“He’s a smart kid,” I said.
“What is he going to do with the money?”
“I suspect he’ll give it away. That’s what he told me, anyway. His father’s care isn’t cheap, but other than that, I don’t see him blowing it on strippers and blackjack.”
“Then he’s missing out.” Big Lumpy smiled and I could see that his teeth had large gaps in them, a common side effect from intensive and long-ranging cancer therapy.
“Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here?” I asked.
“You owe me two hundred dollars, cash, for your brother.”
“I thought that was just in the game, Mark,” I said, using his real name to let him know I was onto him.
“A debt is a debt,” he said, “and I always collect.”
“I do want to keep my eyelids,” I said. I took out my wallet and pulled out all of the cash inside-it totaled sixty-seven dollars. “I’m going to need to owe you a hundred thirty-three dollars.”
He took my money, counted it and then stuffed it into his pocket. “We’ll call it even,” he said.
“How much time do you really have left?”
“Maybe I live out the year. But probably not.”
“So why fake your death?”
“I thought,” he said, “that I might live like a normal person for the rest of my days. And no one was going to let me do that as the ruthless Big Lumpy. So I’m back to being Mark McGregor for what I’m calling my coda. You should try it, Michael.”
“I’m already who I am,” I said.
“Really? Helping the helpless? That’s you?”
“It is now,” I said.
A nurse came into the waiting room and called Big Lumpy’s name, so I helped him out of his chair. “For how long do you intend to do this?” he asked
“As long as it takes,” I said. I extended my hand and Big Lumpy shook it weakly. “Enjoy the rest of your life.”
“I already have,” he said.
My mother came out a few moments later, a shoe in one hand, a cigarette in the other. “The doctor takes a perverse joy in my pain,” she said.
“I doubt it, Ma,” I said.
“I thought I heard you talking to someone. Was it that strange man in all white?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Who was he?”
Who was anyone, I thought. “His name,” I said, “was Mark McGregor. He was a bad guy. He was the one who got Brent in trouble with the Russians, in a roundabout way.”
“And you just let him go?”
“No,” I said. “He’s dead.”
