The Edge of Always(68)

“He always said,” Carla continues, “that if he died before any of us did that he’d rather be woken up on the Other Side to people dancin’ on his grave than cryin’ on it. Now drink up. His favorite whiskey. He wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Carla’s right. Even though she is, and I know Eddie would hate it that anyone grieved over him, I still can’t let go of the bottomless hole I feel in my heart right now. I look at Camryn next to me and see that she’s trying not to cry, her eyes coated with tears. But she smiles, and I feel her hand gently squeezing mine. Camryn reaches out for the whiskey that Carla poured and waits for me to take the other. I slide my hand across the bar top and grasp it in my fingers.

“To Eddie,” I say.

“To Eddie,” Camryn repeats.

We touch our glasses, smile at each other and drink it down.

Our serious moment is quickly over when Camryn brings her hand down, slamming the glass upside-down on the bar. She makes the most disgusted, kick-in-the-teeth face I’ve ever seen a girl make and lets out a sound like her breath is on fire.

Carla laughs and takes her shot glass away, wiping the area underneath it with a rag. “Didn’t say it was good, just that it was Eddie’s.”

Even I have to admit the shit is nasty. Rotgut nasty shit. I don’t know how Eddie drank this all those years.

“Are you two still playin’ together?” Carla asks.

Camryn climbs up onto the empty bar stool next to me and answers first, “Yeah, we’ve been doing a lot of that.”

Carla looks at us both suspiciously, taking my shot glass and putting it away underneath the bar somewhere now.

“Been playin’ a lot for how long? And why haven’t I seen you here sooner?”

I sigh heavily and fold both hands on the bar, leaning more comfortably against it. “Well, after we left here we went to Galveston and I sort of ended up in the hospital with that tumor.”

“You sort of ended up in the hospital?” Carla says, and I wonder if her smart ass is related to that cop back in Florida somehow. She points sternly at me but her words are for Camryn. “We told him to go to the doctor, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“You knew, too?” Camryn asks.

Carla nods. “Yeah, we knew. But your boy here is as stubborn as a mule.”

“I agree with you there,” Camryn says with a hint of laughter in her voice.

I shake my head and lean away from the bar again. “Well, before you two gang up on me,” I say, “anyway, obviously I’m alive. Later, Camryn and I went through some really messed up things along the way, but we both made it through OK.” I smile warmly over at her.

“Looks like you came full circle,” Carla says, and it invokes our attention at the same time. “I hope you’re going to play tonight. Eddie would’ve loved to be up there with you one last time.”

Camryn and I lock eyes briefly.

“I’m up for it,” she says.

“So am I.”

Carla smacks her hands together. “Well, all right then! You can go on whenever you want. The only band we had scheduled tonight cancelled.”

We hang out at the bar with Carla for an hour before we finally make it to the stage. And even though the bar is only half-full tonight, we play to an excited crowd. We start off with our trademark duet, “Barton Hollow”; it seems only fitting that it be the first one, since Old Point is where we performed it together the first time. We go through several songs before finally getting to “Laugh, I Nearly Died,” in which I make an announcement on stage beforehand that it’s in honor of Eddie Johnson. I play it without Camryn and with an Eddie replacement, some nice Creole man named Alfred.

A little after midnight, Camryn and I say good-bye to Carla and Old Point Bar. But in true New Orleans style, we don’t go to bed early, we stay out and party with the best of them. We hit d.b.a. first, then head over to the bar where Camryn schooled me in a game of pool that night. It’s been almost a year since we were here last and were kicked out on our asses after a bar fight; I hope they don’t remember me. By two in the morning, after several games of pool and several drinks, just like last time I’m helping Camryn into the hotel elevator because she can barely hold herself up.

“You all right, babe?” I laugh lightly, repositioning my arm around the back of her waist.

Her head sways side to side. “No. I’m not all right. And you would laugh.”

“Aww, I’m sorry,” I say, but it’s only partly true. “I’m not laughing at you, just wondering if we’re going to be sleeping next to the toilet this time.”

She moans, though I think it was her way of arguing with me instead of expressing her discomfort. I get a better grip on her as the elevator opens, and I walk with her out into the hall and back to our room. I lead her to the bed, strip off everything but her panties, and help her into one of her tank tops. She lies down against the pillow, and I start to cover her with the sheet. But I remember that being this drunk, anything other than her panties and top will just make her sweat profusely, ultimately causing her to lose all of the alcohol she drank tonight.

Just in case, I grab the small wastebasket near the TV and place it next to the bed on the floor. Then I go into the bathroom, wet a washcloth with the cold water, and wring it out over the sink. But by the time I make it back to the bed to swab Camryn’s face and forehead, she’s already passed out.