Part 12

“It’s okay, Lee. She is okay. She looks beautiful. They took a good care of her.”

“I still can’t believe it. We made that decision when we were young. When we were still strong. We wanted to be thoroughly gone, transmuted from organic sack to the inorganic ashes. We wanted to make sure we wouldn’t have maggots crawl from our eyes. Now I want her to stay as long as possible. I want her mummified.”

“Jesus. Thanks for that image, Lee. I never thought of that. I’ve just decided to be cremated. I won’t have any damn maggots crawl out of my eyes.”

“Thank you, Andy. You’ve been a true friend.”

“I promised to be the man for the day, so here I am.”

“Thank you.” Lee smiled.

They held hands.

***

After the funeral, they sat in a quiet steak house with a few elderly patrons who sat afar and dressed in luxury suits, dresses, and jewelry, and their Bentleys and Rolls-Royces parked behind the nineteenth century stone building. Surrounded by dark oak wall panels, Lee and Andy sat at a table set with polished silver cutlery and a crisp tablecloth. A soft sound of a piano filled the air, and large chandeliers emanated dim light. The mood was measured, quiet, and so were the well-dressed, solemn waiters.

“I do not speak French,” said Lee with a tinge of embarrassment and his eyes on the single sheet menu printed on thick linen paper.

“I guess you’ll have a steak, no?”

“Yes.”

“Then just pick anything called bifteck. I see three of them.”

“You are clever, Andy.”

“I told you I’m the man today. That, and I speak a bit French.”

“Thank you, Andy.”

The waiter brought a bottle of wine and a diet Coke, took their orders, and walked away.

“Did you just order tofu and a salad in one of the best steakhouses in the city?”

“I’m a vegetarian.”

“Of course you are.” Lee smiled.

Lee drank his wine and poured some into Andy’s Coke.

“What are you doing?” whispered Andy looking around like a criminal. “I’m underage.”

“I thought you were all about breaking rules.”

Andy relaxed, sat back, and drank with a smirk. “It tastes like cherry Coke.”

“It was my wife’s favourite drink. Girl’s drink for a girl.”

“Screw you. I’m the man today.”

They laughed and drank.

“I saw your notepad in the hospital. You have some great drawings in it. The hunched man in a suit sitting on the bed – was that me?”

“Yes.”

“And the drawing of your wrists. That’s a great one, too.”

“Thank you. I’m an artist. You should see some of my paintings on canvas. I would show you if I just had my phone. One of them got like fifty socials, and it’s not even my best. I’ll be part of a student exhibition in June. I’m going to be big soon. I know it.”

“I hope you do, Andy.”

“I don’t need hope, man. It’s gonna happen.”

“Just make sure to be ready to pay the dues.”

“What dues?”

“No matter what you do in life, there are always dues. James Baldwin said it somewhere.”

“Nah. I’m going straight to New York. My stuff is big. I’m top of my class.”

“That doesn’t matter. There are always dues, Andy. You don’t know you have to pay them. You possibly don’t even know what they are yet, but you must pay. We all do. Like I did.” Lee swallowed the wine. “I traded architecture to build life with my wife. I settled for engineering work. Then I traded my advancement for hers, just because she was so very smart and I knew my limits. Even she never quite made it as a woman in sciences. Then we both traded most potential wealth for a child; and when he died, we made a pact with the Devil and traded our souls to find solace from that pain; and the Devil took the souls and gave Harper cancer, so we had new regrets. We traded pain for more pain. The Devil’s gift is in that red box next to the whisky you like, sitting on a shelf in the looney bin. You always make sacrifices for what you love.”