CONTINUED: Jimmy Bean 35 & 36

 “Miss?  This is Detective Fiore of the Utica Police.  Please step away.  I’m coming in.”

I finally brought my head all the way up, but my tears blurred my vision of the boy I had loved my whole life.  I wiped my eyes with the back of my hands, but still couldn’t bring him into focus.  Jimmy moved toward me and I realized the detective was opening the door.  I stepped back and in a moment let the man lead me out of the room.  How I wished I had one last look at Jimmy Bean.  His parents would choose a closed casket.

 

I saw Jimmy Bean one more time.  Last night, after lights out, he was at the foot of my bed.  Just standing there, looking at me.  I was embarrassed to be so old in front of him.  But as soon as I thought it, a glorious smile crossed his face.  It seemed to light up the room and I felt the warmth from it.  He began to fade away and I shouted, “No, let me come with you this time.”

“Soon,” was all he said, and then he was gone.

I lay there until dawn waiting for the daylight to creep through my window.  This is the first day I haven’t felt the old fear of knowing that death waited for me.  My fear got up and left.  Now I’m wishing for death to save me.  I read somewhere the end often comes at dawn.  I waited for Jimmy to come back and get me before the sun was fully up.

I sat in that god damned nursing home all morning waiting for Jimmy Bean on this first day of No Smoking.  I can’t believe the people who run this place have ever had a thought beyond their books and their rules.  “It's for your health,” the social worker told me.   Health?  We’re dying, for chrissakes! 

When they were all busy wheeling the cattle down to the cafeteria for lunch, I found  my boots.  They’re a little tight, but they fit pretty well.  I put on my heavy coat and just walked out the front door. No one saw me or stopped me. 

I’ve come down the driveway to the highway.  It’s snowing really hard and I can’t even see the Home behind me now, but across the road I can make out the neon beer sign in the window of the American Legion building.  I’m gonna put Jimmy Bean’s  twenty dollar bill on the bar and order a Calverts and ginger ale and get change for the cigarette machine.  Then I don’t know what I’m gonna do.  Order another Calverts, probably.  And wait.

 

The End

 

 

“Jimmy Bean” is mostly a true story, and for all I know could be completely true.  Mary was my mother.  To read more about Jimmy and Mary and how I came to write the story, click on the following link.  http://www.windsweptpress.com/jimmybeanpscript.htm