Memorial(58)

* * *





Eiju spent the next few nights at Taro’s clinic. I stayed with him. Kunihiko visited from time to time. I told him not to worry about the bar, about keeping it open or anything, but he insisted on cleaning it, at the very least.

In the morning, I left Eiju’s room for the nurses to conduct their tests. When I made it back, he was deflated and wincing.



* * *





Eventually, Taro came in to see us himself. When he asked if it was cool for me to stay in the room, Eiju only shrugged. And then the doctor told us Eiju’s cancer hadn’t grown more, exactly, but it hadn’t shrunk either. All that had happened was time. Eiju’s body was slowing down. He’d continue to lose weight. The nausea would rise. Vertigo, too. Things the treatment would’ve otherwise done its best to reduce. But the only thing that was happening was exactly what he’d—what we’d—known would happen. It was here. Happening. The only thing surprising about the end was how quickly it had arrived.



* * *





So I’m on borrowed time, said Eiju.

You’re on your own time, said Taro.

I’m already dead.

You’re still here. But you need to be comfortable. Manning the bar is a bad idea.

He’s hardly ever around now, I said.

It’s time to cut it out entirely, said Taro.

Are you telling me that I shouldn’t work, said Eiju, or that I can’t work?

I’m telling you that working will kill you faster than what already is, said Taro.

Eiju looked at Taro. He looked at his lap. Then he exhaled a noise I’d never heard from him, this whooshing thing that was somewhere between a roar and a cry and a groan.

When I started to stand to go to him, Taro set a hand on my shoulder. Eiju’s chest rose and fell. He shook. Wheezed.

Eventually, he settled into himself.

Okay, he said. That’s okay.

We knew this was coming, he said. Right?

We did, said Taro.

It’s what we talked about? said Eiju.

It is, said Taro.

Okay, said Eiju.

Then that’s fine, he said. I’ll stay home.

You need the practice managing things anyways, he said, turning to me, smiling.

And I knew, viscerally, primally, that I could’ve just said, No.

I could’ve broken that man right there.

It wouldn’t have taken much.

I looked Eiju in his face. I took all of it in.



* * *





I said, Okay.



* * *




? ? ?

One time, years back, before Ben, I was about to dick down some whiteboy I’d met at Grand Prize. Found him at the pool table, and once we made it to his place, he was tugging at my shorts, and then he’d finally gotten them off, and then he stopped moving entirely. Stopped breathing, even.

When I asked what was wrong, the whiteboy said it just wasn’t what he expected.

When I asked what it was, he smiled, because he thought I knew, although honestly, in that moment, I was thinking of everything but my dick.

And then he stopped smiling.

And everything clicked.



* * *





When I told that story to Ben, way later, he laughed right in my face. A rarity.

Fuck you, I said.

Be nice, said Ben.

I never laugh at your stories.

You’re right. I’m sorry.

You should be.

But I wasn’t laughing because it was funny, said Ben. That’s not funny. It’s never funny. But I have a question.

Go ahead.

Did that stop you from fucking him?

Ben had this smirk on his face. I thought about what I would say before I said it.

No, I said.

No what?

No, I said.

And we stared at each other.

Well, said Ben.



* * *




? ? ?

A few things that Eiju, even in sickness, on the literal brink of death, can’t bring himself to believe in: regular breakfasts, socks around the apartment, washing his hands with soap, a full eight hours of sleep.



* * *





He smoked in the mornings.

I reminded him of the doctor’s orders.

Eiju reminded me that he had cancer, not fucking Alzheimer’s.

I told Eiju that he was exacerbating things. Making his situation worse.

He said the end result would be the same, did I think he was a fucking idiot, why was I reminding him.



* * *





I moved my futon from the living room to his bedroom. My nose brushed his shoulder at night. This was a recommendation from Taro, who thought, worst-case, if something happened, my reaction time would be quicker. Not quick enough. But quicker.

Taro told us that this moment was all about minimizing risk, that this was the point, and Eiju grumbled as we death-proofed his apartment.

When I wiped down the floors like Taro suggested, Eiju asked why we didn’t just take all the furniture out, to minimize the risk.

When I cooked the food Taro prescribed, Eiju asked why we didn’t just skip meals altogether, to minimize the risk.