Chapter 25 14th Tuesday we say goodbye

It was cold and damp as I walked up the Murray's steps.I looked around, many things that I hadn't noticed when I came here.The undulations of the hillside, the stone walls of the house, the creepers, the low bushes.I walked slowly, unhurriedly, stepping on the wet fallen leaves under my feet, sizzling. Charlotte had called the day before to say that Murray was not doing well.What she meant by this was that the time limit was not far away.Murray canceled all his appointments and slept most of the time, which was not the usual for him.He has never valued sleep, the important thing is that someone can talk to him.

Charlotte said: He wants you to come and see him, but Mitch how? He is very weak. Exposed stone steps.Grass at the door.I walked slowly and observed these things as if I were seeing them for the first time in my life.I fumbled for the tape recorder in my shoulder bag and unzipped it to make sure I had the tape.I don't know why I did this, I never forgot. Connie came to answer the door. She is usually full of energy, but today she has a serious expression and said hello in a soft voice. I asked: how is he doing? Not very good.She bit her lower lip.I really don't want to think about it.You know, he's a nice guy.

I know. God has no eyes. Charlotte came up and hugged me.She said Murray was still asleep, even though it was ten o'clock in the morning.We walked into the kitchen, I helped her tidy up, and noticed that there were many medicine bottles on the table, with brown plastic bottles and white bottle caps, as if they were being inspected in rows.My old professor is now on morphine to help him breathe easier. I put in the refrigerator what I brought to eat soup, vegetable cakes, tuna salad.I told Charlotte I was ashamed to bring these things.We all know that Murray has been unable to take a bite of these things for a long time, but it has become a habit for us.Sometimes when you're about to lose someone, you stick to some habits.

I'm waiting in the living room, Murray and Ted.Capel's first interview was done here.I picked up the newspaper on the table and read it.Two Minnesota kids played with dad's gun and wounded each other.The body of a baby was found in a trash can in an alley in Los Angeles. I put down the newspaper, stared at the hollow fireplace, and tapped the hardwood floor with my foot.At last I heard the sound of a door opening and closing, and then Charlotte's steps coming towards me. All right, she said softly: He is waiting for you. I stood up and walked to the usual place of our conversation when I saw a strange woman at the other end of the living room, sitting with her legs crossed in a folding chair, reading a book.She is a nurse sent by the hospital, and Murray has to be taken care of twenty-four hours a day.

Murray's study is empty, and I don't know what's going on.I turned around hesitantly and walked towards the bedroom. He was really inside, lying on the bed, covered with a quilt.The only time I've seen him like this was when he was getting a massage and I couldn't help but think of what he said, if you lie in bed, you're dead. I walked into the room with a forced smile on my face.He was wearing a pajamas, covered with felt from the chest down.He was so small under the blankets, like a child, I almost thought he was missing something. Murray's mouth was parted, his face was pale, his cheekbones high and his skin taut.He turned his eyes to me and tried to speak, but all I heard was a faint grunt.

My heart was tight for a while, but I still tried to say happily that he was here. He let out a breath, closed his eyes, and smiled.Even that seemed to take a lot of effort. At last he said: My dear friend I said, your friend is here. I'm not very good today It will be fine tomorrow. He exhaled with difficulty and nodded reluctantly.I saw him struggling to do something under the blanket, and finally realized he was trying to reach out. He said: hold I pulled the covers off, grabbed his fingers, and his hand sank completely into mine.I leaned forward, only about ten centimeters from his face.This was the first time I saw him unshaven, and the white pine sores on his chin looked unaccustomed, as if someone had sprinkled salt on his cheeks and chin.There is not much vitality in his body, how can these beards still have the strength to emerge?

I called softly: Murray. He corrected: Coach. I said, coach.I shuddered.He spoke with force, taking a breath and uttering a few words.His voice was weak and hoarse, and he smelled of ointment. You are a good boy. Good boy. Touch me, he said weakly, placing my hand on his heart.here. I felt as if something was stuck in my throat. coach? Ah? I don't know how to say goodbye. He patted the back of my hand lightly, and my hand was still on his heart. This is how we say goodbye. He inhaled and exhaled gently, and I felt his chest rise and fall.Then he looked straight at me. He said hoarsely: I love you.

Coach, I love you too. I know you know something what do you know? you always have His eyes rolled up, and then he cried, his face contorted into a ball like a little baby who doesn't understand human affairs.I stayed close to him for several minutes, brushing his loose skin and stroking his hair.I put my palm against his face, feeling his cheekbones and the thin shape of his face, and the little tears rolling and scattering. When his breathing gradually returned to normal, I cleared my throat and said, I know he is tired, so I will come back next Tuesday, I hope he is happy then, thank you.There was a snort from his nose, the closest he could get to a laugh, and it was sadder to hear.

I picked up my bag, which contained my tape recorder.Why am I bringing this here?I knew I wouldn't need this today.I leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek goodbye, cheek to cheek, beard to beard, skin to skin, and stayed still for longer than usual, hoping it would please him, if only for a moment also good. I said, okay?Draw back your body. I blinked back my tears as he smacked his lips together, raised his eyebrows, and looked into my face.I told myself afterwards that I had given my dear old professor a moment of relief that he had finally made me cry. He said weakly: Good.