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Chapter 30

 

From the Past  – February 1995

 

Five Months Later

 

 

There is no end of it, the voiceless wailing,

No end to the withering of withered flowers,

To the movement of pain that is painless and motionless,

To the drift of the sea and the drifting wreckage,

The bone's prayer to Death its God

 

T.S. Eliot  - The Dry Salvages

 

          Maybe it was a portent of things to come, or maybe it was just bad coincidence, but when Micah arrived back in his dorm room, the phone was blinking, indicating that a message was waiting. He pushed the button. "This is a message for Micah Kingman. This is the Today show. We are in a town called Colfax, and we're doing a follow-up story on child prodigies that we featured six years ago and where they are today. Please call me anytime at..." and the person furnished a telephone number.

 

          "Shit," Micah said but picked up the phone and dialed the number. An overly cheery voice answered. The television crew had been to Endicott, and they'd been to the Idanha school, and now they wanted to interview the Guarneri Boy himself.

 

          "I have a test tomorrow, and I really don't have anything to say. I'm following my life as best I can. But thank you for your interest."

 

          Micah hung up and was barely able to concentrate for his test. He slept fitfully; the phone call from the Today show had been unnerving – but not in comparison with what was about to happen: the second blow.

 

* * * * *

          "Casey?"

 

          The boy turned his head and recognized Micah, who was on the sidewalk behind him. "Micah?" Micah nodded and then watched Casey's demeanor wilt. "I called your home, and they said you were in Walla Walla, but I didn't know how to find you here. But you found me."

 

          Casey's dark-blond hair was uncombed, dirty and greasy and clinging to a lean, starvation-stricken face. His clothes looked as if they had been purchased at Goodwill a long time past. They were ill-fitting, missing buttons and were stained in a number of places. He was unshaven, and his scraggly-bearded face was gaunt and probably hadn't been washed in a week.

 

          "You look...," Micah hesitated.

 

          "...awful?"

 

          "...awful, yes, but it's great to see you."

 

          "Do you really mean that?"

          "Of course, why wouldn't I?

 

          Casey was silent for a few minutes, then said quietly: "Because you don't know what's happened to me."

 

          "What has happened to you, Casey?"

 

          "It's okay." Casey looked away. "I'm getting by."

 

          "Why are you in Walla Walla, for God's sake?"

 

          "Just passing through. I hitched a ride from Portland. I was going to Spokane, but my ride was going through Walla Walla, so I decided to stay here; I knew you were here. The guy who brought me here told me he would drive me to Spokane next week. He must have liked how I rewarded him for his ride." The last observation was ruefully stated with a forced smile on Casey's face.

 

          Micah stared Casey in the eyes until Casey turned away. "What's wrong, Casey?"

 

          "Everything. My life, my future, my present, my past."

 

          "Can I buy you a cup of coffee, and maybe we can talk about it?" Micah guided Casey into Merchant's, found a seat in a corner in the back of the balcony, got Casey's order and went to the counter. He paid for the coffees, added a couple of pastries, waited a few minutes and was on his way back to Casey.

 

          Casey wasn't there. There was no trace of him.

 

          "Shit." Micah looked around, unsure of what to do next. Two minutes later, Casey emerged from the direction of the men's room, his face clean, his clothes showing wet spots where he had tried to sponge-clean some of the dirt off. Micah sighed in relief; he had sensed that something was terribly amiss with Casey and felt that his worrying over him was justified, so he had been afraid Casey had run off.

 

          Casey sat down, and Micah put a mocha latte and pastry in front of him. The pastry disappeared in an instant. Micah set the other pastry in front of Casey, with the same result.

 

          "Are you still hungry, Casey? How about a bagel and cream cheese?"

 

          Tears rose in Casey's eyes as he nodded his head. Micah excused himself and went back to the counter and placed the order and added a replacement pastry for himself. The barista said she would bring the orders up to their table.

 

          Micah sat down across from Casey and looked at him closely until Casey averted his eyes. "Spill it," Micah ordered. "Tell me what's happened since the Idanha School. Did you finish and graduate?" It had been a year and a half since they had gone their separate ways at the end of the school year.

 

          Casey hesitated, his hands crumpling and twisting a paper napkin. "I went home feeling pretty good about myself. My dad kicked me out of the house after two weeks. I wasn't meeting his expectations."

 

          "What does that mean: `meeting his expectations'?"

 

          "He guessed that the Idanha School hadn't changed the fact that I was gay, and he didn't want to have anything more to do with me. Mom didn't say anything, so I found my belongings on the porch, myself on the street with no money, no job, no diploma, nothing."

 

          "How did he know you were still gay?

 

          "I told him."

 

          Micah closed his eyes then opened them slowly and looked Casey in the eye. "You told him? You didn't keep that quiet."

 

          "I figured he'd find out in time, so I just shortened the timeline."

 

          "Go on. What happened next?"

 

          "I hitched to Portland and did, um, odd jobs to get along." Micah looked at Casey until Casey was forced to break the silence. "I sold myself on the streets."

 

          Micah was dumbfounded and deeply saddened. Here was a boy he had befriended many months prior and who he felt was ready to handle his life, only to find him 17 months later in total disarray.

 

          "I was foolish. I took chances." Then he said in a bare whisper: "I have AIDS."

 

          "Oh, God. I am so, so sorry." Micah took Casey's hand and drew it to his lips. "Oh, God, God, God." Micah was distraught that such a beautiful boy – and Micah was surprised to think that he thought Casey beautiful – would come to such a disastrous state.

 

          A silence fell between them. Micah was thinking how to react. Casey feared rejection.

 

          "Come back to my dorm. We'll figure out something." Micah said.

 

          "Could you just take me to Spokane?" Casey's eyes were pleading.

 

          "I have a class at 11, but after that, sure. I'll take you if that's what you really want. Meantime, come to my dorm and get cleaned up."

 

          Micah telephoned David to tell him that something had come up and they couldn't get together that evening.

 

* * * * *

 

          The three-hour drive to Spokane took them along U.S. 12, through Waitsburg and Colfax and up U.S. 195 through the eastern side of the Palouse. Micah considered driving through Endicott and stopping at his home on the way back if he had time. Casey slept most of the way and was silent much of the remainder of the time even as Micah tried to draw him out as the miles sped by quickly. Micah wanted to restore the camaraderie that they had had at Idanha, but something seemed to be missing – or broken – with Casey.

 

          "Where shall I take you?" Micah asked as they neared Spokane.

 

          "Downtown. Anywhere. I'll call my, uh, uncle to come and get me."

 

          "I'll take you to where you want to go. I'll take you to your uncle's," Micah offered.

 

          "Just downtown is fine. My uncle can come get me."

 

          Micah took the exit to Third Avenue. "Where now?"

 

          "Just pull over." Micah pulled his pickup to the curb. Casey opened the door quickly as if to escape without a word, then thought better of it and turned to Micah. "Thanks, Micah. I wish things were different." He took Micah's hand and kissed it, turned and left the pickup, his pack hitched to his back with one strap.

 

          "Wait," Micah yelled. "Let me give you my phone number." He found a piece of paper in the glove box and wrote his dorm number on it. "Call me if you need me. Please." Micah also handed Casey a $50 bill with the phone number.

 

          "I can't take that," Casey said, trying to hand the money back.

 

          "Take it. You might need a taxi to get you to your uncle's. You can return it to me some day when you get settled."

 

          "Thanks." Casey slipped the paper into his shirt pocket and put the $50 bill in his wallet. He looked at Micah with tears built up over the years pouring down his face. Then, embarrassed, Casey turned quickly away.

 

          Micah sat at the wheel and stared as Casey dropped down onto Third and turned right. It was the last time he would see Casey alive.

 

 

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