tended bonsai trees. One topiary was shaped like a dog; another was shaped like a
crescent moon. They passed people in wheelchairs who didn’t look up, and they passed
people sitting hunched over on benches who stared straight ahead without moving their
heads. But there were also other people walking and laughing. There were a couple of
older men playing with a Frisbee. In general, if it hadn’t been for a few poor souls, the
campus looked more like a state park than a mental health facility. When they stopped walking and leaned into an ivy-covered stone wall, Rush put
his arm around Cody and said, “How are you feeling?”
Cody nodded and smiled. “I’m fine,” he said. “I’m a little wobbly, but I’m fine. I
haven’t had a pill, a drink, or a cigarette in six months, and I’m finished with all that for
good.”
“I’m proud of you,” Rush said. “I knew you could beat this.”
Cody took a deep breath. “Have you heard from Roy? He hasn’t been in touch at
all.”
Rush pulled him closer. “Roy calls us all the time. He’s been asking about you
since you arrived here.”
“I’m glad,” Cody said. “I think about him a lot. I made some huge mistakes that
I’m sorry for. I really screwed things up.”
When Lance saw the fallen expression on Cody’s face, he smiled and asked, “Do
you ever see Joey around here? We’ve tried to get in touch with both Harriet and
Anderson, but they won’t return our calls. Harriet returned one call. But she didn’t talk
long and she said very little about Anderson. ”
Cody frowned and stepped away from them. Joey was in the same clinic, but in a
different section. He crossed to a small alcove with a tall, thin statute of a peasant woman
carrying a bucket of flowers. He stared down at the statue and smiled. The expression on
her face was mild, and her features were delicate and simple. “There was one evening,”
Cody said, “when I went to the recreation room to see if there was any life around this
place. Up until then, I’d spent my time in my room alone. I walked into the room and
heard the piano playing. Every Friday night a professional pianist donates his time and tries to get the patients to sing along with him. Most of the time, the patients just sit there
rocking and staring. No one ever joins in. I was feeling good that night, so I asked the
pianist to play something special.”
Rush walked over and stood next to him. “It must have been difficult,” he said.
“It wasn’t easy,” Cody said. “But I was feeling good that night and I wanted to
sing. The pianist started to play my request. It was that old Sonny and Cher song I’d done
with Joey back on the night we sang together in the nightclub. I was only a quarter of the
way through the song when I heard someone else start to sing along with me. It was a
man’s voice. I looked up, while I was singing, and I saw Joey. He was in a wheelchair on
the other side of the room, with his head bowed, singing along with me. I slowly went
over to him and we sang the song together. For that brief moment, he remembered every
lyric and every note.”
Rush smiled. “How amazing,” he said. “Maybe he’ll improve. Maybe they are
giving him medication to help him now.”
Cody shook his head. He took a deep breath and smiled. “I doubt it,” he said.
“While we were singing, even though his voice was perfect, he kept staring straight ahead.
My eyes were filled with tears. I was so happy to see him, my voice was shaking. But he
didn’t even know I was there. I was a complete stranger. And when the song was finished,
he lowered his head and stared down at his lap. I tried to get him to look up at me. I
wanted him to recognize me. I got down on my knees and begged. But it was as if he
wasn’t even there.”
Lance put his arm on Cody’s shoulder and said, “I’m afraid he’s not there. When I
talked to Harriet, she said there’s no hope for him. She also told me that’s why Anderson has been making those sensational erotic films in Europe. Joey had no insurance and they
really needed the money. Anderson didn’t have a choice. He had to make the films.”
Rush frowned. “Such a shame,” he said. “I think I can understand why Anderson
doesn’t return any phone calls now.”
Cody’s hands felt shaky and his mouth started to feel dry. This was the first time
he’d had a normal conversation with anyone outside the clinic in months. Lance must
have seen the confused expression on his face, because he stepped up to him and said, “I
have some news you might be interested in, Cody. It involves work.”
Cody turned and faced them. He tipped his head and asked, “What kind of news?”
He hadn’t thought about working for a while. He knew the press had reported all of the
events in his life, including his addiction to pills, and he wasn’t sure what all this had
done to his public image.
“All you have to do is think about it right now,” Lance said. “There’s nothing
definite yet.”
“What are you talking about?” Cody asked. Suddenly, his hands felt stronger and
a warm feeling passed through his body. He’d been so bored for the past month he would
have painted his room if they’d let him.
Lance smiled. “They are casting a new play in New York. It’s a musical called
Jump as High as You Can.
When I suggested you might be interested in the lead role,
they were very excited.”
Cody didn’t hesitate, and he didn’t stammer. “I want it, Lance. Please get it for
me. I’ve always wanted to go back to Broadway ever since that fucker, Radcliff Benson, had me fired.” He grabbed Lance’s jacket lapels and squeezed them. “Please get this for
me. I’ll do anything. I’ll work for free.”
Rush and Lance laughed. “Calm down,” Rush said.
“I’ve been calm for so long I’m not even sure I’m alive anymore,” Cody said,
releasing his grip from Lance’s lapels. “You have no idea what it’s like being in a place
like this.” He turned to Lance and said, “I’ll do anything to get this part.”
Lance laughed. “I’ll talk to them, and I’ll let you know,” Lance said. “But you’re
not
going to do this for free. And I want to be sure you’re ready to do something like
this.”
Cody grabbed his hand. “It’s what I’ve always wanted to do,” he said. “I know I
can make this a hit. Tell them I’ll work harder than I’ve ever worked in my life. Tell them
I’m through with booze and drugs and all I care about now is my career.”
Chapter Twenty
When the last porn film,
One Hundred Man March,
was finished shooting,
Anderson didn’t even bother to watch the clips before it went into production. He’d been
in Paris for so long he was starting to forget what Joey’s handsome face looked like. The
producer told Anderson he had ideas for other projects and he wanted Anderson to star in
them. But Anderson refused. He knew what he’d already done with this series of films
could not be repeated, he didn’t want to make porn a full-time career, and he wanted to
go home to America and live a quiet, simple life. He had enough money to last for the
rest of his life.
To ensure that nothing would happen to Joey if something happened to him,
Anderson had a legal will drawn up and left everything he had to Harriet. He even took
out a large life insurance policy and made Harriet the beneficiary. He left nothing to his
mother. He knew the only person in the world who would look out for Joey was Harriet.
He trusted her with complete confidence.
On his way back to San Francisco, he stopped in New York for a few days. He
wanted to see a few old friends and he wanted to be examined by his old doctor. He
hadn’t been feeling well for a weeks. His eyelids were always heavy, there were painful
pulls in his abdomen, and his skin color was off. In bright sunlight, he looked almost
yellow. He had no appetite and he couldn’t sleep without taking dudes. His two worst
fears were hepatitis and HIV/AIDS, and he wanted to be tested. Although the actors he’d
had sex with in the films had used condoms, he knew accidents happened all the time. He’d taken a few serious chances for the sake of making money. And he’d been fucked
by more than five hundred and fifty different men in those films.
He only remained in New York for two days. He’d planned to stay a week, but he
was restless and eager to see Joey again. The doctor arranged for him to have a series of
tests as quickly as possible, including a few tests Anderson hadn’t even considered.
When the doctor heard his symptoms, he said it was better to be safe than sorry. So
Anderson agreed to have the tests, then took the next flight out to San Francisco to see
Joey.
But when he arrived at the clinic, Joey was having a bad day. He didn’t recognize
Anderson at all. He just sat in his wheelchair picking scraps of food off his plate and
tossing them across the room. He mumbled foul words and spoke obscenities that made
Anderson blush. Joey had never used foul language; he’d ignored people who did. When
Anderson went to touch his arm, he shouted, “Don’t touch me. I’m not a fag. Don’t
fucking touch me. I hate fucking fags.”
Anderson released his arm. He wound up sitting in a chair that afternoon for four
hours by Joey’s side. He watched Joey closely, praying Joey would just remember him
for a second. But it didn’t happen. By the time Anderson stood up to leave, the nurse
came into the room and gave Joey a shot to help him sleep. Anderson kissed the top of
his head and said, “I love you. I’ll be back tomorrow.” Joey ignored him.
After that, he checked into a small hotel not far from the clinic. His legs felt heavy
and the pain in his abdomen was getting stronger. He brushed it off as stress, ordered
room service, and took a hot bath to calm his nerves. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get the image of Joey’s mean, empty expression out of his head. Joey’s eyes had
been blank—they’d reminded him of the vacant eyes of a feral cat.
When got out of the tub and brushed his teeth, he saw deep, dark circles beneath
his own eyes. When they delivered his dinner he removed the lid and made a face. The
smell of the steak turned his stomach and the sight of the salad made him want to heave.
So he put the food aside and got into bed. He pulled up the covers and turned on
the television. By accident, he caught the tail end of a talk show. Cody was the guest and
he was talking about a new Broadway show he was getting ready to do. Cody hadn’t
changed in that respect. He was always ready to promote before the project even got
under way. Anderson laughed and rubbed his aching stomach. He smiled when he saw
how good Cody looked and that he was ready to move on with his life after he’d been
through so much pain and suffering.
A few minutes after that, his cell phone rang. Anderson reached for it without
looking at the caller ID and said, “Hello?”
It was his doctor in New York. It was still early there. “I’m afraid I have some
bad news,” the doctor said.
“What is it?” he asked. “Do I have AIDS?” This had been his worst fear.
The doctor hesitated. “No,” he said. “You tested negative for HIV/AIDS. You
tested negative for all transmittable diseases. But when they did the full body MRI they
found a large mass on your pancreas. This is why you’ve been experiencing pain and
jaundice.” He did what most good doctors did. He told Anderson the truth without
hesitating. Anderson tilted his head. He hadn’t expected anything like this. “I see,” he said.
“And what does this mean?” But he already knew what it meant. He just wanted to hear it
from the doctor. He knew a few people who had had pancreatic cancer. They’d all gone
through treatments and surgeries and now they were all dead. He’d heard that from the
time it was diagnosed, the patient usually had about six months left.
“I’ll recommend a good specialist in San Francisco,” he said. “Then you’ll consult
with him. It’s hard to give out details on the phone. Are you okay?”
Anderson’s voice remained calm. “I’m fine,” he said. Then he thanked the doctor
for calling him and said he’d wait to hear from him about the specialist. He turned off the
phone and stared down at his lap for a long time. He knew there was no cure for
pancreatic cancer, and the last thing he needed were more medical bills on top of all
Joey’s expenses. And if his body was going to be ripped open by surgeons and torn down
by chemotherapy, he wouldn’t be modeling or making films anymore.
When his cell phone rang a half hour later, he lifted it off the bed in slow motion.
