“That’s just it. The doctors don’t really know. By their count, he should have passed away already. But every time I see him, he appears to have descended into a deeper level of Hell. It’s as if there’s no limit to the punishment he can handle.”
“I don’t see the point.”
“What point?”
“The suffering. If they can’t make him comfortable, then they should be able to let him go.”
He really wasn’t sure how he felt about Jena signing Ron’s death warrant. “Do you really mean that?” he asked.
“Is there no stopping his suffering?”
“Well, we’ve been through that a thousand times. He doesn’t want to die. And he says he doesn’t like to take so much pain medication. He says he wants to be able to remain lucid for our visits for as long as he can.”
“Shit! Is he some kind of a masochist? Tell him to at least take the drugs. Tell him to be comfortable. And if he’s so sure he won’t be coherent from here on forth, then say your goodbyes now. Hell, he’s already gone. You just haven’t admitted it yet.”
“Jesus! Some bartender you are.”
“I’m telling you the truth. Confronted with death, most people speak nothing but rubbish. The Taboo Effect…” she said.
“The what?”
“That’s what my mother called it when my father was dying; The Taboo Effect. It basically means that when it comes to taboo subjects, people tend to avoid the realities and talk a bunch of crap. This has the effect of making the situation a whole lot worse. The Taboo Effect… I never understood it when I was little. But I do now.”
“So, what’s the solution?”
“The solution? Who knows? I’m just a bartender.”
“You mean euthanasia? You mean you think he should check out?”
He watched her pour two more shots, before handing one to him and tossing hers back. He waited for her to set down her empty glass before he got his answer.
“It doesn’t matter what I want. It doesn’t matter what you want. Hell, it doesn’t matter what anyone wants. The only person’s opinion that counts in this equation is your brother’s. You need to relieve him of any guilt he may feel. You need to ask him what he wants,” she said.
He sipped his drink and thought for a moment before answering, “I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Then you’re being selfish.”
“I’m being moral,” he argued.
“Bullshit! Morals are for the living.”
“Ron is living.”
“Is he?”
* * * * *
As Abn took his seat at the dinner table, for the first time that day, he finally had to admit that his nerves were settling. Hours had passed since his activities with William at the hospice. No detectives had crashed into the house and arrested him. And Henry appeared to be pacified.
He’d spent much of the last few hours wondering what would have been worse? A visit from Henry, or a visit from the detectives. He had come to dinner still undecided on that matter. For the moment, he remained free. For the moment, he could eat dinner and enjoy life. Once upon a time, that alone would have been enough. But he’d changed since leaving Iraq. Everything had changed.
“What did you do this afternoon?” Jane asked as she ladled the food into Abn’s bowl.
Keeping his eyes on the stew, he didn’t hesitate with his prepared story. “I was at Michael’s house. We were studying and talking about next year.”
“Oh,” she said. “Is he disappointed you’ll be leaving? I know how close you two are.”
“He is my only real friend at school. Of course, he is disappointed. He has been crash studying every day for the past two years to catch up to me. But he will be at school for at least another year before he has a chance of getting into university.”
“I find that hard to believe. He’s one of the smartest young men I’ve ever met.”
“He didn’t have the advantage of the pre-education that I had.”
“He also didn’t have the disadvantages you had.”
“Maybe…”
He felt a degree of relief as the front door slammed shut and disturbed their conversation. Ed had finally arrived. He didn’t care about Ed’s condition today. Anything to hide behind; any distraction was welcome relief. Somehow, today, he felt as if his inner most secrets were exposed for all to see.
No drunken bellow accompanied Ed’s entrance into the dining room. Although Abn could see that he had been drinking just by the way he walked and the way he held himself; even by the color of his eyes. All of the signs were there. Only the soundtrack remained absent as Ed took a seat at the table and helped himself to the stew without so much as a hello.
“Did you take the chocolate to Ron today?” Jane asked.
“Of course I did,” Ed said between mouthfuls.
Abn watched as Jane and Ed exchanged the usual dinner table bickering. He felt glad that today had been Ed’s turn to visit Ron. Drunks tended to miss things. But was this the correct assumption? Ed’s mood appeared to insist that something was amiss. He didn’t seem to be his normal obnoxious self at all.
“Did I see you near the hospice this afternoon, Abn?” Ed asked.
Abn almost jumped out of his skin. His heart pounded in his chest. “What?” he managed.
“The hospice. Before my visit today, I thought I saw you on Owen Street,” Ed said.
“That is impossible. I was on the other side of town at Michael’s,” he said while feeling all too unsure if his reply sounded defensive or not.
“You must have a twin then. I’m sure it was you. And it looked like your bicycle.”
“I took the bus to Michael’s.”
“Oh…”
Dinner continued in silence. And as it did, he felt a sense of relief that Ed didn’t question him further. He considered himself good at hiding the truth. A lifetime of hardship had secured that skill. But for some reason, today, that skill had forsaken him. For some reason, all he wanted to do was to get back up to his bedroom and disappear into his sketchpad.
“Do you think he’s been taking his pain medication like I asked?” Jane said.
Ed chuckled as he replied, “We’re talking about Ron here. Do you really believe he’d do anything he doesn’t want to do?”
“That sounds more like you than Ron,” Jane said.
“If you haven’t noticed yet, him and I are cut from the same cloth,” Ed said.
“You didn’t answer my question,” she pushed with a sour expression.
“No,” Ed said.
“No, what?” she asked.
“No, he hasn’t been taking his pain meds. Or at least he hasn’t been taking enough of them.”
“My God! What are we going to do?”
“There is nothing we can do. The disease is taking its natural course. It will not be long now,” Abn said.
“How can you possibly know that?” Ed said, his tone bordering on anger.
“I look at his medical chart every time I go in to see him. I know,” Abn said.
Ed scoffed, “The same charts the doctors are looking at. The same ones that said he should have passed away weeks ago.”
“He should have passed away weeks ago. He is on… How do you put it? …borrowed time,” Abn said.
“Hell, how much time can a man borrow?”
“It will not be long.”
Ed opened his mouth to argue but was cut short by loud knocking at the front door.
Abn stood. “I will get it,” he said.
“No, you sit down and finish your dinner. I’ll get it. It’s probably for me anyway,” Jane said as she stood.
Sitting again, Abn continued to eat in silence. He could feel Ed looking at him. He paid him no attention. Sometimes Ed was like that while drunk. He would stare at people without speaking for what seemed like endless stretches of time. The act used to scare Abn. He couldn’t imagine what was happening inside of Ed’s mind. Though he felt sure that anger was in the mix there
somewhere.
“Abn, could you come into the kitchen for a minute?” Jane called.
Abn welcomed the interruption. Anything to get out from under Ed’s glare. “Coming!” he replied.
His relief evaporated the moment he stepped into the kitchen. The two detectives stood there, rain drops dripping off their coats and onto Jane’s perfectly clean floor.
“The detectives just want to ask you a couple of questions,” she said.
“What about?”
“They say there’s been another problem at the hospice and that you may be able to help them.”
“I will try. Although I do not know how.”
“Today, we had another death in the hospice,” said Detective Bell.
“It is a hospice. Is death there a surprise?” Abn asked.
“It is when the boy who died was poisoned,” Bell said.
“Oh… Okay.”
“We would like to know where you were between the hours of two and five this afternoon?” Bell said.
“Jesus Christ! You’re really questioning my son in relation to another death at the hospice?” Jane asked.
“Murder, Mrs. Morrison. It was a murder,” Bell said.
“Jesus! Where do you get the nerve? Abn, you don’t need to say another word to the detectives if you don’t want to. I think it’s high time I put my lawyer onto them,” Jane said.
Abn felt surprised how upset Jane appeared. He still found it difficult to believe that anyone would make any effort to protect him. “You do not need the lawyer. I was at Michael’s this afternoon. Why do you need to know?” he said while levelling a calm look toward Bell.
“Someone matching your description was seen leaving the hospice around the time of the murder. We only want to make sure that all of our bases are covered,” Bell said with a defensive glance at Jane.
“I was not there this afternoon. I was with my friend Michael.”
The look in Bell’s eyes demonstrated that he was anything but convinced. “Can we call Michael? The sooner we do, the sooner we can be out of your hair,” he said.
Abn pulled his cell phone from his pocket and twisted his best don’t worry look in Jane’s direction. He didn’t wait for consent. Putting the phone on speaker, he dialed Michael’s number and waited under the detectives’ tempestuous glares.
“Abn, how are you?” a voice answered after the fifth ring.
“Hi Michael. Good, and you my friend?”
“Buried under a mountain of study.”
Abn chuckled lightly. “I will not keep you. I just have some people here who want to know that I was at your house with you this afternoon,” he said.
“Hmm, sounds mysterious. Anything I should know about?”
“Nothing important.”
“Are we on speaker phone?”
“Yes. They are here listening.”
“We would just like to know what time Abn arrived at your house and what time he left?” Bell said.
There was no hesitation in Michael’s voice as he answered, “Hello, mysterious listener. Abn arrived to help me study at about two and he left shortly before six.”
“And what were you two doing out of school?” Bell asked.
“Exams are over. We don’t have many days left where we need to be at school,” Michael said.
“If exams are over, then why were you studying?” Bell asked.
“Because I’m working right through the holidays. Because, I’m trying to catch up to Abn.”
Abn noticed Bell opening his mouth to ask another question, but he closed it again, as if he’d changed his mind.
“Thank you, Michael. That will be all,” Bell said after some time had passed.
“See you tomorrow,” Abn said.
“Two o’clock again?” Michael asked.
“Perfect,” he said and then he hung up.
He waited while Bell scribbled down something on his notepad. Detective Boar remained as impassive as ever at Bell’s side. Stony faced and unreadable, Abn wondered why he was there at all. He never seemed to offer any help to his partner.
“Satisfied?” Jane said, as Bell finished writing.
“For the moment,” Bell said, looking up.
Abn followed his mother to the door as they walked the detectives out. And as the door closed and she turned to face him, he could tell by the look in her eye that she wasn’t happy. “What is wrong?” he asked.
Her shoulders deflated as she answered. “Oh, I don’t know. I just thought that I’d left this kind of thing back in Texas.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that when something goes wrong, the law just reaches for the nearest Muslim.”
“I am not Muslim.”
“I know that and you know that, but in their eyes, you may as well be.”
He felt sad that she felt that way. He knew how much she hated racism. “I do not care what they think about me. Now, let us get back to our dinner,” he said.
“Sounded like trouble,” Ed said.
“No trouble at all. They just had another death at the hospice today and they’re doing their usual routine investigation,” Jane said.
“Routine, huh,” Ed said.
“Someone fitting Abn’s description was seen leaving the hospice about the same time as the death. They just wanted to confirm Abn’s whereabouts,” Jane said.
“You mean murder?” Ed corrected.
“Yes,” Jane agreed with some reluctance.
They continued eating in silence. Abn could tell that Ed’s mind was working overtime throughout the meal, but he didn’t voice any of his thoughts. He felt sure that Ed was holding something back. He just didn’t know what it was.
* * * * *
His bike at his side, Abn waited for a gap in the traffic before he crossed Hill Street to Michael’s address. Things were busier at this end of town. But he guessed the location was convenient for Michael’s father, who worked for the British High Commission not but five doors away.
“Hey rag head! Where’s your camel?” called a voice.
Turning his attention from the road, he found Jeremy accompanied by two of his favorite cronies standing right behind him. “Jeremy,” he managed.
“I thought all you camel jockeys got from A to B on your camels. So where is it?”
“I do not have a camel.”
“Yes, you do. Everyone knows that.”
“No, I do not.”
“What? Are you calling me a liar?” Jeremy said as he took one step closer.
“No.”
“I don’t know what you sand niggers do when someone calls you a liar, but this is what we do down here.”
Abn didn’t anticipate the punch. Jeremy’s right fist flew at his face out of nowhere with blinding speed. The next thing he knew he was on the ground. Chuckles and laughter erupted above him as he waited for kicks to follow. They never came.
“Have a nice sleep, sand monkey. We’ll see you again soon,” Jeremy said with laughter filling his words.
Through his good eye, Abn watched as Jeremy and his friends made their departure, laughing amongst each other as they went. With his temple throbbing, he shuffled to his feet and dusted himself off. It wasn’t the first time he’d taken a punch and he felt pretty sure it wouldn’t be the last. His only consolation was that he wouldn’t have to go back to school to face Jeremy the following year. Jeremy would have to find someone else to bully.
Collecting his fallen bicycle, he turned back to the traffic. He was just in time to see a bus force a gap. He dashed across the street before the flow resumed. Locking his bike to the handrail at the bottom of the stairs, he then climbed his way to Michael’s front door. The door, like the rest of the house, gave off an imposing impression. At least ten feet high, its native timbers had been fortified with belts of iron. A castle couldn’t offer a better entrance.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Morrison,” said a voice as the door opened to reveal a man who filled its frame perfectly.
&
nbsp; “Good afternoon, Mr. Jenkins,” Abn said. “I’m here to see Michael.”
“Of course you are, Sir. Right this way,” Jenkins said.
The formality of the butler had taken some getting used to when he and Michael had first become friends. He hadn’t known what a butler was before that. And even now as he followed Jenkins through the house, he wondered at how alien this experience felt compared to how he’d grown up.
A giant crucifix at the top of the stairs seemed to further galvanize the intimidation of Michael’s home. Ten feet tall, emblazed with a bleeding Jesus, it looked down upon all who came before it. Not being intimidated by its presence was next to impossible. And Abn was no exception.
“Mr. Morrison here to see you, young Michael,” Jenkins said as he opened the bedroom door.
“Thank you, Jenkins,” Michael said as he came to the door.
“Is there anything I can get for the two of you?” Jenkins asked.
“Some tea would be good, thank you,” Michael said.
“Of course, Sir.”
“Jesus, man. What happened to your eye?” Michael said as he appraised Abn’s appearance.
“It is nothing.”
“It’s a shiner worthy of the professional boxer is what it is.”
“It is not that bad?” he said, suddenly feeling worried about what Jane would think when she saw him.
“Jenkins!” Michael called at the top of his voice.
“Yes, Sir,” Jenkins said, appearing at the door again.
“Could we also have an icepack please?”
“Of course, Sir.”
“So, what happened?” Michael asked as Jenkins left.
“My face was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“No, really, what happened?”
“It was just Jeremy blowing off steam with his friends.”
“Blast that scum! And blast him for living so close by to me. That alone is insulting enough. But when he lashes out at my friends… Well…”
“Do not worry about me. I can take care of myself. And besides, we will not be seeing each other after this year,” he said in an attempt to cool Michael’s furry.
Michael’s expression showed that he wasn’t at all convinced. “Well, all right then, come on in,” he said.
THE LIFE LEFT: A GRIPPING PSYCHOLOGICAL THRILLER Page 10