A Million Little Pieces - James Frey [48]
Most of the men head to their Rooms and start getting ready for dinner. I head to mine to get ready to leave. I take off Warren’s oxford and put on my T-shirt and I write Warren a note of thanks and I put it in the front pocket of the oxford and I walk over to his area and I fold the oxford and I set it on his bed. I go back to my area and I write another note that has Hank’s name and the address of the Clinic and says Please Return This Jacket and thanks Hank for his kindness and friendship. I put this note in the front pocket of the jacket he lent me so it will be found when I am found and I put the jacket on and I look around for anything else I might have, but there’s nothing. I look in the drawers, on the bed, under the bed, under the sheets, in the medicine cabinet, in the shower. There is nothing. I have nothing.
I walk to the Dining Hall and I get in line and I grab a tray and I take a deep breath and the smell of the food floods my body and I am hungry, hungry, hungry and I want to eat and I want to eat a lot. Tonight’s meal is meat loaf and mashed potatoes and gravy and brussels sprouts and apple pie. It is a meal I like and it is suitable for what will probably be the last real meal that I eat. I get as much as the woman behind the counter will give me and I get utensils and napkins and I find an empty table and I sit down and I spread the napkins on my lap and I take a deep breath. This is probably going to the last real meal I ever eat.
The meat loaf is good and wet and juicy and the potatoes are real potatoes and the gravy is warm and thick and tastes deeply of beef. I eat slowly, savoring each bite, letting each bite sit in my mouth until it dissolves. My Mother made meat loaf for my Brother and me when I was a Child, made this exact meal about once a week. Eating it now and eating it as my last meal brings back the memories of those dinners and of many more. My Father would be working or away somewhere on some trip, my Brother and I would be at School or running around whatever neighborhood we happened to live in at the time. At six-thirty every night, we’d have dinner with my Mother. She made great dinners, and she loved the routine of sitting down and eating with us. After dinner we’d watch television or play games or my Mother would read to us. When my Father made it home we would spend time together as a whole and then it was off to bed for my Brother and me. We were a Family, a happy Family, and we stayed that way until I stopped showing up. It would be nice to have my Family here with me now. It would be nice, despite the disintegration of our relationship over the past years, to have a final dinner with them. Though I doubt we would talk much, it would be nice to look each of them in the eye and say good-bye to them. Though I doubt we would talk much, it would be nice to hold each of their hands, tell them that I’m sorry, that me being who I am wasn’t their fault. Though I doubt we would talk much, I would like to tell them to forget me.
I finish eating and I lean back in my chair and I see Leonard walking toward me with a tray of food. He sets down his tray on the table and he sits across from me and he starts unfolding napkins and cleaning his silverware.
How are ya, Kid?
I’m good.
You’re good?
Yeah, I’m good.
That’s the first time I ever heard you say that.
I’m coming to terms with some shit.
What?
None of your business.
One of these days you’re gonna talk to me.
No, I’m not.
You’ll get tired of being an Asshole and you’ll get tired of not having any friends and you’ll talk to me.
No, I won’t.
I’m gonna keep sitting with you until you do.
I laugh.
I’m gonna keep sitting with you. Mark my motherfucking words.
I grab my tray, stand.
Have a nice life, Leonard.
What’s that supposed to mean?
Have a nice life.
I turn and I walk my tray to the conveyor and I drop it on the belt and I start to walk out of the Dining Hall. As I head through the Glass Corridor separating the men and women, I see Lilly sitting alone at a table. She looks up