Numi had figured it all out as well. The tattoo I had seen on Eddie’s arm, the tattoo I had assumed had been Chinese characters, had, in fact, been the universal symbol for pi. So Numi and I had both solved the case, but both going at it from slightly different angles. I had been gone long that evening, longer than he had been comfortable with. He assumed correctly that I had gone to see Eddie on my own.
And Numi, with some forethought, had grabbed his own weapon before heading out.
God bless my friend.
Again.
I do not tell people that I am still dying. Yes, I might feel better, and, yes, I am in better spirits, but I can feel my body shutting down, one cell at a time. Numi, of course, likes to hear that I am feeling better, and so I tell him what he wants to hear.
My mother is visiting for the first time in years. She looks far older than I remember. She sits with her knees together and her hands in her lap and she only barely looks at me.
She’d surprised the hell out of me by showing up. She had, of course, heard about Eddie. No doubt from the police themselves, as the case had been a twenty-two-year-old cold case.
Numi is here, of course. Lounging on the balcony and reading a book and generally in good spirits. With my mother’s appearance, he politely excused himself.
Now, after some small talk, my mother turns to me. “Are you gay, Jimmy?”
“No,” I say. “One can have gay friends without being gay.”
“Has he ever tried to, you know…”
“Turn me gay?” I finish.
“Well, yes.”
Her eyebrows go up.
“Every chance he has,” I say. “It is, after all, every homosexual’s goal to turn straight men gay.”
“You don’t have to make fun of me, Jimmy. It was an honest question.”
“No, Mom,” I say. “He has been a tremendous friend through all of this.”
She nods and looks at her hands in her lap. “He has taken care of you through all of this?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.”
“It’s okay,” I say, and now I look away.
We are silent for a long time, longer than I am comfortable with, but she seems to be in no rush and so I wait it out. “I’ve made it no secret that I blamed you, Jimmy.”
I say nothing. Truth is, I couldn’t speak if I wanted to.
“I’ve been terrible to you, Jimmy.”
I take in as much air as I can. But it feels like only one lung is working. For the first time in a week, I can’t seem to catch my breath again. I keep fighting for breath, silently, as my mother continues speaking.
“I had to blame someone, and since the killer was never found, it was easy to blame you, and I did.”
I keep trying to breathe. I grip the arm of the couch.
“But that was wrong of me. Horrible of me. I lost two sons that day, and I’m so sorry, Jimmy.”
My lungs seem to be shrinking. I feel myself panicking now. A horrible feeling to not get enough air. So horrible. So messed up.
She reaches out and takes my hand, and I am certain it is the first time she has touched me in twenty-two years. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to forgive myself for putting you through this, Jimmy. It wasn’t your fault. It was never your fault—”
“It’s okay, Ma,” I say, but my voice sounds strangled.
She suddenly turns and faces me, alarm on her face. “Jimmy, are you okay?”
I sit forward and raise my arms, trying to open my lungs. I can’t speak as tears find my eyes. Tears always find my eyes when I can’t breathe.
“I…” But the words fail me.
“Jimmy…”
I try again and I keep trying until I finally say, “I can’t breathe, Ma.” And just saying that takes the last of my air.
“Oh, baby.”
And my mother does something that surprises the hell out of me, something that I have been hungering for seemingly all of my life. She grabs me and pulls me into her and holds me tighter than I’ve ever been held before, and as I feel her love for me wash over me, something amazing happens.
My lungs open and I suck in air, lungful after lungful, and I’m not very surprised to hear myself weeping into my mother’s shoulder as she rocks me there on my couch.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“You look good, cowboy,” says Mary.
I laugh, although that causes a great pain in my chest. She’s been around Numi enough to pick up on my friend’s terms of endearment.
The past two weeks have been rough on everyone I know, especially Numi. He is in the living room with my mother and Detective Dobbs. I can hear them talking quietly. Mary is sitting at my side.
“I look as good as a dead man can look,” I say.
I’d been bedridden for the past two days. Numi had called my mother and Mary, and all three had been here throughout those days. Detective Dobbs had only swung by today. No other friends came. I didn’t want anyone else here.
“You shouldn’t say that,” she says, and tries to smile down at me.
“Life sucks, you know,” I say. “Here I fall in love with the girl of my dreams, and I only get to be with her a few times.”
“Twice, if I recall.” And she pokes me in the belly. Yes, she and I had rekindled what we had started a few weeks ago, making love for the second time. A session that had nearly wiped me off the face of the earth.
“I love you,” I say, and mean it. It is the first time I have told a woman that I love her. At least, the first time that I meant it.
“I love you, Jimmy Booker. We need to get you better, young man. We have a whole life to live.”
I smile at her. It is a running joke we have. Truth is, there is no getting better to me. I’ve seen the signs, and so has Numi. I’ve declined hospice. Or, rather, Numi declined. Truth was, I didn’t need hospice care, not with Numi there every step of the way.
Earlier in the week, I’d gone through what is called a pleurodesis to help my breathing. The procedure helped some, but not enough. Still, I am grateful for those who have been there for me, especially the doctors, although, admittedly, if I never see another doctor again, I will die happy.
Or so I joke. Numi doesn’t like that joke.
Two days ago, I finally admitted to Numi that I had to stay in bed. He didn’t want to hear that, either, but only nodded and helped me into my sweats, and then into bed. He brought me food and drinks, but I wasn’t hungry or thirsty. I declined his offerings, and not too long after that, a deep chill came over me.