The Birthday Girl

The morning was stifling hot already when Ray and Sophia arrived at the hospital, laden with bags and boxes. 

It was Darcy Dawber’s birthday and Ray was throwing the birthday girl a party, along with his mother’s help. 

They were having it at Club Med.  Why not? Ray had thought.  They’d become friends there.  And all their other chemo buddies were there as well—no need to try to co-ordinate another time or place.  They had hours with nothing to do but sit around, so why not have a little party?

Sophia had parked in the employee lot, a short hike from the Med Center building.  She worried a little about the ice cream melting along the way. Ray carried a bag full of Hawaiian shirts he’d bought from the party store, along with plastic leis for everybody.  He already wore his shirt and lei. He toted his Ma’s famous coconut cake. 

He also carried Darcy’s present.  Benny had helped him pick out a little ivy plant for her.  He had carefully wrapped its clay pot in tissue paper, and dropped it into a bright pink gift bag. He couldn’t wait to see her face when she opened her present.

He held the door open for Sophia and they went inside the cool, highly air-conditioned building.  Ray followed behind her, his red plastic flips flops sounding loudly on the shellacked linoleum floor.

Ray grinned in anticipation.

VVVVVV

Ben grinned in anticipation.  He wore a standard cadet utility uniform and jump boots.  His hair, which he had allowed to grow into a thick curly mop for the past three months, was shorn tight and close to his head again. 

“How do I look?” he asked Ray.  He had turned from the bedroom mirror, awaiting Ray’s inspection. 

Ray moved from where he was lounging on the bed. “You look really, really hot.”  Ray slowly slinked toward Ben, eyeing him appreciatively as Ben did a slow turn. “I don’t know if you’re wearing that uniform or that uniform is wearing you.” Ray gave an appreciative wolf whistle, looking at how the snug fabric clung to the curves of Benny’s ass.

Ben had dropped ten pounds in the past month, and Ray thought he looked really good.  Yeah. He looked damned good.  Built like a brick shithouse, that one. “Come’ere.” Ray commanded, reaching for him.

He caught Ben’s mouth in a sizzling kiss. Ben moaned, and took Ray’s face into his hands, guiding him.  The kiss went on and on.  Ray’s dick was doing its damnedest to rise to the occasion.  Well, the spirit was willing, but, the body…He pulled Ben to him anyway. 

And Ben instantly pulled away.  “Ray!” he cautioned. “You’ll wrinkle me!” 

Ray sighed, and dropped his head. “Benny, we were having a moment here.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”  He leaned in and kissed Ray again, careful to keep his body from touching him.  “I want you now, but I don’t want to arrive late and untidy my first day of school. It would set a bad tone.”

“Alright, alright,” Ray agreed, resigned. 

“Will you take me?”

“Sure!” Ray grabbed Ben by the waist again.

Ben pushed his hands away.  “To school. I meant would you take me to school.”

“Benny,” Ray said, disappointed, “We don’t have to leave for another forty minutes!”

“Yes, but there might be traffic, an accident, construction, or any number of incidences that may delay—

“Alright, Benny, alright!”

Ray went for his shoes while Ben gathered things for his duffel bag, his manuals and writing tablets, three pens, five pencils, a large pink eraser, his compass, his calculator, a tuning fork?

Ray watched Ben’s serious preparations with a smile of affection on his face while he hunted for his keys.  “Ready?”

Ben nodded. 

“Nervous?”

“Very.”

“Do you need puke before we go?”

“I’ll be alright.”

Ray tapped his elbow briefly.  “Let’s do it.  Be right back, Pearson! Gotta take Benny to school!”

The dog woofed in acknowledgement from her spot on the couch.  She was engrossed in watching television, and didn’t even bother to look at them. 

Ben and Ray headed for the door. 

Ray stopped him with an “Oh, Benny?”

“Yes?”

Ray waited until Ben had turned.  “I just wanted to tell you I’m real proud of you.  And I got you this.”  He pulled out a small gold medal from his dark Armani slacks.  “It’s a St. Michael’s.  He’ll look out for you. Knock ‘em dead, kid.”

Ben melted.  “Oh, Ray.” He took the proffered jewelry from his beaming lover.

“I know they won’t let you wear jewelry in school, but I’ll wear it for you for now, okay?”

“Okay,” he said simply.  He gazed into Ray’s bright green eyes for a moment.  “I love you,” he said, almost with a sound of amazement.

“I love you more,” Ray said.  “Now let’s get you out of here before I pull you back into the bedroom and rip that uniform off of you.”  As Ben turned and went through the door that Ray held open, Ray playfully slapped his ass, grinning.

VVVVVV

Ray moseyed through the doors of the old 2-7, hands in pockets, and waited to be noticed. 

A slow wave swept through the bullpen; heads came up, and a surprised murmur started. 

Margarita Gamez reached him first, throwing her petite frame into his chest.  She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed.  Ray staggered and laughed with affection.  “What are you doing here?!” Marg cried.

Micky reached him next, giving him a slap on the back, and a handshake. Tom Dewey came up and gave him a friendly slug on the back.  They all greeted him with surprise and delight, gathering around him in a semi-circle.

“I was just in the neighborhood, and figured I’d stopped by,” Ray said in answer to Marg’s question.

“How ya feelin’, buddy?” Micky asked.

“Pretty good these days,” Ray responded.  “Hey, where’s that no-good partner of yours anyway?” Ray asked of Kowalski. 

“Out gettin’ into trouble, I’m sure,” Micky said. 

“Well, I hope he didn’t get too comfortable here.”

“Hey, when you coming back, Ray?” Dewey asked. 

“Soon as the doc says it okay.”

“Ah! Vecchio, you’ve returned!”

Ray looked over at the sound of the familiar avuncular voice. “Lieu!”

Welsh stuck out his hand, and Ray grasped it.

“What brings you by?” He asked.  “You know I told you to take it easy.”

“Benny’s starting at the academy today.  I was just dropping him off. Figured I’d stop by and see the place.”

“Well, that’s good, good,” Welsh said.  “Because there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about anyway. Why don’t you step into my office? Won’t take but a few minutes.”

Ray was instantly worried and curious.  “Okay,” he said with some trepidation.  “Hey, I’ll see you guys on the way out.”

He said his goodbyes to the little group, and greeted a few other folks who crossed his path on the way to Welsh’s office.

Welsh held the door open for him.  “Grab a seat,” he said.  He shut the door behind him.

VVVVVV

It wasn’t just Darcy’s birthday they were celebrating; it was Ray’s last chemo, too. Ray felt elated, like he was the luckiest man in the world.  When he woke up this morning, he was smiling before he even opened his eyes. Sure, the nausea was bad at times, everything tasting like metal sucked, what little hair he had falling out was awful, and the impotence was humiliating, but he was alive and had every expectation of living a long, healthy life.

The cancer had some unanticipated benefits; the disease had brought him closer to his Ma, to Frannie, to Maria, and most of all, it had brought him even closer to Benny. Ray wasn’t even sure how that was even possible, but it was the truth. Despite his physical limitations, the past three months had been paradise.  After Benny’s retirement, he stayed home with Ray, just to be with him.  A typical morning consisted of Ben rising before Ray even awakened, and going to the gym for a long workout.  By the time Ray was ready to rise, Ben was home and had prepared for Ray breakfast in bed.  Afterwards, Benny sometimes read to him, and sometimes Ray would read another chapter on his own.  The first book Ray completed since being forced to read in high school was “Don Quixote”.  Ray thought it was pretty good; he could really relate to that Sancho Panza, chasing the don around the countryside on his crazy campaign of supposed do-gooding.

Money had gotten tight of late, with Ben’s full-time income now gone, and the first wave of Ray’s big medical bills hitting them, so they tried to find low-cost things to do for entertainment.  They sometimes went to museums in the afternoon or community theatre instead of the opera, or they just took long drives out of Chicago.  Ray even felt well enough to manage an overnight camping trip over Memorial Day.

He sometimes also got together with Darcy.  On their off-chemo weeks, he would go by the apartment and check on her, sit with her for a while.  She didn’t have anybody to look after her, really, so Ray did.  He enjoyed sitting in her tiny living room.  It wasn’t much of any apartment; the furniture was shabby, some rugs worn threadbare, but it was a cheerful little place, full of bright sunshine in the afternoon, the walls covered with Darcy’s own artwork.  Almost every surface had a plant of some kind on it, and she had lots of plants hanging from the ceiling.  She even had plants in the bathroom.  A lot of times, they just watched the Cubbies on TV, or played some cards.  Darcy always lit up whenever Ray dropped by. Last week, Ray had asked her if she might like a little party, and she had readily agreed.

Ray got everybody in Club Med into their hibiscus-printed Hawaiian shirts before they got hooked up to their IVs. Each person also donned bright pink or yellow lei.  Ray thought it was rather a good look. 

Nurse Rocco had brought in a blender and made virgin daiquiris and pina coladas for those who had the stomach for it.  Ray saw him slip a nip bottle out of pocket of his scrubs and he spiked his own drink.  “Want some?” Rocco whispered in his soft voice when he saw Ray eying him.  “Na, thanks man,” Ray said.  Rocco glanced furtively around the room, tucking the bottle back into his pocket. Ray made a mental note to watch Rocco’s administering of his chemo drugs.  He hadn’t come through all this just to get an accidental overdose from a tipsy nurse.

Ray glanced at the clock for the fifth time. Darcy was late.  Ma had to put the ice cream in the staff lounge freezer while they waited.  Ray had forgotten a card, so they improvised one out of a wall poster showing the anatomy of the human organs, each patient signing their name next to their diseased organ.  Macabre, they knew, but darkly funny.  Ray knew Darcy would get a kick out it.

Ray looked around.  The group sure had changed in a short period of time.  Frederick and Kenny were both done, replaced by two more “new kids”, as Darcy would say.  Lee only had two more rounds to go.  They had another woman, a thirty-nine year old woman with two kids, Lindsay.  She had breast cancer.

Ken’s old chair was now occupied by big, white-haired Honey Fitz. The big Irishman had a loud booming voice befitting his stature. He was a stage four colon cancer.  Honey Fitz liked to talk.  He was from Philly, and each week regaled them with tales of his boyhood in the city. It annoyed some of the people in the room, but Ray liked to hear Fitzy drone on and on; it made the time pass.

Ray was going to miss everybody, but he was glad he wouldn’t be seeing them again, under these circumstances anyway.  He’d keep up with Lee and probably Honey Fitz. He definitely was going to keep up with Darcy.  They had already made plans to get together and catch a couple of Cubbies games, and hopefully the Bulls season opener if Ray could purchase the  tickets; he’d had to give up his season’s tickets due to their budget crunch, and opening tickets were notoriously hard to come by.

Ray glanced at the clock again. Ma had placed candles in the cake, and Rocco had his lighter on standby.  All they needed was the birthday girl.

The group chatted amiably while they passed the time, and Honey Fitz found a two-second window of silence in which he launched into yet another story of his beloved Phillies.  His voice was so loud he sounded like he was pitching it for somebody in the next room.  Lindsay rolled her eyes as Fitz went on, and Rocco sighed, furtively spicing his daiquiri with peppermint Schnapps.

Ray had heard this one, but he let Fitz tell it again:  “Ever tell you about the time the summer I was bat boy?  Ohhhhh. Best year of my life, boy.  Best year of my life.  Hobnobbing, rubbing elbows with Putsy Caballero, Bitsy Mott, Izzy Leon. Real stand-up guys.”  Fitz got a little misty eyed, looking off into the distance, and remembering.

“Those real people?” Rocco whispered.  “Real guys?”

“Honest to God, yeah!  And a saint, every one, I’ll tell ya. Oh, and Granny Hamner, Charlie Ripple. Had all their autographs at one time, but lost them all in the fire.”  Fitz seemed to be muttering to himself.  “It was all my fault.  Winter, 1969. I was cooking some bacon and the grease spattered…can’t stand the smell of bacon to this day, I tell ya.  What that autographed ball would go for now. My brother Mikey…” he rambled on, drifting, until he dozed, the drugs doing a number on him.

“Raimundo, it’s getting awfully late,” Ma said.

“Yeah.  Maybe I should call and make sure she’s left the house.”

Rocco whispered, “I’ll let you use the phone here, it you want.  Just don’t tell anyone; it’s against the rules.”

“Thanks, Rocco.” Ray dialed the number.  It rang once. And once more, and once more.  The machine picked up, and Darcy’s familiar voice came on, asking the caller to leave a message.  “Hey! Darc!” Ray said, “Birthday girl! Just checkin’ to see if you left yet.  We’re waiting—

“Hello?” an unfamiliar voice picked up.

“Oh!” Ray said.  “Who’s this?” a sense of dread rising in his stomach.

“This is her cousin, Martha.  I’m afraid I’ve got…”

Ray looked over at Darcy’s empty Barcalounger, and understood a split second before the next words came.

“… some bad news.”

Ray already knew the rest.  He closed his eyes in resignation.