Funus Advena
 

AND NOW A WORD FROM GIZZIE...

Martha comes on usually an hour before shift to catch up on the charts and check the paperwork, see who's in house tonight.

It's 6:30, she's on in half an hour, and no sign of her. This is weird.

Unless something happened with Daniel...but she would've called. Besides, something's always happening with Daniel lately, and none of it's good. He doesn't know her anymore. He's in constant pain. I know this because she's asked me if I can get her some extra Dilaudid for him. Martha, who's probably never broken a damn rule in her life, is trying to scam narcotics any way she can so her husband can suffer as little as possible.

I try, but I have to be careful. We all do. A lot of the docs on our floors are aware of the situation, and they will write an extra scrip or two, but our stupid fucking government is so goddamned concerned that anybody who ever got a shot of morphine will turn into an addict that it's real hard to do. As if anybody who's terminal and in agony gives a fuck about getting addicted.

Besides, the clinical evidence shows that people in that much pain don't get addicted anyway, but why listen to facts when you can get hysteria going?

Let me tell you something. I'm a nurse. I save lives. That's my damn job. And I'm good at it. I'll bust my ass to make sure you get better. I'll do all I can on earth and in heaven to make sure you're comfortable and that you've got every chance to walk off my floor, never to return again.

And usually, I can do it. I've pulled some people back from circling the drain that everyone was sure were going to just go down the tubes. And they've left, happy and healthy and ready to worry about petty stuff again. Which is really the stuff of life.

But sometimes, there's no fucking hope left. All the stars have burned out in the sky. All that's left is pain, and suffering, and futility. I'm sorry, I can't tell you exactly what life is-who the hell can?-but I can tell you what it's not.

What Martha's husband, and she, are going through, this is not life. This is a sort of waking death. For them both.

I live near her. I've been in her home. I've seen Daniel. My husband has seen Daniel.

More than once have I been tempted to reset his PCA pump...and let him go quietly into that good night. Quietly is the best he can hope for at this point. Dignity? We're well beyond that.

And the thing is, she's got another chance. Another shot at life and happiness. She just doesn't know it yet.

I think I was the only person she ever told about her second job. Yes, as Martha the phone sex operator. When she first told me, I nearly busted a gut...but I know why she did it. She and Daniel, they're damn near bankruptcy. The economics of illness are among its more terrifying aspects.

And then she got busted. So far, nobody in the hospital knows about this. And I intend to keep it that way. I may have a reputation as a loudmouth, but loud is as far as it goes. I don't divulge secrets. And I have lots of them.

That hideous night might well have been the turning point in her life. She was actually bailed out by-get this!-a client. Her last client before the raid, in fact.

And she hasn't been able to concentrate on anything else since.

I know what you're thinking. She's a lonely, overworked, desperate woman.

Yeah, she's all those things. But she's Martha. Which means she's a loyal wife, determined, sturdy, and proud. And by the way, she's a damn good nurse herself.

All I know is that his name is Melvin. That he's a gentleman, and very kind, and that he brought her pussywillows one day. As a friendly gesture, of course.

Sure. And I'm a one-legged rhinoceros.

I know how much she loves Daniel-Christ, would most of us have the strength to stand by someone who's put them through that much hell? I don't know. I look at my own husband, whom I love like crazy, and I wonder.

How much sooner would I have given him the injection? The one that would relieve his suffering...

The one that would end his life.

The one that would give me back mine.

He's often said that's what he would want. He wouldn't want me going through what Martha has been through. And he wouldn't want to suffer in the way Daniel is.

Nobody should ever have to go through that. It's a fucking crime, if you ask me.

I don't know. Past few weeks, Martha's gotten a new look in her eyes. She doesn't seem quite so tired. There's a touch of color in her cheeks. She smiles more.

She isn't even aware of it, but I sure as hell am.

If I say his name, she blushes, in the way you blush when you're 15 and in love for the first time. And I've actually heard her giggle. Martha, giggling. I've worked with her for five years, and I can tell you, she is NOT a giggler.

She says there is nothing between them.

Uh-huh. Sure.

I know as long as Daniel lives and somewhat breathes, she won't pursue this.

I have the keys to the narcotics cabinet. I have made a decision.

I will not do this act tonight. I have to be very careful. We all do.

I begin the act of stockpiling. I've already got enough potassium chloride, which is not controlled in inventory nearly so carefully, to stop his heart. It doesn't take much. But you don't just shoot someone up with KCl. It's pretty fucking painful. So you let them slide into gentle sleep, sleep they cannot and will not wake up from.

I quietly slip an ampule of morphine sulfate into my scrub pants pocket. I can't do this every night, but soon, there will be enough.

I will not be the one to give the injection. It's not my decision to make.

But I'd like to give Martha the option.

I'd say at this point, it's about even money that she takes it.
 

LANGLY:

We're always quiet on the drive to Chesapeake Bay.

It's really pretty tonight heading out that way. Sun's going down, sky is pink, and Ally looks beautiful. Miranda put some copper dye in her hair, and she looks, well, totally hot.

She looks over at me and smiles every once in a while. Right now she's smoking a Marb, we pass it back and forth, like you do in high school.

That's a pretty funny thought, particularly if you consider that day after tomorrow, she's 46 years old. I'm 38, high school's been a long time away for both of us.

We've done some real high school stuff on this beach, though. I remember night before our wedding, we went on there, did some fooling around just like you do when you're 17.

We done some stuff out here that wasn't real high school stuff, either. Like after we lost our first baby, a girl. We came out here and cried about her and I think it might've helped. We didn't know it was a girl at the time, but I found it out later.

I don't know why, but instead of making me feel worse, I think knowing made me feel better. It was like I could put a sort of identifier on her. Made it easier to say goodbye.

We didn't come out here after we lost our second one. A boy. We've said Kaddish for him.

I would've liked to have seen these kids. I don't know how Ally'd have done with four kids, but I could've done it.

Oh, sure.

All the while, I think, I'd like Scott back. I'd like to know him. Have him maybe even be my brother.

But that ain't gonna happen, folks.

Still, he left me the best part of him. Patrick.

I promise Scott silently that I'll do a real good job with him. I'll do the best I can.

We're here.
 

Scott took me to this beach one time before he disappeared. I always remembered the way, and I've been coming here since I could drive.

My favorite memory here? Ally and me for the first time, right here in this spot.

I mean, I know we're here to say bye to Scott. And we will.

But I'm thinking, Scott was always twisted...he might appreciate that as part of the sendoff.

"Hey Langly." Ally's a little bit ahead of me. I watch her pad through the sand barefoot. She's got on this long flowy black skirt and it brushes the sand when she walks.

I wonder if she's got the black slinky lingerie on under it. I like that set. And, it's easy to get off.

"Yeah?"

"Know what today is?"

"Sixth of August?"

"Very good. You actually read your desk calendar. And?"

"Two days till your birthday?"

"Wow, you remembered. I'm impressed. And?"

Is this a test? Because I'm gonna bomb, I just know it.

"Um...wellll...you got me."

She giggles. "Langly, you are such a guy. You proposed to me on this date, two years ago."

Oh yeah.

It was today?

"In Vegas. Remember?"

Well, I do remember celebrating it...does that count? I seem to recall the celebration involving lots and lots of tequila...I think I was hung over most of the weekend, except for when I was drunk.

"Yeah." There's also big chunks of that weekend I'd like to forget...like getting the phone call from Miranda, and trying to fly home in a hurry, and losing my glasses...

"Hey Ally. You like my new glasses?" She didn't say if she did. Or not.

She wraps her little arms around my waist, she's so much shorter than me, and she taps my nose with her first finger on her left hand.

"They remind me...of the man I fell in love with." She smiles. Her hair's like shiny copper in the fading light.

"That good or bad?"

She giggles again. "Langly, you dope! A good thing, of course." She stands on her tiptoes so we can kiss.

It's a hell of a kiss. Just like the first one we had on this beach.

We don't break it for a while. When we finally do, she gives me this real bright smile. Luminous.

"I don't tell you often enough Langly, but I love you so much."

It's true. She doesn't say it a lot. Guess I don't, either. Maybe we should try saying it more.

"Love you." Another kiss. Better even than the last one.

We both stare at the box of ash near our feet. "Guess we better send Scott off, eh?"

She just nods, doesn't say anything.

I carry the box down to the water, where we just stand there without our shoes for a while. Water's warm right now. Feels nice.

Now I remember when Scott took me here. Back when I was ten. The water was warm, just like tonight, and we just stood here. Just like Ally and me are doing now.

This is kind of weird. I already thought Scott was dead all these years. Finding out he wasn't was, well, bizarre.

But he was dying. I really didn't have time with him. Didn't know him. Wasn't even sure I wasn't still pissed at him.

I'm still not sure. But I do have Patrick. That more than makes up for a lot of stuff.

And obviously he must've thought about me a lot...he wrote me a lot of e-mails, even though I didn't know he was my brother. And Patrick's my middle name. I do remember him saying no way was he going to name the kid Ringo.

Well, he did have that going for him.

I don't put him in the water yet. Because once I do, I'm alone. I'm the last sib. Joanie's gone. I had to let her go. Letting Scott go is different, but I'm still not sure I'm ready to do it. Quite yet.

Ally slips her arm around my middle again. "Langly, we don't have to do this, you know. At least not tonight."

"Yeah, but we can't leave him lying around the house. I already found Motley trying to open the box."

She giggles. Again. "That cat is evil."

And I'm not sure when I'll ever be ready to do it. I don't know that anyone ever is.

We wait a few more minutes, we let the water and sand wash over our feet. The bottom of Ally's skirt's wet, but I don't think she cares.

The moon's coming up, big and fat and yellow. Ally looks so incredible in this kind of light. You can see how blue her eyes are. Lots bluer than mine. Her family, their eyes don't look like water. They're real blue.

"You ready?" she asks me real soft.

"Think so." No time like the present.

I open the lid. I haven't looked in the box before. I'm kind of expecting it to look like ash, but it's more like little seashells. Some good sized chunks in there, too. Weird.

This is what's left of Scott Langly.

Sorry I didn't know you, dude. But I'll take good care of your kid. I promise.

I turn the box over and let the white crumbs fall into the water. Ally softly starts chanting Mourner's Kaddish. I join her. I'm not Jewish. Never will be. Ally'd never ask me to convert. But I'm kind of hooked into the rituals now. This is as close as I'll ever get to tradition.

We do it in Hebrew first-yeah, I know it now. Said it enough times these days. Then we say it in English. I like the translation.

And say you, Amen.

Or as Captain Picard would say, make it so.

We watch for a long time, me holding her and her holding me, as we watch the waves carry Scott out. Pretty soon, no sign of him. He's left us.

I don't know how I feel at this moment. I think most of what I feel is regret. Like I couldn't know him. He couldn't be my brother.

But I guess I could still be his. I mean, after all, he trusted Patrick to me.

I turn to Ally. Wind blows her pretty hair and her soft skirt.

"Whaddya say, Ally? Should we send Scott off in style?"

"I think so."

We take hands and walk back to the shore.
 

We always bring the same blanket. Used to be Ally's earthquake blanket when she was a Cali girl. Now it's our beach blanket. It's getting kind of ratty, but we'll probably keep it till it disintegrates.

We've lit up one of Scott's joints. I had five left from when he died.

"God, this is good stuff," Ally's like hoarse, she smokes but we haven't really done dope together. "Wonder who his supplier is."

"Wish I knew." And I do. But right now, don't think I want to risk scoping that out.

Not gonna keep me from enjoying what he left behind, though.

"Langly honey, I have to ask you. Did he leave a will?"

"I dunno. Haven't been back to his place."

"Don't you think we should find out?"

"Why? Don't think he had much."

"Langly, I'm not thinking of stuff...I'm thinking about Patrick. If he's got it in writing that Patrick is to be in our care and custody, it's going to simplify things."

This isn't enough to kick off the buzz I'm getting, but it does make me sit up a bit.

"Think the police took it all after he died."

"We should be able to get it released now. His body's been released. The autopsy is closed. The police file is probably closed."

"Not. It's unsolved."

"Langly, I don't know why, but I don't think they want to solve this."

She's probably right.

They may consider it closed. I don't.

So much undone. Sheridan. Nathanson. Yeah, I hated the bastard. But that he's like...all of a sudden, he goes to lunch one day, never comes back...and nobody says boo, I think that's bizarre.

And Joanie. I gotta go through her stuff. I haven't been able to do it so far.

Now I got no excuse.

I have to do this.

We do a few shotguns with the remainder of the joint. It's more fun with Ally than it was with Scott. But okay, Scott needed it. And I'm glad I could do at least that for him.

She snuggles into me and I pull her in close. She's warm and tiny and I love her so much.

Two years ago I asked her to marry me. So much has gone down since then. More than should happen to anybody in 20 years, forget about two.

But she's smiling right now, and I don't think it's just the dope.

She grabs two beers from the cooler. Dos Equis. She pops the tops and hands one to me. Left handed. My southpaw Ally. It's kind of fun to watch her do stuff. Looks so different from what righties do it like.

Left hands. Site for wedding rings. I notice I've gotten used to mine. I don't play with it so much anymore. When I first had it, it was like this big chunk of metal and felt so heavy and big.

Now it's like it's part of my hand. I never take it off. Ally never takes hers off, either.

I am my beloved, my beloved is me.

"Ally, you ever feel like, well, like, we sort of like are under each other's skin?"

She laughs. "All the time. All the time. I can't imagine life without you."

"Even with all the crummy stuff that's gone down?"

"Especially with all the crummy stuff that's gone down."

"I would've liked to have had kids with you."

She smiles. "Langly, I couldn't love Patrick more if I pushed him out myself. And I don't think you could, either." Then she frowns. "But we need to make certain that we are in order with him. It's one of the reasons I hesitated to take him to the hospital last week, Langly. I don't want a lot of questions raised in regard to his provenance. I think it's better if not many people know about Scott."

Definitely. I'm not sure why, but somebody sure the hell was after him.

I have a horrible thought. What if somebody comes after Patrick?

No way. What the fuck would they want with a four-year-old boy?

She looks at me sharply. "You okay, babe?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Long day."

"Oh, yeah." She sips her beer. "I was trying to find a nursery school for Patrick-"

"Not sure that's such a hot idea right now, Ally girl."

She looks at me a little suspiciously, but loses the look in a hurry. "Doesn't look like I'm going to be able to find him one, at least not one I can live with. Only ones I can find are all church-run ones. I don't know what I'm going to do when I start school in a few weeks."

I feel my heart sink. I was kind of hoping she'd put it off.

"And it'd be one thing if these were just regular nursery schools, but these...they start indoctrinating these kids early on."

"You had him in Jewish preschool for a little bit, Ally."

"Different, Langly. Reform Jewish. Not Orthodox. And excellent care."

"Ally, lemme ask you: are you wanting to raise him as a Jew?"

She contemplates that one carefully. "Langly...I'm not attempting to bring him up as anything in particular. But these are my traditions. I'd like to share them with him. Just as I do with you. As he gets older, what he does with that, it's up to him."

"You didn't give Miranda a choice."

"Actually, we did. After she was Bat Mitvah'd, we left it up to her."

"She likes the holidays."

"You like them, too."

That's true. Jewish holidays are fun. Even Yom Kippur, you get a great feast at the end. And you get to start over.

I want to tell her, can you maybe hold off on school for a while? They'll keep her berth for two years. She doesn't have to reapply if she starts within two years.

Patrick'll be six then. He'll be in first grade. Things will be better.

But tonight, I don't want to talk about it.

I just want to hold her.

I want her to hold me.

END OF PART 93