” Chad nods. “That’ll give me time to come up with the rest of it, but once I pay the deposit, I get on the list?”

“Yes,” Frederic replies.

“Will I lose my deposit if I can’t get the money in time?”

Frederic smiles. “No. Dr. Laszlo is very understanding about financing. You only lose the deposit if you withdraw from the procedure.”

“Oh, I won’t do that,” Chad promises. “And it really helped?” he asks Frederic. “And you can . . . ?” He gestures to his lap. “Like you did before? And live a normal life? Fall in love? Get married?”

“Your Lena is out there,” Frederic promises. “And now you’ll be able to find her.”

We have a few hours to kill before the show, so Chad suggests we get some Thai food. “’Cause, you know, I’ll be in Thailand soon.” He Yelps a place nearby, which says it’s accessible on the listing, but when we get there, the tables are so tightly shoved together Chad can’t fit and the manager insists on rearranging things while apologizing profusely. I can tell the entire thing makes Chad uncomfortable and I’m relieved on his behalf when we finally get situated.

“What’s the difference between spring rolls and summer rolls?” Chad asks, looking at the menu.

“Spring is fried.”

“Let’s do fried. Do you eat shrimp?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Isn’t it, like, against your religion?”

“We’re not religious like that, Chad. We don’t even go to temple. Not that there’s a temple to go to near us.”

“Oh, cool. Wanna split the shrimp pad thai? It has the word Thai in it, so it must be a thing. And some spring rolls?”

“Sounds good.”

Chad beckons over the waitress and we order. After she leaves, he adds, “Yelp says the portions are huge, so we can share and it’ll be cheaper. ’Cause, you know, I’m in economy mode now.”

“How much is the Stim?”

Chad unsnaps his chopsticks and rubs them together. “Not as much as you think,” he says. “It’s actually a total steal compared to how much things cost here.”

“Total steal is maybe not what you should be looking for in a medical procedure.”

“I only meant that it’s not as inflated as healthcare here is.”

“So how much is it?”

Chad hesitates. “Thirty grand.”

“Thirty thousand dollars?”

“Keep it down, will you?” Chad says, gesturing around to the empty restaurant.

“Thirty thousand dollars is a lot of money,” I whisper.

“It includes travel expenses, minus the flight,” he adds.

“Isn’t the flight the travel expense?”

“No, there’s food. And your stay in the clinic and five weeks’ rehab. You know how much rehab costs here? A thousand dollars a day.”

“But isn’t that covered by insurance?”

“Not all of it. We had a ton of debt when I got out, and had to spend nearly all the settlement money on it.”

Yeah. We had a ton of medical debt too. And no settlement money. “Do you have thirty thousand dollars?”

“No,” he admits. “I have enough to cover the deposit and some of the second payment. My dad—he gets why I want the procedure—says he’ll take out a loan to pay for the rest. But my mom doesn’t want to go further into debt for a surgery in another country.”

“Your mom sounds wise.”

“As opposed to who? Me?” Chad’s mouth sets into a thin pursed line.

“I didn’t say that. It’s just . . . how much have you researched this procedure?”

“All I’ve done is research.”

“So there are trials? Studies? Papers?”

Chad rolls his eyes. “Who needs that shit? I’ve gone to the source. Talked to guys who’ve had it.”

“Like Frederic, you mean?”

“You got something against Frederic?”

“You met him online.”

“News flash, Aaron. Online is how you meet people these days.”

“But have you met any of them?” I pause. “It’s pretty easy to scam people online. You know, like catfishing.”

Chad guffaws. “You think Frederic is catfishing me?”

“Not like that. But, you know . . . what exactly is his role in all this?”

“What do you mean, what’s his role? He’s like me. Only he’s had the procedure and he has Lena.”

“And he just happens to be in Seattle?”

“So what? People come to Seattle all the time.”

“And he doesn’t work for the clinic?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“But the doctor’s name is Laszlo, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And he’s Hungarian?”

“How should I know?”

“It’s a Hungarian name. There’s a famous author named László Krasznahorkai.”

“Uh-huh.” Chad looks bored.

“Well, don’t you think it’s a little fishy that some Hungarian guy just happens to be in the city and happens to have had the procedure and is meeting with you out of the goodness of his heart?” I pause. “Like, he obviously works for the clinic. Maybe he’s not even paralyzed. Maybe Lena’s not even his wife.”

“You saw the brochure!”

“Anyone can make a brochure!”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying it seems shady and you should maybe do more research.”

“I see,” Chad says. “Because obviously I’m too stupid to figure this out on my own because I don’t read books like you do or know authors like László Krapishinski.”

“Krasznahorkai,” I correct.

Chad glares at me. “I know you think you know everything about me, but if you’d known me longer than two weeks, you’d know I’ve actually been researching this since the day I woke up in the hospital.”

“I just don’t want to see you taken advantage