I saved a guy’s life. And I didn't do it by jumping in the water. I brought him from sickness to health and he never missed a paycheck - or a premium. There is no doubt in anyone’s mind that if not for me, he would be dead.
He used to work here. He got sick. I pulled him out of hell – a hospital up in Manayunk, and got him into Penn. I even paid his carfare up to Sloan after I convinced the doctor to see him, who wasn’t looking for patients, believe me. I saw him through treatment and back behind a slicer, where I let him sleep for weeks. This guy was dying of the same disease that was killing my sister, and I was desperately trying to save her life. It wasn’t working. But for this guy, who got to tag along, it worked fine.
Two days after my sister’s funeral, I get a letter from this guy. The letter wasn’t addressed to me. It was addressed to my cousin, who handed it to me halfway up Mole Street with tears in his eyes. There was a list of cc’s that included my partner and my uncle. I’m so sorry, my cousin said. Just tell me what to do.
It was a long letter, and once I got the gist of it, it was hard to read, so I skimmed. He called me everything in the book – a liar, a thief, a hypocrite, a dissembler, a conspirator, you name it. Plus, there was no redeeming quality I didn’t lack. I had betrayed my family in every way, my recent agonies on their behalf not withstanding. I was a mentally disturbed sociopath who held everyone in contempt. He had proof.
He gave this letter to me at the wake, my cousin said. It made me afraid of him. Then it made me angry. Now, it makes me want to cry. I agreed it was heartbreaking, which we didn’t need.
People do the strangest things, especially when they face death. If this guy’s reaction wasn’t so disturbing, I might have been angry too. So I told my cousin not to do anything, since the only thing left was to make it worse. But it was impossible not to broach the subject with this guy, since he was still working here, cashing his paycheck out of the register. All I said was: I saw what you wrote. That was it. Then I accepted his resignation, which didn’t feel especially good, but wasn’t so bad.
