Death By Drowning Read Free

can’t wait to ree all of tem, but tell me how are ’ou, really?”
    “As well as can be expected. The bullet went through the soft tissue. No serious damage like . . . well, I’ll heal okay. I had a cute doctor who flirted with me while I was in the hospital. Even Shaneika is sweet when she sees me.”
    “Did she bi ’er horse?”
    “Oh, my gawd, is he a bruiser.” Franklin playfully grabbed my arm, causing me to yelp. “Sorry there, old girl, I forgot. You’re just put together with a little bit of glue and thread, aren’t you.”
    “It’s okay, Franklin. I’m doin’ fine.”
    “Really? Because that Gestapo commandant who takes care of you called Matt, and said you were seriously depressed . . . like you might imitate a Norman Maine swim.”
    “Wouldn’t tat be life im . . . tating art?”
    “It would be life imitating A Star Is Born – every gay man’s fantasy.”
    “No, just ’our gay Judy Garland fantasy,” I laughed.
    “Matt and I decided that you are going to die an ancient lady in bed with us watching you take your last gasp. Anything other than that, it is unthinkable. Besides where can Matt live where the rent is so great?”
    “There is no rent.”
    “Like I said, where can he live where the rent is so great.”
    “’Ow’s Matt?”
    Franklin fingered the hem of the muumuu which I now wore every day, even when swimming. “Okay, I guess. He wallows in guilt, but I tell him there was nothing he could have done.”
    “Really?”
    “Matt’s not Matt anymore. He hardly talks to me. When he’s not at work, which is eighty hours a week just about, he putters on that crappy cottage and your house – like frantic. Says he needs to fix everything before you come home.”
    “Want me to talk with him?” I asked, alarmed.
    “No, please don’t. Just get well, Josiah. Really well and come home. Then everything will work out.”
    I pounded on my legs in frustration. “If I just wasn’t still in that chair, I could be of more use,” I said, glancing at the wheelchair waiting patiently for me at the pool’s edge.
    “But ya are, Blanche. Ya are in that chair!” cried Franklin from the iconic scene in What Ever Happened To Baby Jane.
    I made a face. “Have ’ou been waiting to use that line?”
    “Ever since I knew you were in a wheelchair. Come on, you gotta admit it was a pretty good Bette Davis and you make a good Joan Crawford.”
    “It was scary.”
    “It was good.”
    “It was creepy.”
    “It sounded just like Bette Davis. Sorry, but did you lose your sense of play in the accident? Hmmmm? Was it yanked out of your ass by mistake?”
    “Okay, Franklin. It was good. Just like Davis. Now, did ’ou bring honey from home?” I didn’t want to explain that most things were not funny now. I was too busy waving off flashbacks of O’nan shooting my mastiff, Baby and me falling off the cliff with him – screaming.
    “Gobs and gobs of it. What are you doing with all that honey we keep sending?”
    “Eat it. Put on my wounds. Helps me heal faster and lessens the scars.”
    “Isn’t it sticky?”
    “Bandages absorbs honey first . . . and think it’s time bandages . . . changed.” I looked around for Jake.
    “No, wait. Josiah, I’ve got something else important to tell you.” He gently held both my hands. “Now brace yourself. Did anyone talk to you about Baby?”
    I stopped smiling. “Baby . . . never mentioned. Don’t want to know.”
    “Well, I’ve got a good surprise for you. Let him go, Jake,” called Franklin, watching my expression.
    Jake nodded and smiling, opened the patio door, calling to someone inside. Out through the door lumbered something that looked like a bewildered, tawny lion.
    “Call to him, Josiah,” said Franklin. “Let him hear your voice.”
    “Ba . . . Baby?” I cried, my voice cracking. “Baby, Baby!” I looked towards Franklin. “But ’ow?”
    Franklin didn’t get a chance to explain as Baby turned to the sound of my voice and saw me