James Ladd Thomas
NIAGRA
Irene unlocked the door then walked to the den at the rear of the home with Lester a couple of steps behind, passing through several rooms added on through the years, the house stretching deep into the backyard. When they reached the den and within eyesight of Toots, who sat in a chair next to a walker and wore jean shorts and a green long-sleeve henley, the old man called out to his daughter without turning towards her.
“You did manage to come home.” He cut Lester a sliver of a smile. “But you left the door open, a big rat came in behind you.”
“Hey, Mr. Toots. Are you excited? Just me today. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. This catheter won’t hurt a bit. The last one I inserted the guy only cried a few minutes.”
“You’re gonna kill me, ain’t ya?”
“I told him not to kill you yet,” said Irene. “I think we can get some more goody out of you.”
“I just watched Little Miss Sunshine again,” said Toots.
“No, get that out of your head, Daddy.”
“Irene’s not gonna score you any heroin, Mr. Toots. We’ve been through this a few times.”
“Okay, not the hard stuff. I knew that was a long shot. Your reluctance is duly noted. Don’t agree with it, just not right for a dying man, but I can live with that. At least for a few months. Just get me some nose candy.”
Irene and Lester stood facing Toots a few feet from the ottoman holding his legs.
“What do I say to this?” Irene asked Lester.
“You say yes,” said Toots.
“Why do you keep bringing this up?” asked Irene.
“Because I’m dying. Let me make it clear. D. E. A. T. H. Everyone in this damn room knows that fact, that I’ll be worm food within a few months, maybe weeks. Sitting where I’m sitting I should be able to do just about anything. How can you deny a simple request from a dying man? Your dying father. Amiright?”
Irene stared hard into her father’s eyes. She turned to give Lester a searching expression, her eyebrows arching to the heavens.
“Irene, he has a point there.”
“What?”
“He’s not asking for heroin.”
“Actually—” Toots began.
“Are you crazy? Do you hear what you’re saying?” said Irene.
“Humor,” said Toots. “Another benefit of sitting where I’m sitting is that I can joke about anything. Nothing is off limits. Everything’s on the table. Like the adorable Mrs. Adams a few houses down, she’s in play.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Irene.
“You could set a glass on her ass,” Toots said to Lester with a nod.
“That’s supposed to be funny, Daddy?”
“It’s sexual and humorous, not sexist. And I did see you smile, Irene. You should record everything I say. After I’m gone you can listen to me and think this is what freedom sounds like. But I ain’t kidding about that simple request from a dying man. Just want to be honest here.”
“Ain’t happening, Daddy. You need to face the fact that you can’t live like you used to.”
“'Used to' ain’t worth a damn,” Toots shouted. “One’s limitations are always shifting, the decline of the physical and the growth of the spiritual keeping you in balance.”
Irene looked down at her father’s bare legs. “Your legs are full of age spots. Did this just happen? I don’t remember your legs looking like this.”
“I’m an old man, Irene. Few want to talk about it, but you just get old and rot. Like every other living thing in this world.”
“I don’t care what you say,” Irene shook her finger at Toots like she was scolding a child, “you are not hiring a hooker and snorting cocaine.”
“Let me be specific,” said Toots.
Lester laughed.
“I want a premium hooker. A super deluxe special. Actually an escort, that seems more classy, something top shelf. Not asking for a streetwalker. Nothing against streetwalkers, everybody’s got to make a living. I did meet a sweet strumpet one time in Munich back in the day who looked just like Marilyn Monroe. Spent a weekend with her the first time. I was nineteen and she was twenty-five. Lena was her name. She was…..uh, very skilled in the oral arts.”
“Sweet Jesus,” said Irene.
Toots nodded his head at his daughter then turned to Lester. “I’ll pay five thousand dollars. Whatcha think, Lester, that’ll get me a show pony, huh?”
“Five thousand dollars? I have no knowledge of such transactions, but I’m guessing what that buys is blue ribbon material,” said Lester.
“Blue ribbon?” asked Irene.
“Five thousand dollars, Irene, that’s got to be top of the line for north Alabama,” said Toots.
“You really would pay that, wouldn’t you?” asked Irene.
“Money is no object.”
“No, no, money is an object. That’s money out of my pocket, out of your grandkids’ pockets.”
“Ohhhhh, so we’re already there. Okay, okay, let’s just peel off all the veneer and get right to it, no more cotton candy sweet talk. I guess we’re finally to the ugly truth, just ramen noodles from here on out. Maybe chicken broth with saltines. Weaken the old man in order to hasten his decline. Have you been test driving convertible Mustangs?”
“I was wondering if you saw me the other day when I drove by and honked.”
“Hey, I don’t have a problem with that. My money is your money, get you one if you want it, just at least afford me a little pleasure here at the end. Right, Lester? I’m not talking nonsense, just asking for a smidgen of empathy for her dying daddy.”
“I can’t argue with that, Irene.”
“No, Lester.” She shook her head. “Not happening.”
“North Alabama escort supreme, five g’s sounds very high,” said Lester. “Hypothetically, Irene.”
“Lots cheaper around here than in New York City,” said Toots. “Of course, I speak not from experience, that’s just the Internet talking there.”
“Of course, hookers are cheaper here than in New York City,” said Irene. “Everything is cheaper here.”
“I don’t know, Irene, I think marijuana is pretty damn cheap up there. Might be the same with hookers, supply not being an issue,” said Lester.
“Junior T says hookers are thick as gnats up there,” said Toots.
“I don’t trust a word out of that man’s mouth. He told you he had an affair with Linda Ronstadt,” said Irene.
“He did.”
“Linda Ronstadt?” asked Lester.
“Now Irene, you’re always bad mouthin’ that man. Junior T was a bass player in a band back during Ronstadt’s early days before she became a big star. Their paths crossed and fornication took place.”
Irene shook her head and rolled her eyes at Lester.
“Daddy, please. If Junior T had an affair with Linda Ronstadt then I’ve got a date this weekend with Brad Pitt.”
“Do tell.”
“Anyway, enough of that. How you feeling today, Mr. Toots?” asked Lester.
“Beer, cocaine, and a hooker. Bring me those things and I’ll be just dandy.”
“I’ll get you as much beer as you want, Daddy, but I will not buy you cocaine or a hooker.”
Toots stretched his neck. “Okay, whatever you say, sweetheart.”
Irene smirked at her father and shook her head.
“What? I said okay.”
She walked off towards the kitchen. “Can I get you something to eat, Daddy?” she asked.
“No, I’m fine. I finished off that pizza from last night.”
“All of it? There were three slices left.”
“Big Ed’s makes a mighty fine pie. You’ve had Big Ed’s, Lester?”
“Yes, of course.”
“The Promised Land serves Big Ed’s, son.”
“Your appetite’s back,” said Irene.
“Now that I’m off the damn chemo I can eat.”
“You shouldn’t be eating three pieces.”
“I need me a Coca-Cola. You want anything, Lester?” said Irene from the kitchen.
“I’m good, Irene, thanks though.”
Toots whispered to Lester, “I’m not sure I can survive the coke, but I do want a hooker. A nice one. You gotta help me out, Lester.”
Lester laughed then he shook his head. “My career would be over if someone ratted me out.”
“I know that. Just talk to someone who can talk to someone who can call me.”
“I can ask around, Mr. Toots, but this is off my radar.”
Irene walked back into the den drinking a can of Coke. “I’m happy to hear you being so feisty. The hooker and cocaine talk is exasperating, but honestly such talk is comforting.”
“Yes, I agree, Irene. You’ve been fading on us, but hooker and cocaine talk means…well…”
“That I’m back in the ring. Damn straight. I’m still a player, by god.”
“My daddy, the player.”
“Besides, these requests are for medical purposes, mercy medication, actually.”
“Okay, just for the sake of argument,” said Lester.
“Not an argument. This is a request.” Toots paused. “From a dying man.”
“Let’s say this happens. An escort rings your door bell.”
“She better ring my bell for the kind of money I’m willing to pay.”
“I’m just lobbing them to you. But let’s say it really happens. Humor me. You open the door, let her in then what are you gonna do?”
“When I learn that the woman is on her way I pop a nice, fresh Niagra.”
“Got it all planned out, huh, Daddy?”
“Retired military, planning is what we do.”
“Okay, you need to plan how you are going to survive without cocaine and a hooker. I mean it, Daddy.”
“Okay, okay, no need to ruffle your feathers. Honey, would you go bring me my grey sweater from the bedroom. I believe it’s on the chair by the bed. I feel a little bit of a chill.”
“Okay, but I’ve got to get back in just a minute.”
After Irene left the room, Toots motioned for Lester to come close. Lester walked up to Toots’s chair then squatted down, face-to-face, inches apart.
“I need to tell you something.”
“Look, all I’m asking is to see what you can do for me. This is a very reasonable request from a man breathing his last,” he whispered to Lester.
Lester looked into Toots’s eyes, glassy but focused, an honest glistening.
“Now, Mr. Toots,” he grabbed Toots’s right forearm with his right hand, “I know that you probably will not believe me when I say this, but, God, what am I saying, I’ll try to help you here. You gotta tell me though, do you really want me to look into this?”
Toots placed his left hand on Lester’s hand, a holy gesture Lester thought. A stranger walking into the room might have thought that he had stumbled upon one man comforting a dying man, a scene of solemnity, a portal of wants and needs leaking from the older man’s eyes.
“I sure hope you mean that, Lester.”
Lester nodded. “Maybe I’m too soft for this job.”
“Daddy, I looked all over your bedroom and couldn’t find your sweater anywhere,” Irene called out as she walked down a hallway making her way to where her father sat.
“Oh, maybe I hung it up in my closet.”
“Well, I’m not going back there again. You can ask your pimp to retrieve your sweater.”
“Pimp?” asked Lester. “That’s got such a negative connotation, like I’m whipping my girls to keep them in line.”
“Yeah, I don’t like that either. Pimp doesn’t fit you,” Toots said with a smile. “How about fancy man. People don’t say that anymore, but it leaves a better taste in your mouth.”
“Okay, never heard that before but I like it. Lester Gordon, fancy man. Struggling for a little supplemental income, a father trying to raise three kids by himself, so he turns to being a fancy man. I’m a man of mercy, Irene, just helping people who need help.”
“A selfless man, a giver, not a taker. And, lest you forget, your commission would be a very healthy compensation. Don’t know what the percentage breakdown would be, but that’s your business. No one would ever know. Tax free. And cash, not traceable. You’re helping the dying. Isn’t that your job, the focus of your line of work here? Need I go on? You’d be a fool not to, Lester,” said Toots.
“Those are all good points, Irene.”
“And the future is what it is. You can’t add days to my life, but you can add life to my days. This is a gut check, young man of hospice.”
“How can I refuse this simple request?” said Lester.
“Cash? You got a stack of cash hid around her I don’t know about?” asked Irene.
“Maybe,” said Toots as he looked straight ahead. “Maybe not,” he said with a wink to Lester.
“I saw that wink. Is it safe for me to leave you two here by yourselves? I don’t want to come home to a keg of beer on the patio and a room full of strippers dancing naked.”
“Huh, well now,” said Toots. “My sweet daughter has made a very good point. Maybe we’ll start with the kegger and some strippers then see what the gals are up for. Have an open mind, right, Lester? Junior T has said on more than one occasion that the Bugtussle has the best gals. I think he’s a frequent patron of many of those fine gentlemen clubs.”
“Junior T, Linda Ronstadt, strippers, that man is worthless. Men are hopeless,” said Irene.
“I’m a dying man, Irene. Green bananas are worthless for someone like me,” said Toots. “As for Lester, he ain’t nothing but a man.”
“You gonna own that, Lester?” asked Irene.
“Thanks, Mr. Toots.”
“These words carry some weight, my hospice compadre,” said Toots.
“Okay, I’ve gotta go, don’t have time to listen to you talk in some kind of pimp code.”
“Pimp?” said Lester.
“Sorry. Fancy man code. I’ve got a room full of children to get back to.”
“Just negotiating my last few experiences in this world, sweetheart. How about another pizza tonight?”
“No, I’ll fix something when I get in.”
“I might put you and the babies up at a nice motel tonight. Lester and I will be negotiating with the Bugtussle for an evening of adult entertainment.”
“Don’t worry, Irene, I’m an adult and a professional.”
“That ain’t never stopped a man before,” said Irene as she walked to the front door. “Behave, Daddy.”
Lester followed Irene outside. When they drew even with her driver’s door she stopped and turned to face Lester.
“Hey,” said Lester, “I just wanted to touch base with you. How’s he doing? You know, really doing. Pain? Any problems with his lungs?”
“I think the right one is filling up with fluid again.”
“Ending the chemo and radiation is a brave choice but remember that we need to be careful with taking him to the hospital. We’ll do it if we need to, but I’d have to take him out of hospice so the government will pay then when he comes back home we’ll reinstate him into hospice.”
“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind. Not my choice about the chemo, he’s just worn out and sees the end very clearly. His life, his choice. I understand him, and this fits him, live it full until you can’t, face it head-on. All this is him, to a tee, really.”
“You never know about these things. Everyone is different,” said Lester.
“I know. You’re right,” then she stepped into the car, cranked the engine and rolled down her window. “Take care of him, Lester.”
“Don’t have to worry about that,” said Lester as Irene pulled out of the driveway. The car slowly drove away. Lester waved and gave Irene a thumbs-up.
Lester walked back into the house. “Hey, Mr. Toots, I just want to check one more time that you are serious with this hooker talk,” he called out as he walked through the house to where Toots sat. “I know you got some life in you, still in the ring, right? But are you truly serious?”
Lester walked up to Toots as he asked that last question. His eyes were closed. For a second Lester thought he had suddenly passed, but he saw Toots’s chest rise and fall. He looked at the old man, his face peaceful and content. Lester laughed. Lester turned and looked out a window into the backyard. “Maybe I’ll just see if I can get a girl from the Bugtussle to pay you a visit. I could use a little Bugtussle therapy myself.”
“Maybe we can get a discount if we order two,” said Toots.
Lester turned back around to see a huge grin on Toots’s face.
“Now you’re talking, Mr. Toots.”
Toots raised his right hand and within seconds Lester grabbed and held it in his own.
James Ladd Thomas was born and raised in Alabama. He has published short stories in various literary journals, including Berkeley Fiction Review, Hawaíi Review, RE:AL, First Class, littledeathlit, and Finding the Birds. He is currently working on a story collection and novel. Visit jamesladdthomas.com to read more.