Chapter 17

It was a quiet winter's evening in Toronto. Sundays are like that. I took a limo to the hotel, checked in, unpacked and headed for the bar. The bartender was a guy I'd never seen before. I settled on a stool at the bar and ordered a gin and tonic. Since I was one of only four or five people in the bar, I struck up a conversation with the barkeep.

"There used to be a bartender here named Adrienne."

"Oh yeah. She still works here. Terrific girl."

"Yes, she is. Off tonight, I see."

"Yeah. She takes Sunday and Monday off. Slow nights. I get those." He grinned ruefully.

"Well, I guess seniority rules."

"You can say that again. But then again this is only one of three places that I work."

"What are the others?"

"There's a new place on King Street called 'Mistra.' I have no idea why. And then there's the Eternity. That's my favourite place. It's a great atmosphere. Carole, the owner, is a great boss. People never get out of line, and the tips are terrific."

"That's quite a coincidence. Carole and her husband Danny are great friends of mine. I've gone to the Eternity for years. How come I never saw you there?"

"I've only been working there for a few months."

"Well I'll probably see you there this week."

"I'll count on it."

He wandered away to refresh the drinks of other patrons. In the back of my mind a plan was taking shape, but it wasn't quite there yet. I knew that it had something to do with the Eternity. I thought it would be best to sleep on it. I had one more drink and headed for the sack.

The next day, I got up early, did the three esses, dressed, had breakfast and headed for Princess Margaret Hospital. When I got there, I checked with the information desk. Moe was on the seventh floor. I took the elevator up.

I was greeted by a sterile, quiet corridor. I found Moe's room. The door was closed. On the wall was a dispenser and a sign warning all visitors to clean their hands before entering. I assiduously scrubbed my hands with the goo from the dispenser. Then I knocked on the door. It was opened by a young woman in a nurse's uniform. She smiled at me "Are you Mr. Connolly?" She asked quietly.

"Yes," I answered.

"Mr. Casselman has been waiting for you."

A frail voice called out, "Is that Pat?"

"Yeah, Moe, it's me," I answered.

"Then get the hell in here. It's about time you showed up. I thought I was gonna have to die alone."

I went to his beside. He looked terrible. His face was not his own. It was just skin stretched over his skull. But the eyes were his. I could tell that Moe was in there, whatever I saw on the surface. "Don't worry, Moe. You're too mean to die."

"Bullshit. Come here and sit beside me, son."

When he called me "son," my eyes welled up. I'd promised myself that I wasn't going to cry, and I had to do my damnedest to keep that promise.

"How are you feeling, Moe?"

"Weak. Shitty. You see this fucking thing?" He pointed to a blue machine on a pole. It was connected to his intravenous drip. "It's what they call a 'pain pump.' It's full of morphine. I push a button, and it gives me a shot whenever I need it. It relieves the pain, but it nauseates me, and it constipates me. I haven't been able to take a shit for days. The good thing is that this won't go on for much longer. I'm sure they've told you all that crap. The important thing is that you're here. Sit down. We need to talk."

"Sure, Moe."

"I hear that you've turned yourself around."

"I've tried. Yes, I've tried."

"That's good. I knew it would happen. You've always been a good kid. You just lost your way sometimes. I always knew that you'd find your way out of the woods."

"Well, Moe, I'm not sure that I'm totally out yet."

"How so?"

"Well, for the first time in my life, I'm in love. She's a wonderful woman, and now I'm in real danger of losing her."

"Don't let it happen, Pat. No matter what you have to do, don't let it happen."

"I'll do my best."

"I know you will. And we'll talk more about this. But first, we have to take care of legal stuff and shit like that. Have patience with me. I have to get this shit done first. OK?"

"Yeah, Moe. That's why I'm here."

"All right. In the drawer of this table here, you'll find a big envelope. Yeah, that's the one. Open it and read what's inside."

There was a legal-looking document inside. It began, "THIS IS THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF ME, MAURICE IRVING CASSELMAN, of the City of Toronto, in the Province of Ontario..."

"Moe, what the hell is this?"

"Shut up and read."

I read. After the clause revoking all other wills, it read, "I appoint PATRICK BRENDAN CONNOLLY to be the executor and trustee of this my Will."

The odd capitalization I assumed to be some sort of legalese.

There were a couple of other clauses about the powers and responsibilities of the trustee. Then, there was a bombshell.

"I give the whole of my property of every nature and kind wheresoever situate. including any property over which I may have a general power of appointment, to my said Trustee..."

I stared at him. "Jesus Christ, Moe! What the hell..."

"Pat, you're all I have. After Ruth died, I've never had anyone else. Except your mother, God rest her soul. Whatever I have is yours. Use it well."

"Moe, I can't allow you to do this. You have nieces and nephews..."

"And they're all assholes. There are some things left to them, at your discretion. But whatever I leave, I want you to have."

"Jesus, Moe." My resolve was breaking down. I was going to cry. Hell, I was crying.

"Pat, pull yourself together. We have to use this time to make plans. On the table over there you'll find a pad of paper and a pen. Got it? Good. Now, this is how I want my funeral."

Over the next couple of hours, Moe laid out the details of his funeral. Rabbi Feldman of Temple Bnai Israel was to officiate. Leo Barkin was to be the cantor. There was a list of people who were to speak. There was a longer list of people who were not to speak. There were specific details for music. Most important among the arrangements was his wish that I should say kaddish.

"Moe, I can't do this."

"You can, and you will. It's customary in my temple for the son of the deceased to be the first to say kaddish."

At this point, I broke down. It was true. Moe was my father in so many ways. And like most sons, I'd ignored his advice much of the time. If I'd paid more attention to him, I'd not only have been a much better person, I'd have avoided the troubles I was experiencing. I was going to lose the man who'd been the most important person to me for most of my life. How could I deal with that?

"Pat, shut the fuck up!"

It was like a dash of cold water in my face.

"Self pity is the last thing you need right now. You're going to be a man. I'm going to die. You're going to represent me. You're going to be my proxy. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Moe. I'll try to do you honour."

"Honour my ass! You'll do things right! You know what's right, so do it."

We talked about the arrangements for another hour or so. Then Moe wanted a nap, and I needed to get a bite of lunch.

After I returned from the hospital cafeteria, I waited in the so-called "quiet room" that was set aside for family members. I was dozing off when Moe's nurse came in. "Mr. Casselman is awake. He'd like to see you," she said. I followed her meekly.

Moe was awake and alert. He waved me to the chair by his bedside and motioned for the nurse to leave. When she'd left, Moe turned to me and asked gently, "Pat, tell me what's happened with this girl -- the one you're in love with."

"Moe, she's a wonderful person. I want to spend my life with her, but I'm not even sure that she'll ever speak to me again."

"Tell me all about it."

Over the afternoon, I told Moe about my relationship with Shauna. I told him in detail. He listened and I talked. I told him about her compassion when she heard that I'd been dumped by Tori. I told him about her tears when I told her about his illness. When I described Shauna's reaction to Carole's painting, Moe smiled. "This is her. This is the girl that I've been praying for. She sounds like a wonder."

"She is, Moe, she is."

"OK. Tell me what happened. Why did she leave you?"

I told him about the scene in the office, about the car blowing up at the absolute worst time, about Shauna's dad hating me, about the flowers, the ring -- everything.

"Jesus Christ," he said.

"Yeah," I said, "Jesus Christ up a rope."

"That mean little broad really got you. Make no mistake: she knew exactly what she was doing. I'd put money on it. But what am I going to do with money if I win?" Moe laughed until he coughed. Then he took a deep breath and continued, "Who knows? Tori may have left a message for Shauna to see you at a certain time. She may have staged the whole fucking thing down to the last second. It's not beyond her. The little bitch should have been a politician."

For some reason, the idea of Tori's staging everything had never occurred to me. I had to admit that it was in keeping with her character, but I hoped that it wasn't true. My feelings about Tori were complex. Part of me wanted to kill her, and part of me felt sorry for her.

Moe laboriously turned his head toward me. "Pat, we've taken care of the funeral stuff, the will and all that crap. Let's use the time we have left to get your lady back. We'll put our heads together tomorrow and make some plans. Right now, I'm tired as hell. I'm just a sick old fart. I have to rest. I'll see you tomorrow. They feed us here about eight or nine o'clock. Then the doctors come in and poke us around. They don't allow visitors until after feeding and poking time. How about eleven?"

We agreed on eleven the next morning. I kissed Moe on the forehead, squeezed his hand, and left.

I left the hospital. When I was outside the building, I turned on my cell phone. It had been turned off all day. Hospital regulations. I had three messages waiting. The first one was from Robin Markoff, Shauna's roommate. I immediately called her back. She answered on the first ring.

"Premiere Web Design. Robin speaking."

"Robin, it's Pat Connolly. You called me."

"Yes, I did. I hope you don't mind. I found your cell number in our phone file here in the apartment."

"No, of course I don't mind," I said.

Robin sighed. "Pat, I feel like hell about what's happened between you and Shauna. I know that she's miserable and so are you, I'll bet."

"You'd win that bet."

"I feel responsible. If I hadn't told Shauna about that damned thing in Frank magazine, maybe this wouldn't have happened."

"It's not your fault. I was set up by my former girlfriend. She deliberately tried to break us up, and it looks like she's succeeded."

"Well, I still think that I planted the seeds. Anyway, the reason I called was to tell you that Shauna's coming back to Toronto. She'll be here next week. She's asked for her old job back. She hasn't heard anything yet, but I'm sure they'll want her back. She's really good at web design."

"Yeah, I know. Thanks for letting me know. I'll be in Toronto for a while."

"If there's anything I can do, just let me know."

"Robin, there just might be something. There's actually an idea, or the germ of an idea, forming in the back of my mind. I think I'll need your help."

"You've got it. What brings you to Toronto?"

I told Robin about Moe. She was properly sympathetic. She assured me that she would do whatever she could to get Shauna and me back together. She gave me her email address, and we hung up.

I checked the other messages. One was from the Lexus dealer. They were prepared to offer me a new car to replace mine. That would have a wait a while. The other was from Joe Dudich. He'd called to ask about Moe. I called Joe and told him that things didn't look great. He made me promise to keep him informed.

After I hung up with Joe, I headed out. It was a lovely winter afternoon in Toronto, more crisp than cold. I decided to walk. It's a fair hike from the Princess Margaret Hospital to the lakefront. But I felt up to it. However, when I reached Queen Street, I decided to turn right and wander over to the Eternity.