Shot in the Heart - Mikal Gilmore [164]
The day after this incident, Grace received a letter from Gary. He was paying back some money she had loaned him for a new set of dentures, but he also sent along a letter that was full of hatred and venom for the world around him. Grace almost felt the violence jumping off the page. That’s when the accumulation of all the bad news caught up with her and made her see how she was spending more and more time surrounded by lives of disaster. Also, there was her spiritualism: Grace looked down the long psychic highway of our future, and she saw something monumental and deadly bearing down on us. She could tell it might take a few other people along with it. So she did the only thing a smart person could do. She called my mother and said: “I do not mean this to offend you—I love you—but I cannot go any further with your family. I have only so much time and energy, and I should be giving it to my own family.” When my mother told me the news, I understood. In fact, I was surprised that Grace could have hung in there so long.
ON OCTOBER 8, 1971, GAYLEN AND JANET WERE MARRIED in a simple civil ceremony, across the Columbia River from Portland, in Vancouver, Washington. My mother and my brother Frank and I attended the wedding, and then we all went out to a restaurant and had dinner. My mother was happy to make it her treat. She had never had a son get married before.
Gaylen looked happier that evening than I had ever seen him. I had known nothing about the night that Grace drove him all over town, seeking medical care, nor did I know about any of his other hospital visits. For the first time since he had returned home, I thought Gaylen might have a second chance after all.
A few nights later, Janet showed up at my door. She was drunk, and she was crying. “I’m through with that lousy bastard,” she said. “He’s yelled at me for the last time. I’m going back to my friends in Chicago as soon as I can raise the money. Until then, can I stay here with you for a day or two?”
I knew exactly what Janet was asking, and the thought scared the hell out of me. Just then the phone rang. It was Gaylen. “Have you seen Janet?” he asked. “Yes,” I said. “She’s here right now. I think the two of you should have a talk.”
Gaylen showed up a short time later, and he and Janet were in each other’s arms right away, crying, promising to be better to one another. Soon, the three of us were laughing and playing Johnny Cash records. As they were leaving, Gaylen paused at the door and turned to me. “I want to thank you for helping us tonight,” he said. “I also want to thank you for coming to my wedding. It meant a lot to me.”
I was unprepared for this moment of sincerity, so I made a dumb joke: “Oh, you’re welcome. Hell, I’ll even go to your funeral if you like.”
It was one of those things you say that you can’t retract—that you later never forget and never forgive yourself for. Still, we both laughed. Brothers could laugh about anything.
Gaylen leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Good-bye,” he said, and turned and walked down the stairs.
You could already feel winter emerging from the fall. The air was turning cold.
A COUPLE OF WEEKS LATER, ANOTHER CALL FROM MY MOTHER: “I thought you should know. Gaylen went into the hospital today. It looks like he’s going to need a little surgery.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“It’s his stomach. He’s been having some more trouble lately, and the doctor thought he should go in and have the problem taken care of.”
“Well, what sort of trouble is it? An ulcer?”
“It’s some kind of perforation. That’s all I really know.”
I asked for the name of the hospital.
“He’s at Oregon City Hospital, but I think you should wait for a few days before going to see him. It might be a little while before he’s