A Million Little Pieces - James Frey [91]
Leonard turns and he stares at me. I stare back.
I told you this story for a number of reasons. The most important is that when you get down, or you don’t think you can fucking do this anymore, just hold on, and sooner or later, the shit is gonna get better.
We stare at each other.
As I said before, Kid, you walk out of here, and I’m having you brought back. As many times as it takes, I will have you brought the fuck back. You can go ahead and test me on that if you want, but I would suggest you not. The smart thing would be to take my advice. I may be a coke Addict and a fellow Patient and a Fuck-Up of the First Order, but I am giving you good advice. Be smart, be strong, be proud, live honorably and with dignity, and just hold on.
We stare at each other. I am listening to him and respecting him and respecting the words that he is speaking. They are true. They come from a place of experience and feeling. I can believe in those things. Truth, experience and feeling. I can believe in them. Just hold on.
You think you can do that?
I nod.
Yeah, I can do that.
He smiles.
You’re not gonna fight me on this.
I shake my head.
No, I’m not going to fight you.
You’re getting better, Kid.
I chuckle. I turn and I look back across the Lake. The mist is gone and the ice diminished, the drip of the icicles quick and heavy. The Sun is up and the Sky is blue empty blue light blue clear blue. I would drink the Sky if I could drink it, drink it and celebrate it and let it fill me and become me. I am getting better. Empty and clear and light and blue. I am getting better.
Leonard speaks.
It’s about time for breakfast.
Yeah.
Leonard stands. I look up at him.
Thank you, Leonard.
He smiles.
Sure, Kid.
I stand. I think about saying something else, but I don’t know any words to express the strong, simple and deep appreciation I feel. I reach up and out and I put my arms around Leonard and I hug him. I don’t know any words, so I let my actions speak. Strong, simple and deep appreciation. The actions speak true.
We separate and we start walking back to the Clinic. As we move along the Trail, we pass other Patients and we say hello to them or nod to them or exchange brief pleasantries with them. Most of them seem to be walking for exercise and most of them seem to know where they’re going. A few are just walking to walk. A few look lost.
We get to the Dining Hall and we get trays and we get food and we sit down at a table with Matty and Ed and Ted and Miles and a man named Bobby. Bobby, who is short and fat and has the pink skin and red hair of an Irishman, has a huge plate of food in front of him. In between giant mouthfuls of runny eggs, he is telling stories. Matty and Ed and Ted are egging him on, Miles is sitting and quietly listening.
He doesn’t acknowledge us as we join them. He doesn’t stop eating or talking, the fat jowl beneath his chin doesn’t stop jiggling. He is telling a story about some Mobsters he knows in Brooklyn, claiming that he manages their money through investments in the Stock Market and they get him drugs and women and whatever else he wants. When he talks of amounts of drugs, Matty laughs and says he should have asked for more. Bobby then corrects himself and says that he actually did get more. When he talks of women, Ed tells him that four at a time isn’t that a big deal and Bobby says the next time he had eight. He mentions crack and the amounts of it he claims to smoke and Ted asks him what it feels like, that he has always wanted to try it. Bobby says that it feels like really strong weed.