“Hey, Cam,” I said. “It’s okay.”
“You jerk,” she said through tears, fishing desperately in her purse for a tissue.
“Yeah.”
Cam blew her nose and flopped down into a guest chair. She propped an elbow on the chair’s arm and rested her cheek against her palm. She sighed loudly.
“Y’know,” I said, “I don’t ever remember seeing you cry when we were married.”
“You weren’t dying then, you jerk.”
“True. But it almost seems as if you still love me.”
“Of course I still love you.” She dabbed the tissue again at her nose. “You jerk.”
“You just can’t be married to me.”
Another sigh. “No. I can’t. You’re a very hard guy to love, Michael. You’re like some kind of love black hole. Sucking everything into the void and giving nothing back.”
“Maybe I can change. My doctor says that the tumor might change my personality. Maybe it’ll be an improvement.”
Cam swallowed loudly and fought back another wave of tears. “Please … Why won’t you treat it?”
I said nothing, instead looking down at my hands and studying the orange hospital band on my wrist.
“Jennifer is terrified,” Cam continued. “She thought she was watching you die tonight. She was beside herself when she called me.”
“I’ll talk with my doctor tomorrow. He’ll give me some new meds to stop the seizures. Jennifer won’t have to see that again.”
“You’re not listening. You never listen.”
“Will you watch her tonight?”
Cam nodded. “Of course.”
We sat in silence for a few seconds. Cam stood and crossed the cubicle to my bed. She placed a hand on my cheek and leaned down. Then she kissed me gently on the forehead and embraced me, leaning awkwardly over the bed.
She tightened her grip and whispered, “You jerk.”
Terminal cancer isn’t all bad. Knowing you’re going to die gives you an amazing ability to prioritize. If you knew that you had only a finite amount of time left on earth, how much of it would you spend scrubbing your toilet? Or flossing? Since I’d heard my diagnosis, I’d done neither.
At least that’s how I rationalized to myself after the new CAT scan revealed that Bob had grown. Not a lot, but he had definitely grown. Tanner gave me his trademarked over-the-glasses look and told me that this wasn’t a good sign. Gee, Doc, thanks for the newsflash. He gave me a new antiseizure scrip and told me I could go home later that afternoon.
About an hour after Tanner left, a priest leaned into my room. He was a young Hispanic guy with dark, neatly trimmed hair. He smiled at me.
“Mr. Garrity?”
“That’s me.”
“I’m Father Sanchez. Your admittance papers said you were Catholic.”
“I guess that’s true. I was.”
He nodded and I spotted a rueful smile. “You mind if I come in?”
“I guess.”
He sat in the chair next to the bed and leaned his elbows on his knees. Jennifer must have listed a religious affiliation when they brought me in. I raised my eyebrows at him.
“Never better. That seems to be everyone’s favorite question lately.”
“That’s probably understandable. Considering.” He picked at a thread on his pressed black pants. “I take it that you’re not a practicing Catholic.”
“Well, y’know, practice makes perfect, and I’m not even close to perfect. So …”
“Do you want to talk about the tumor? I imagine that you’re dealing with a lot of emotions right now.”
“Thanks anyway, Father.”
“Sometimes it helps just to talk. Say things out loud.”
“Maybe later.”
He nodded again. “My name’s Luis. Luis Sanchez.” He stood. “I’m around if you really do want to talk later. The nurses can get in touch with me. I’m a good listener. I don’t judge. Please think about it.” He considered me for a long moment. “Facing your own mortality is a terrible situation. But, a blessing, too, in its own way. I think I can help you, as I’ve helped others. Please. If you don’t talk to me, I encourage you to talk to someone. I can even recommend a counselor, if you want.”
I swallowed, suddenly struck by almost the same words coming back at me that I’d spoken to Arlene about TJ. Father Sanchez offered a sad smile and a nod. Then he was out the door.
I turned and gazed out the window, my thoughts empty, like a vast, treeless tundra. My eyes eventually fixed on a line of dark purple clouds that were brewing on the horizon. The daily thunderstorm was coming early today.
At about six thirty Cam and Jennifer showed up and sprang me from the hospital. After a day eating hospital pabulum, I was ready for some actual people food. So we hit a Mexican place on the way home and I ordered a burrito grande with extra sour cream. I knew my colon would pay for the indulgence later in the evening, but it was worth it.
When we got home, my answering machine was blinking like a road barricade.
George Neuheisel was on there three times, getting more agitated with each successive message. I only had a week left before the concert tour. He needed a status tor Eli as soon as possible. He really needed to talk to me about the case. I erased them all.
Arlene left a message with Eddie Sommerset’s phone number and address. She also provided the name of Eddie’s best friend, who lived in an apartment on the south end of International Drive, between Sea World and Disney. I jotted down the info on a scrap of paper. Arlene also left me TJ’s private cell number. I had found a different number in the file that George had given me, but it was out of service. I wrote down the new number.
Big Jim left a message, too. Said he hadn’t been able to run the Mustang’s tag yet, but he would. He wanted to make sure I was okay.
No message from Becky, telling me she and Wayne were driving back from North Carolina. Jennifer probably never called. Good girl. When the messages were done, I poured myself a tumbler of bourbon and eased onto the couch, where Cam and Jennifer were watching TV.
Cam eyed the drink. “Is that a good idea with your new medication?”
“Seems like a good idea to me.” I took a sip. I looked over at Jennifer. “So, Jenn, have you been in your chat room today?”
“No. I’ve been with Cam or at the hospital since last night.”
I nodded. “So, you haven’t talked to Klubhopper anymore?”
“Club hopper?” said Cam.
“No,” said Jenn. “I didn’t even sign out last night. I just left her there by herself when the ambulance came. After a while, the system automatically times you out. She probably wonders what happened to me.”
I took another sip. “Why don’t you log in? See if you can find Klubhopper again.”
“Really? Okay. That was weird last night, huh?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Let me know what you find.”
“What are you talking about?” Cam asked. I explained the strange question about me during the chat session last night and that I believed it was related to a case I was working on. “A case?” said Cam. “You’re working on a case? I thought you quit.” I gave Cam the Reader’s Digest version of my current employment, skipping the car chase and the pointed pistol on I-Drive yesterday. She shook her head. “You really never cease to amaze. I don’t know if taking on a case like that is a good idea for you, what with everything going on, but I guess it’s better than sitting alone in your apartment, eating Twinkies.”
I nodded. As usual, Cam was right. I finished the bourbon and put the glass down, feeling the warm liquor seep into my arms, relaxing me. Relaxing Bob.
“I’ll go see if Jennifer’s having any luck,” Cam said, and left the room, clicking off the TV on her way.
I laid my hand absently on the side table, and it rested on the piece of paper with my phone messages. I picked it up. A moment later I was punching TJ’s cell number into my phone. I heard the warbling digital ringing.
“Hey, Dad,” Jennifer called from the other room. “Come here.”
TJ’s phone rang again and I knew he wasn’t answering. I stood and started toward Jennifer’s room. There was another ring and I was about to press the phone off when I suddenly heard TJ’s voice answer. I froze in Jennifer’s doorway.
“Hey, yo, this is TJ,” the voice said, and I realized that it was a recording. “I can’t answer my phone right now. I’m either rehearsin’ or sleepin’ or out clubbin’ or just plain chillin’. Leave your piece after the beep. God bless.”
The message was followed by a tone.
“Dad?” Jennifer said. “You coming?”
“Hi,” I said into the phone, looking at Jennifer. “This is Mike Garrity. I would really like to talk to you. Just talk. That’s all. Your mom gave me your number. She’s worried about you. Listen … I know what Eli did to you. But it’ll be okay. Just call me.” I left my number and then hung up.
“Who was that?” Jennifer said.
“Nobody.” I nodded at the laptop computer. “Any luck?”
“Yes and no. I poked into a couple of chat rooms, but she wasn’t logged in. So I searched the user profiles and found her. See? Klubhopperl. No real information except that she’s a fan of Boyz Klub. But it does list her IM address.”
“Instant messenger,” I said.
“Yeah. I can check if she’s online. If so, I can pop her to see if she wants to talk. Should I?”
“Go for it.”
“What are you going to say?” Cam asked.
Up until about thirty seconds ago, I had no idea. But now I had the beginnings of a plan.