Consequently, since this is an experiment for me, I thought I would like to begin at the end, then work my way forward. After all, even rabid Harry Potter fans just wanted to see the end. And I damn well bet that most did not read straight thru a 700+ page book just to discover whether Hermione finally entered puberty, with all those disgusting implications. Nope, they began by sneaking little looks around page 703 looking for hints. Once these little snippets of information began to be so tantalizing, I bet they swallowed the last chapter(s) whole, despite their guilt.
So, imagine, if you will, the little gathering around my bedside. Hushed voices and whispers from the children; warm hands of my wife. From the kitchen, smells of home cooked food carefully wrapped in plastic, brought by friends who usually say something like, "I can't stay, but brought you some jello salad and an apple pie. How's He doing?"
"He" is doing fine, considering that the hospice lady just fired another syringe into the IV. Considering that He's not going to get out of this alive. Considering that He's trying to decide whether to ask for some of that fried chicken or a few shrimp. The apple pie lands on the groaning board, now too full to accept another covered dish. Jello in the frig, which is likewise stuffed.
Jello salad and apple pie lady enters the bedroom, a sad smile on her face. "It's good to see you....", avoiding eye contact and looking directly at my daughter whose red eyes convey the message Jello salad really came for. This turkey is cooked. Well done. One of the issues with dying is that these people keep coming. Even in death, I need to be polite....."Wilma, thanks for coming."
My wife volunteers (to the Jello woman she scarcely knows), "He's been sleeping a little and is not so restless." Hell yes!, those syringes are full of class "A" narcotics. You'd be sleeping a little, too, if you were as loaded as me. "He asked for chocolate covered cherries this afternoon, and is paying for it now. The diabetes, you know". Jello nods her head.
"Well, he is an inspiration" adds Jello, "I know he will die with nearly twenty years of sobriety".
" Yes, we discussed that and he had me buy a bottle of Tanqueray, some tonic and limes, just in case." wife discloses.
"Oh". Jello sadly shakes her head trying to decide if she's been here long enough, if maybe, should she stay a little longer, she might see me take a drink, die, or both....hmmmm. Great fodder for the next meeting.
"Alcoholic, diabetic and then lung cancer", Jello volunteers, "That must have been a teriffic burden". God save me, get this broad out of here....
"Trevor drank dad's Tanqueray!", Bekah blurted, eyes still red, anger in her face. "He's downstairs with Kevin, drinking and playing some damn video game!"
"We'll get some more." Bobbie quietly answers, very patiently. Damn...codependancy is such a chore sometimes...not much more I'm going to do about it now.
It's very quiet. In fact, too quiet. My eyes move around the room. A tube runs from the bottle hanging by the bed to the port in my chest. Other than that, it's pretty normal. Jello lady has left. Hushed voices from the kitchen..bet they are eating my apple pie. Bobbie comes in and sits softly on the chair beside me.
"Did you get more Tanqueray?"
"Yes."
"How about we have a gin and tonic together?"
"You shouldn't."
"What the hell." It's the way we began our relationship, over forty years ago... "We've had a lot of good talks over gin and tonic."
Her hand slides over to mine, playing softly with my fingers. Her hands are large, warm, comfortable.
"I love you."
"Yes, I know," she says.
"Why is it so dark in here?"
