161 36 Iwent to visit Jimmy, but they wouldn’t let me in. I gave the flow ers to the se cur ity guard, who sort of held them out in front of him like a soiled di aper. “What am I sup posed to do with these?” “They’re for Jimmy, the guy in there.” I mo tioned with my head. “This is a morgue, sir.” “Well, you can give them to your girl friend if you want.” Hot po tato. I wasn’t car ry ing them home. I as sume he threw them in the trash, as mar i golds aren’t ro man tic enough for your girl friend. She might think you’re dump ing her. So all I really had was the pay phone. Other than those hourly phone calls, I just stayed in bed, star ing at Jimmy’s bike. Or rather, it stared at me. I’d prom ised, but I stalled, stayed in bed, grief-frozen. Wait ing. Wait ing for Jimmy. To tell me what to do. Even though he al ready had. Though the last thing he’d asked of me I hadn’t done. I hadn’t killed the man I loved. Jimmy’s father never called, of course, but Mo nique fi nally did. “Mr. Blake, I have some news for you.” “Yeah?” “Uh, Mr. Keane—your friend James—?” “Yeah?” 162 “He ac tu ally did the paper work. You don’t need to call his fam ily. He’s got it all taken care of. He filed all this six months ago.” And she read: “‘In the event of my death, I hereby re quest my body be dis posed of by cre ma tion.’ And he paid the fee.” Doing what needs to be done. “How much?” “Eight hun dred dol lars, Nep tune So ci ety.” “When you gonna do it?” “It’s done.” “What?” “Don’t worry. Day four. I held it up for you.” Dear Mo nique and her sweet sub ter fuge of the big ugly ac ro nyms of county govern ment. “Oh, thank you, thank you . . .” And I kept thank ing her to stave off the tears. I hung up be fore she shat tered me with the sweet honey of her voice. Mon day I had to go get him, the dust of him. Jesus Jimmy, to dust you have re turned. You didn’t take me with you, Jimmy, but I can still take you with me. Chat ter ing away, my soup and me on the bus with Jimmy in a card board box on my lap, like the sweet baby Jesus. I sat in the bay win dow on Guer rero Street with that box in my lap for a long time, look ing out at the pay phone, the cor ner liq uor store with its com fort ing, con stant golden light at night and in the rain, and at the aca cia tree next to it, buck ling the side walk. Too big, and I knew one day they’d come for it. They—like the col lec tive God in Gen e sis— and their giveth-ing and taketh-ing away. They got Jimmy, and they’re gonna want the tree and the liq uor store one day too—and they’ll come for the twins, who’ll soon get big, fear ful, and opin ion ated; and they’ll come for this big bay win dow on Guer rero Street like they’ll come for me. ...