Page 62 of Don't Tell Me How to Die

“Healthy? Is that code for fat? I put on like ten pounds.”

“It’s not code for anything. And trust me, Johnny, those ten pounds look damn good on you.”

“Sorry, babe, you’re too late,” he said, a lovable bad-boy grin on his face. “You had your shot, but at this point in my life I can’t get involved with a married woman who’s nursing twins.”

I put both hands to my heart and feigned a pout. “I’m crushed.”

“But I still wanted to get something nice for the kids. The problem is, I’m on a short leash, so I couldn’t exactly go shopping in any of your finer establishments, so I did the best I could.”

He produced a brown paper bag from under his jacket. “This is from the baby gift department at 7-Eleven,” he said. “The twins aren’t ready for it yet, but one of these days when they grow into it, tell them it’s from their Uncle Johnny.”

He handed me the bag. I started to tear up as soon as I looked inside.

“Oh, Jesus, girl,” he said, “don’t get all gooned up on me now.”

“I am so proud of you,” I said.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Maggie,” he said. “I owe you. Big time.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“Didn’t you seeThe Godfather? When an Italian says he owes you, don’t tell him different.”

“Fine. You can pay me back tomorrow.”

“You name it. What do you want?”

“Ninety-one days.”

“Oh, crap, don’t tell me you fell for that one-day-at-a-time trick too.”

“I didn’t realize it was a trick.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s a total con game. I’ve been drinking beer and smoking dope since I was nine years old. It took me twenty years to figure out I was an addict, but the docs at the rehab knew it as soon as I stumbled through the front door. But did they tell me to quit drinking and drugging forever? Hell no. They know they can’t get a junkie to quit doping for the rest of his life. Instead, they asked me if I can lay off just for today. I say yeah. I can do anything for a day. So I give that shit up for twenty-four hours, and what do you think they say to me the next day?”

“Wild guess,” I said. “Can you lay off just for today?”

“Exactly! Is that a scam or what? The bastards have snookered me ninety days in a row. And worse yet, I’m buying it, so when a newbie shows up, I tell him that the program is working for me, and another convert gets suckered in. I’m telling you, Maggie, this one-day-at-a-time shit is the ultimate Ponzi scheme.”

“I’ll have the DA’s office look into it immediately,” I said.

The driver of the van tooted the horn.

“That’s Gus,” Johnny said. “He’s been driving that druggie buggy for twenty-six years, and the poor dumb bastard is still high on life and bubbling over with gratitude. That’s what happens to guys who keep drinking the Kool-Aid.” A wide grin spread across his face. “I gotta go.”

Johnny Rollo had been my drug dealer, my lover, my partner in crime, and my most trusted confidant. I wanted to hug him and hold him and tell him that I, too, was bubbling over with gratitude. But I was an assistant district attorney who had convicted him of a crime, and we were standing on the courthouse steps. I extended my arm, and we shook hands.

“Thank you, Counselor,” he said. “For everything.”

He turned, and I stood there as he climbed into the van and drove off. Then I opened the paper bag and took another look at the baby gifts.

Two boxes of Pop-Tarts. One chocolate; one strawberry.

THIRTY-SEVEN

If you want to send an Irish family into joyful overdrive, give birth to a set of twins on the night before Christmas. For the next two days, well-wishers flooded the family room at the hospital to celebrate. It was loud, it was jubilant, and because visitors are welcome from seven in the morning to nine at night, it was nonstop.

That all changed when I got home, and I got to set the rules. Not only was I trying to get my kids and my own life on a schedule but I needed some respite from the hubbub, so I could spend some quality one-on-one time with my immediate family. For the next few weeks, visitations would be by invitation only.

---