16

Mags came out of the hospital room, and her eyes were red and swollen. She dropped down into the adjoining chair and gently put her arm around Jim’s shoulder. They sat motionless for about five minutes, when he got the idea of going downstairs and scoring something to eat.

“Come on, nothing we can do here. I think we are making the patients sad by…”

“You go Jim. I need to be here in case something happens,” Mags said with finality.

Jim didn’t budge for fear of hurting her feelings, so she finally pulled his neck with her arm and was firm.

“Go. It will do you good. You are a growing boy, go get a bowl of Wheaties, this is where they are made by the way.”

Jim knew that, but to remind her that the AA clubhouse was owned by the Wheaties people once upon a time, seemed fruitless.

“Oh really?”

Mags shook her head knowingly, and Jim got up to leave. Then he saw Rami come around the corner with his effervescent smile. Jim noticed everyone he passed smiled. He remembered that only happening with Jack Kennedy, the smile matching the charisma.

“Jim!” Rami said while approaching with his signature ease.

Jim couldn’t help but smile. There really was something about Rami that he couldn’t put his finger on. What was it that certain people (very few) had that made you feel good simply by being in their company? Jim felt that at once at the train station, and damned if he still felt it. He heard that Elvis had it. Maybe it was the ability to create an energy field around one self, like a bee hive.

“Rami!” Mags cried with tears streaming down her cheeks.

Jim saw his effect on Mags, and she too was moved like he had never seen before. If Jim wasn’t mistaken, she was in love with Rami. Seeing this in another man, he would have been jealous, but not with Rami-he felt- joyful.

“Bill looks so sick, I think he looks worse than before. What is happening?” she asked while Rami took her hands into his and looked serene.

Jim took this as his cue to leave and walked away from their chat with a lightness that was as if his feet weren’t touching the floor.

“Nelson! Over here!”

Jim followed the trajectory of the voice that was aimed at his auditory system. There he was-Boots Kilkenny. The big, even compared to Dunleavy’s standards, smiling face beamed as Jim loaded up his lunch plate. Kilkenny waved him over to his table, conspicuously, all alone. It must be his size that scares off mere mortals, but it came in handy when Boots flattened any and all invaders into the quarterback box.

“Come here Jim. God you are a sight,” he said standing so that everyone one in the lunch room had to see for themselves the commotion.

“Damn Kilkenny, I mean Boots, what are you doing at the hospital?”

“Aw, nothing at all. Just visiting my girlfriend, a nurse. Isn’t that the way things happen?”

Somewhere along that thought, Boots seemed to leave out an important part of the sentence structure-what ‘things happen’?

“You are so right Boots,” he replied without the urge to have him elaborate.

If Jim wasn’t mistaken, Boots Kilkenny was a good three inches taller than Dunleavy, and about fifty pounds heavier. Boots would have flattened the Chicago cop without effort, an image that Jim savored. It was good to know that even the big bullies would have bigger good guys to teach them life’s lessons.

“What are you doing her Jim, got another one pregnant?”

Not only did Boots have enormous arms, he also had very large blind spots when it came to social filters. Jim looked around, relieved that no one picked up on that errant comment.

“Oh, just visiting with Mags, a friend of ours is here, so we came to cheer him up, nothing too serious.”

Boots looked at him with that child-like demeanor he could turn on like a water faucet and couldn’t believe how violent he could be on the grid iron.

“Holy cow, if it isn’t Jim and Boots! It’s a reunion of the team!” Bobby yelled out as they came towards their table.

Boots jumped up and yelled- “Bobby D!”

He went over and hoisted Bobby up like he was a hay filled scarecrow-effortlessly. Boots set him down and patted the top of his head.

“Damn Boots, I forgot there were people this big,” he said fixing his hair.

Bobby sat next to Jim and kept shaking his head at the sight of Boots sitting at the same table.

“The memories are flooding back, I feel nostalgic. By the way Jim, you told me last night you were going to be here, so I figured I would stop by for support.

Jim thanked him.

“Mags is upstairs with Bill, and a good friend of ours stopped in, so she has her hands full,” he explained needlessly.

“I was going to meet with Sid and his pals and wondered if you wanted to go with? Hey Boots, Verne Gagne is going to be over at the Curtis Hotel, any interest in wrestling?”

Boots stopped mid chew and looked like someone had just turned on the Christmas Tree. He carefully set his fork down so as not to accidentally stab anyone.

“Really? That would be amazing Bobby. Are you sure? You think he would hire me, man I love the Crusher and Bruiser. Oh that Larry Henig is a fake, I could throw him over the top rope like nothing…”

Jim leaned over and whispered in Bobby’s ear.

“Really? Does Boots know its fake? I mean if he really goes off, he could kill…Gagne?”

Then they both started to laugh at Jim’s concerns.

“Ah, what the hell,” Jim exclaimed.

Rami was sitting on the chair alone outside Bill’s room when Jim returned. Rami smiled and patted the chair for him to sit.

“Bill looks-bad. If he pulls through, which I am hoping, but sometimes hope is the opposite of…”

He didn’t finish his thought, and Jim passed on this one too. The door opened and Mags and Carolyn appeared needing consoling. Mags leaned down and rested her head on Jim’s shoulder as Carolyn smiled at Rami. Both Jim and Rami stood, not saying a word.

“Forum?”