Chapter Thirteen
Blind George was sick now, very sick. He had been sick for a long time. He was so like a rock, an obelisk, that people tended to think him unchanging, but he had changed so slowly no one noticed. He had told the doctors a long time ago to leave him alone, and so they did. His chart reflected the change, in spare flat medical language it told the story of gradual decline.
I didn't see him every day, so I noticed. He lay in the bed in the Infirmary, his great bulk dwindled down, his face, fleshless and bony, furrowed by the pain until it looked like a Pharaoh's mummy. All that lived were his sightless eyes, his great lively eyes that stayed aware of everything and saw nothing. I drew breath and cried when I saw him, and he nodded, knowing who I was. His mummy's face moved into a smile and his deep voice rumbled with great effort out of his wasted body.
"Missy, don't do to weep. I'm going on, now. It's my time." He nodded, but concern and worry for others made the lines in his face deeper. He wasn’t concerned about himself. He reached out with his bony hand, his great palm enclosing mine.
"Tell them to take care of Jesse, he don't understand, he'll think I left, when I never. I trained Leo White to take care of him, told Jesse to follow Leo. Little Jesse won't understand why I'm gone, but he'll do as I say. I hope Leo can do it, it'll be good for him to do it. He's got it in him to look after people, he just don't know that. Not yet. If he grows, he'll learn how. It'll make this place easier for him, take some of the anger out of him. Some. Not all, not ever all of the anger. He needs some...."
Blind George closed his eyes and his breathing was ragged. The long speech wore him out, and I put his hand on the coverlet on his chest. A faint smile brushed across his face.
"You’ll do, Missy, you’ll do. You have the touch. Now I need to talk to Leo. Can you find him?"
I kissed George's forehead, the skin shiny and stretched across the bones.
"I'll find Leo." I whispered, and walked out of the room and down the sidewalk from the Infirmary into the main part of the hospital. I took a deep breath and looked around the quiet Dayroom. Leo sat on the couch, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Elam sat next to him, with a patient pale face. He motioned to me and Leo looked up. He had George’s harmonica in his hands, and turned it around and around. He looked at it, and turned it, and handed it to Elam.
"How can I learn to do what he did?" I had a feeling he wasn't talking about playing the harmonica.
"George wants to see you, Leo. He’s asking for you.”
We walked in silence out the door and to the other building, down the quiet hall toward George’s room. Leo’s green eyes opened wide as he looked into the room.
“He wouldn't have asked you to take care of Jesse if he didn't think you could do it. He knows." I whispered, and Leo shook his head.
"Old man, what have you done to me?" He whispered quietly, and walked slowly into the room. George opened his eyes when he heard footsteps, and held out his hand. Leo took it, and sat on the bed, staring at George.
“I been telling you for a long time, Leo White, you know that. You hear me?” George’s whisper rumbled. “You can do this, you have to do this. You’re the only one can.”
There was silence in the room, and I leaned against the door. I cupped my hands on my elbows and held them tight against my sides. I watched Leo nod, and take a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh.
“I know, old man. I know. You rest.” Leo watched George close his eyes and smile, and added, “ and we’ll sing you to Heaven.” George opened his eyes and the smile got bigger.
“No parades.”
Leo grinned, and said, “I got it. No parades.”
George nodded, and closed his eyes, and slept. His breathing was shallow but peaceful. I closed the door, and left Leo sitting there, elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, staring at George’s face. I wanted to stay, I wanted to help, but the van was about to leave and there was nothing I could do.
All the way home in the bright spring afternoon I sat in the back of the van and stared out the window. Eunice and Lucas drove behind, and every now and then Lucas would salute. I knew what they were thinking. In the pocket of my coat I had the phone number for the nurses’ station in the infirmary.
I called Joyce around noon a few days later from the pay phone in the dorm, and learned that “Mr. Lott had expired.” She spoke quietly, her capable voice on the phone making me feel better. She added that Dr. Fried had been there, in the room, with Mr. Lott. I put the phone in the cradle and closed my eyes. Good. It was good that way; it was the way it was supposed to be. A quiet farewell with friends. And in my tears I smiled, and thought, but no parades. I went to tell Eunice and Lucas and Elaine. I wouldn’t tell Mr. Wallace. He could find out when we went back to Enigma, if he wanted to know.