"No," Callahan agreed. "He wasn't. Roland, I have no cigarette papers, but I can do you better for a smoke than that. There's good tobacco in the house, from down south. I don't use it, but Rosalita sometimes likes a pipe in the evening."
"I'll take you up on that later and say thankya," the gunslinger said. "I don't miss it as much as coffee, but almost. Finish your tale. Leave nothing out, I think it's important we hear it all, but - "
"I know. Time is short."
"Yes," Roland said. "Time is short."
"Then briefly put, my friend contracted this disease - AIDS became the name of choice?"
He was looking at Eddie, who nodded.
"All right," Callahan said. "It's as good a name as any, I guess, although the first thing I think of when I hear that word is a kind of diet candy. You may know it doesn't always spread fast, but in my friend's case, it moved like a fire in straw. By mid-May of 1976, Lupe Delgado was very ill. He lost his color. He was feverish a lot of the time. He'd sometimes spend the whole night in the bathroom, vomiting. Rowan would have banned him from the kitchen, but he didn't need to - Lupe banned himself. And then the blemishes began to show up."
"They called those Eaposi's sarcoma, I think," Eddie said. "A skin disease. Disfiguring."
Callahan nodded. "Three weeks after the blemishes started showing up, Lupe was in New York General. Rowan Magruder and I went to see him one night in late June. Up until then we'd been telling each other he'd turn it around, come out of it better than ever, hell, he was young and strong. But that night we knew the minute we were in the door that he was all through. He was in an oxygen tent. There were IV lines running into his arms. He was in terrible pain. He didn't want us to get close to him. It might be catching, he said. In truth, no one seemed to know much about it."
"Which made it scarier than ever," Susannah said.
"Yes. He said the doctors believed it was a blood disease spread by homosexual activity, or maybe by sharing needles. And what he wanted us to know, what he kept saying over and over again, was that he was clean, all the drug tests came back negative. 'Not since nineteen-seventy,' he kept saying. 'Not one toke off one joint. I swear to God.' We said we knew he was clean. We sat on either side of his bed and he took our hands."
Callahan swallowed. There was an audible click in his throat.
"Our hands... he made us wash them before we left. Just in case, he said. And he thanked us for coming. He told Rowan that Home was the best thing that ever happened to him. That as far as he was concerned, it really was home.
"I never wanted a drink as badly as I did that night, leaving New York General. I kept Rowan right beside me, though, and the two of us walked past all the bars. That night I went to bed sober, but I lay there knowing it was really just a matter of time. The first drink is the one that gets you drunk, that's what they say in Alcoholics Anonymous, and mine was somewhere close. Somewhere a bartender was just waiting for me to come in so he could pour it out.
"Two nights later, Lupe died."
"There must have been three hundred people at the funeral, almost all of them people who'd spent time in Home. There was a lot of crying and a lot of wonderful things said, some by folks who probably couldn't have walked a chalk line. When it was over, Rowan Magruder took me by the arm and said, "I don't know who you are, Don, but I know what you are - one hell of a good man and one hell of a bad drunk who's been dry for... how long has it been?"
"I thought about going on with the bullshit, but it just seemed like too much work. 'Since October of last year,' I said.
" 'You want one now,' he said. 'That's all over your face. So I tell you what: if you think taking a drink will bring Lupe back, you have my permission. In fact, come get me and we'll go down to the Blarney Stone together and drink up what's in my wallet first. Okay?'
" 'Okay,' I said."
"He said, "You getting drunk today would be the worst memorial to Lupe I could think of. Like pissing in his dead face.'
"He was right, and I knew it. I spent the rest of that day the way I spent my second one in New York, walking around, fighting that taste in my mouth, fighting the urge to score a bottle and stake out a park bench. I remember being on Broadway, then over on Tenth Avenue, then way down at Park and Thirtieth. By then it was getting dark, cars going both ways on Park with their lights on. The sky all orange and pink in the west, and the streets full of this gorgeous long light.