Read Online My Friend Leonard by James Frey - Free Book Online Page A

here?
    Come here.
    How’d you get in my apartment?
    Just come here.
    I stand.
    What?
    He motions me forward.
    Come here.
    I step toward Leonard, he steps toward me. He opens his arms and he puts them around me.
    I’m sorry for your loss.
    I start to speak, but I can’t.
    I’m so sorry.
    I start to cry.
    He hugs me.
    I start to cry.

 
    I cry.
    In the shower.
    As I brush my teeth.
    As I get dressed.
    Cry.
    I’ve never experienced anything like this, nothing else comes close. Grief, sorrow, sadness, pain pain pain. A hole in my chest that cannot be filled. A wound that is leaking. A break that I can’t repair, I’m broken and I can’t repair myself and there’s nothing I can do.
    I cry as I get dressed.
    I cry.
    I take a deep breath, compose myself. I step out of the bathroom. Leonard and the Snapper are waiting for me. We leave the apartment and I lock the door and we walk to their car, which is sitting at the curb. It’s new and large. A white, four-door Mercedes-Benz with black one-way windows. From what Leonard has told me, it is the only type of car that he will own, ride in or drive. He opens the front passenger’s door and climbs inside. Snapper opens the driver’s door and sits behind the wheel. I get in the backseat and Snapper starts the engine and we pull away from the curb. We drive out to the lake, head south down Lakeshore Drive toward the center of the city. I stare out the window, the lake is frozen, the trees without leaves, the wind strong enough that I feel it pushing the car.
    Leonard turns around, speaks.
    You hungry?
    I look at him.
    Yeah.
    You look thin.
    Jail food, and I haven’t been eating much since I’ve been here.
    I hate fucking jail food.
    Snapper speaks.
    Me too. That shit sucks.
    Leonard speaks.
    I always try to pay someone to bring me real food.
    Snapper speaks.
    Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.
    Leonard speaks.
    I should have done that with you. Paid some motherfucker to bring you a Big Mac.
    I laugh.
    It’s not funny. You’re too thin. You look sick. We’re going to fatten you up while we’re here.
    I smile.
    Okay.
    When we get where we’re going, I’m going to order you some bacon. A big plate of nothing but bacon.
    Okay.
    And then we’ll get a big lunch.
    Okay.
    And then we’ll get a big dinner. A huge fucking dinner. Steaks, spinach, cake, all kinds of tasty shit.
    I laugh.
    And you can bring your friends. However many you want. Everybody’s welcome.
    Laugh again.
    It’s good to see you laughing, my Son. It’s good to see that. I’d be very scared if I couldn’t make you laugh.
    No reason to be scared, Leonard.
    You just had a fucking bomb dropped on you. You seem okay, but that doesn’t mean I’m not scared.
    I’m fine, Leonard.
    You keep saying that to yourself and eventually you will be fine, but don’t try to lie to me about it now. I know you’re not fine, and you shouldn’t expect to be, and that’s okay.
    I look at him.
    It’s okay to be fucked-up, James.
    And it all comes back. I look down, bite my lip, try to stop myself from crying.
    It’s okay.
    I nod, try to hold back the tears. I turn away from Leonard, look out the window, he leaves me to myself. I try to hold back the tears, but I can’t. We drive south toward the city. The lake is frozen. I stare out the window, the tears run down my cheeks.
    We reach a sweeping turn in the drive there is frozen beach on our left, we take a right into a mass of steel and stone and glass. We start to drive down Michigan Avenue, skyscrapers line both sides of the street. The sidewalks are crowded, people bundled and warm, nobody here is bothered by the cold. The Hancock lies ahead of us, grows larger as we approach, wide and strong a majestic tower of black steel, I try to follow it with my eyes it stretches beyond my line of sight. I look straight up. It rises higher.
    We take a