Look Away Silence (33 page)

Jasper chuckled, and then sighed. Rudi hung back. He
was, after all, a stranger among us — a date in process. Still, I
waved to him. No one was to be excluded from this line up that fed
my cowboy’s sense of party pooping.

“Come, sir Rudi,” Matt said. “Let my fingers take in
your portrait.”

Matt felt the facescape and then trembled.

“This is not what I expected,” he said.

Rudi sniffed and pulled away, but Matt reached.

“I feel a comrade. You have joined our legions.”

Rudi pulled away retreating to the kitchen. Jasper
followed him.

“Pumpkin.”

“You’ll never forget my face,” I said. “No need to .
. .”

Too late, he latched on.

“Well, what do you see?” I asked.

“Please, Pumpkin. We have company; and what I feel
now about you is not for their ears. But I will tell you that when
the light is gone from these eyes, it will be replaced with a
different light — the rarest light of all. The light from your
soul.”

The party was over. No joy in the world existed now
for me. The ignorant bug was progressing. In its own natural
intolerable way, the virus progressed as programmed. It attacked
the helper cells on life’s battleground; and soon, all were
vulnerable to the invading, virulent bug. A different light was
coming to replace the light that was spent. All was falling to this
bug, most virulent and ignorant bug.

I couldn’t sleep that night. Matt was restless and
in the hospital bed. An odd autumn full moon shone through the
window and my bed was empty and cold. I could see the outline of
the hospital bed in the recesses of the room with my cowboy
shivering, a twitch in his hand as he banged it against the
aluminum railing. I was exhausted, and yet I couldn’t sleep. I sat
up at the bed’s edge — that vast empty queen-size bed that swamped
me. The linen hadn’t been changed in a week. The laundry remained
in piles in the corner and the musty aroma was not to my liking.
What was I to do? Hank was off on vacation — on a visit to his only
living relatives, cousins in Baltimore. He was gone for a week now.
I thought to call Hyacinth for a substitute buddy, but somehow it
didn’t seem appropriate.

The aluminum rail on the hospital bed rattled. I saw
Matt’s eyes in the moonlight. They were dim now, no longer the
Caribbean reefs that I had known. They were empty and lifeless, the
pupils muddled to the whites. I went to the railing, and then
touched his hand. He was awake, but silent.

“Do you need to go?”

I asked.

“No.”

It was a weak sound. A surrender of sorts. I pushed
the comforter aside and checked the state of the sheets. They were
dry. I was relieved. I was too tired to change his linen just now.
I had learned how to change it while he remained in the bed,
because at times he just didn’t want to be bothered. However, it
was dry now. So I massaged his legs and feet. I was gentle, but the
exercise was short lived. I needed a massage myself, and Matt dozed
off. I sighed and returned to the queen-sized edge, but the
moonlight was too disturbing to get me further than just sitting
there.

I wended my way through the growing obstacle course
and into the dark living room. I sat in the chair, closing my eyes.
My mind went through lists of things to do. Dishes piled in the
sink. Carpeting shouting for vacuuming. Clothing scattered on every
chair arm and surface. Opened mail cluttered. Unopened mail
cluttered. The refrigerator near empty. Lists and lists and . .
.

I stood on the mountain — that pinnacle in the
Rockies. There was a man at the edge, his back turned toward me. He
was dangerously close . . . but no, he was beyond the edge,
standing in mid-air, the wind blowing his hair. I shuddered, but
there was no sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach — my usual
response to height. I moved closer. I, the unbrave, moved closer. A
sudden thought overcame me. The man was beckoning me to step out
and join him. I knew that if I did it, I wouldn’t fall. So I moved
to the brink. I could see the range of mountains in the distance,
and feel the fresh breeze across my cheeks. I inhaled the cool
crisp air not fearing that it was so thin it would not sustain me.
The man turned.

“Martin,” he said. “It’s not so bad here. Not so
bad.”

I smiled.

“Russ,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t there. Did you miss my funeral?”

“I’m sorry.”

“But I’m here and wasn’t there. That was a terrible
place to be, so I came here, where I could let go of it all. Not so
bad . . . here.”

I poised one foot over the ledge. I knew that if I
stepped out, the air would buoy me.

“Not yet, Martin,” Russ said. “Hold on still. Hold
on until you need to let go. There will be a letting go. Tell him
that it must be. Not so bad here, after all. Not bad.”

Still, I stepped out . . .

“Martin.”

I awoke. It was daytime. When did
that
happen?

“Martin,”

She was at the door, knocking and calling. I wasn’t
dressed, just my BVDs. Groggy, I grabbed for one of several
blankets that draped on the sofa, made an impromptu toga and
bungled toward the door.

“Martin.”

I opened it.

“Louise. You startled me.”

“Sorry to wake you, but it’s ten o’clock
already.”

“I’m off my schedule with Hank on vacation and . .
.”

She crossed the threshold and surveyed the place. I
could see she was shocked by the condition. I was shocked, so why
shouldn’t she be?

“I can’t believe this place,” she said. She shucked
her coat. I grabbed it as she marched into the kitchen and then
back to the living room. “This is unlike you.”

“I haven’t been me lately,” I stammered.

She gazed at me with eyes first of accusation, and
then of pity.

“Of course, you haven’t. And with Hank in Baltimore,
I should have known. I should have come sooner.”

“No. It wouldn’t have made a difference. I’ve been
trying to get stuff done and also to work. Managed to get to
The
Cavern
two days ago, but I think I’ll be among the missing
there until Hank gets back. So much stuff to do here.”

“Nonsense,” she said. “I’ll help you. Does Viv
know?”

“Yes.”

Viv was up the night I worked, but clutter was a
natural state for her, so I was just thankful that someone could
watch Matt.

Louise took me in her arms. The blanket slipped
away.

“Oh, lamb, don’t be a hero. If you need help, speak
up.”

“I think you and Sammy have helped quite
enough.”

“Money is one thing, but it is not everything.”

“Well, it sure helps.”

“Maybe so, but there are other things.” She gazed
about the apartment again. I covered up. “I know you are proud, but
he is my son. Is he up?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I fell asleep here and
haven’t been in there since late last night. We had a rough
night.”

“I don’t mean to be bossy,” she said. She hugged me
again. “You know, I have never known a man so brave in my life as
you.”

“Me? Martin, the unbrave?”

“Unbrave? Nonsense. I know that this isn’t the only
time people are faced with caring for loved ones. God knows, I
watched and cared for my own mother as she died of lung cancer. But
to watch men in their twenties and thirties waste away. And to lose
a son.”

“You haven’t lost a son, Louise.”

“I know. But dear, Martin, unless someone comes up
with a cure . . .”

“I’ll not give up hope. That cure could be around
the corner. We just need to get him around that corner.”

Louise sighed, and then collapsed on the sofa, the
tears welling and brimming. I joined her both on the couch and in
the weeping. It was as if we were mourning already. However, my
cowboy was still alive — not kicking maybe, but certainly breathing
the shitty air in the bedroom. It was my turn to console and
believe it. I had little consolation for myself. To share it was a
mighty task.

“We’ll have courage for two, Mom. You should come to
a Hyacinth support group. You might find some answers there.”

“Have you, dear?”

“No.”

“Then I am afraid I would find them depressing. In
fact, I might depress them. I just don’t understand it all. It’s
not right that those who die are but a mite of a sweet boy . .
.”

“And poor Russell,” I said.

It was the first time I had mentioned Russ to anyone
since his passing. However, I had just met up with him on a
mountain ledge, so his message was fresh in my memory.

“Russell went too fast. I just could not believe
it.”

“Russ was flighty and full of life,” I said. “He was
like a butterfly feeding on life — flower to flower. Little did we
know that too much life could be . . . death.”

It was as if I finally delivered his eulogy. But he
didn’t care that I wasn’t at his funeral. He just told me so,
didn’t he?

Louise dried her eyes on my blanket toga.

“You should go see Matt now,” I said. “But brace
yourself. He’s so much older looking now. I’m growing old in the
passage, in this vigil I keep. I think one day, I’ll wake up, look
in the mirror and see an old woman. Mother.”

“Your mother?”

“No. Mother, a drag-queen at
The Cavern
.”

“Don’t be silly.”

Once I had been silly. Silly as putty. I had also
once been unbrave, but thanks to Russ and a cliff’s edge, I was
unbrave no more.

I followed Louise into the bedroom. Her nose
twitched at the aroma. Her son, her sweet baby child and my
blue-eye cowboy, slept like an old man, his breath fighting to
remain aloft. His face, shallow, cheeks sunken and hair thinning,
but his eyes were closed. It would make no difference, as they were
almost as dead as stones. She kissed his hands and he awoke.

“Mom,” he said. “Is that you?”

“Yes, lamb,” she said. “How are you this
morning?”

“I praise God I have another day,” he said. “It’s
almost Thanksgiving. I just can’t wait to leave this place and be
with y’all like old times.”

“Well, hon,” she said, fighting back the tears. “We
shall see. We shall see.”

“Is Pumpkin there? I need to go potty.”

“I am.”

I lowered the rail and eased his leg over the edge.
We began the
choo choo
train stroll that we both had
mastered.

“Careful,” I said. “The place is getting a little
cluttered. Don’t want you to fall again.”

“Bruises, bruises. I’m all bruises now. Do you think
another one will matter?”

“They’re not bruises and you know it. The point is,
I can’t pick you up off the floor by myself. And Hank’s in
Baltimore.”

“In Baltimore? What’s in Baltimore?”

“You know what’s in Baltimore. His cousins. And if
you fall now, I’ll just call 9-1-1 and they’ll send out some
policemen to get you up.”

“Maybe I should fall. I love men in uniform.”

I chuckled, but not really. I was just thankful that
we might just be having a good day or at least as close to good as
they come.

“It should be easier. I’m getting lighter.”

“You’re getting fresher and besides, it’s dead
weight.”

“Literally?”

“Stop it now, or I’ll lock you in the bathroom and
throw away the key.”

We made it, the full round trip. It was like taking
a ten-mile hike in the Andes. We
choo choo
trained back to
the hospital bed.

“Arrived at the station,” I said. “Sit carefully.
Let me get your legs. Do you want to be propped up or lie
flat?”

“Propped up,” Matt said. “Did I hear someone come
in?”

“No one came in. Your Mom’s here.”

“Mom, you’re here?”

“Yes, lamb. I’ve been here.”

“It’s time for your meds.”

“I don’t want that shit anymore,” he said. “What’s
the point? How much longer do you need to suffer with me? We could
solve this all right now, you know.”

“I don’t want to talk about that again. I’m not Dr.
Kevorkian. You’re going be around way past Christmas.”

“Such talk,” Louise said, barely holding on. “I’ll
be in the kitchen, Martin. It needs a little tidying up.”

I knew she would work her sorry into dishpan hands.
I was glad for it . . . the help, not her sorrow.

“It’s so nice to hear her voice,” Matt said. “It’s
like summer in the air. But I want to smell the aroma of her
cooking. I need it once more. We are going to my Mom’s for
Thanksgiving, aren’t we?”

“We’ll see,” I said. Sounded like a lame lie.

“I love Mom’s on Turkey day. It’s so wonderful
there. You know I love it. And you love it too. And they’ll love to
have us. Right Mom?”

“She’s inside . . . cleaning up.”

“Where’s Hank?”

“Out,” I said. “As for Thanksgiving at Mom’s. Maybe
we can have it here.”

“Don’t make up stories, Pumpkin. I’m no child. I
want you to shove me in a fucking wheelbarrow and push me there if
you have to. I mean, there’s not much left of me that bones in a
wheelbarrow couldn’t accommodate. Promise me, Pumpkin. Promise me
that we’ll go.”

“We’ll see.”

“That’s not a promise. That’s a no. Especially when
you say it that way.”

“Matt, wouldn’t it be better if they all came here
and spent it with us? After all, it’s the people that count.”

Matt frowned, his cheeks unable to catch the tears
from his lifeless eyes.

“I’m not going to make it to Thanksgiving, am I?” he
said. “I’ll never see anyone again. No eyes. No energy. No dreams
when I sleep. I’m a mess beyond all belief. I feel bad for my
parents when they get old like me and suffer like me. If I’m not
going to make it to Thanksgiving, I want to die today, Pumpkin. I
want you to go out and buy the biggest load of medical shit
possible and shove it down my throat so I can end this nightmare.
I’m only twenty-five years old and now I’m not going to have
another Thanksgiving or feel another snowfall or get fucked again.
Pumpkin, let me go. Let me fucking go.”