As I sat on the seven train as it trucked down the track toward Manhattan I wondered why I didn’t just take the stolen GTO I got last night by Skillman park. I mean it was parked right outside my door and I could have just got in and drove. Was I going soft? Or maybe I needed time to think about life. I did like watching people, maybe that’s why. When I drive, I just drive. Here I observe. As I sat, I looked up and down the train car. I was wondering where everyone was going. What’s the purpose of all this. What’s the meaning of this life? Everyone is going somewhere and doing something. Do they have to, I wondered?

Some looked happy some looked sad. Some people looked tired and some just stared. Were they coming home from work or going to. It just didn’t make sense and I felt it should. Work to pay the rent and food to eat. Take a girl out to dinner? Or just a treat. As I looked around I made a mental note of everyone and what they were wearing. The lady with the big hat and sunglasses. Who was she hiding from? I wanted some answers. At least where she were going and why. I just didn’t know and I wanted to. I stared at the fat white kid and the black skinny guy. I thought, one day I’m going to ask everyone on this damn train where they’re going. Then say hi. I looked at all the faces in the car of the train I was in. It bothered me. So many expressions. Some people looked down right miserable. I became one of them. I was blending.

I stayed on the seven and got off first stop in the city. Grand Central. A big guy bumped into me. I push him off. “You got a problem asshole?" I said. He could have wiped the platform with me on any other day but today. I looked in his eyes. I saw the fear. He turned away. He knew not to fuck with me this day.

I walked up the steep incline to the number six and waiting for the down town local. I got off twenty third street and walked east. There it was standing right in front of me. It blocked the sun as I walked in the entrance darkness surrounded me. I took the elevator to the 4th floor. I stopped by the front desk. I pulled out my Hawaiian driver license and passed it to the woman behind the glass. She looked at it and smiled. "Hawaii huh? Must be beautiful."

I grinned. “Where is he?"

She saw my mood turn and quickly looked at her clip board and said room 478. It was ironic because that number won a lot of money on many occasions with the bookies in the neighborhood. I walked away from her then into his room.

Seeing him in the VA hospital dying was a shock. The many tubes coming out of his body. I could tell he was not going to be around long. Terminal cancer does that. I guess. I was afraid to go over to him. He was facing the window so he didn’t see or hear me come in.

The doctor was adjusting an IV. He was a young guy in his thirties. He had a mustache like mine. His hair was short. My hair was past my shoulders. I had that, I get high look in my eyes and I can be quite dangerous. He had the, I save lives look. But maybe not his time. Thinking about this comparison now makes me feel less than a son.

He walked straight over to me, smiled and pulled me over to the side of the room by the door. He knew I didn’t want to be here. Not like this anyway. “I’m Dr. Bloom.” I looked past him to the reason I was there. He didn’t look the same. Was he was resting?

“I’m John. That’s my Dad” He nodded , he somehow knew. I shook his hand. As I did I saw his wedding ring and wondered when I would get married. Surely my dad won’t be around for it. He’d never meet his grand kids. Not unless one of my ex girlfriends calls tonight and says she is eight months pregnant. But I doubt that will happen. I’m pretty safe.

“Your dad said you were in Hawaii.” I nodded. “He talks about you all the time. Hawaii huh?” I don’t know where this is going, but I feel something about to break.

"You smoke?" I nod again and pull out a pack of Marlboro’s from my shirt pocket and offer him one. I’m up to a pack and a half a day now I think to myself. He smiles back at me and says “No, do you smoke ?” he has a sly look on his face. Ahh I think. I pull up my pants leg and pull out an ounce of Hawaiian weed that I hid in my sock. I let the bag unroll and watch the magic start as his eyes bulge and brighten. “That’s what I’m talking about.” He smiles. It’s green florescent with red hairs coming out of the buds. Pure perfection if I say so myself. But I don’t say.

“See John, if your dad smoked a joint he will be able to eat. The nausea won’t let him. He’s under a hundred pounds now. He was up over three hundred when he got here. The chemo is making him sick and the weed will help give him an appetite. You understand?”

“I do.”

“Maybe you can talk to him. We tried but we get nowhere.” I now see the doctor’s mouth is watering as he is keeps peeking at the buds in the bag, while he tells me what’s I’m not really listening cause I can see what’s going on. I instead take the cellophane off my Marlboro pack and in front of his face slide 3 big buds in it and hand it to ole Doc Bloom.

“In case someone else needs it” I smile with a wink. "It’s potent stuff. One hit last four hours. In the zone, if you know what I mean.” He smiles in agreement. He knows for sure. He has his weed eye on. I shake his other hand.

“Thanks” he says and pockets it into his lab coat guarding it like he should. He quickly walks out. I though, one hit of that shit and he’ll be in full bloom.

Now here comes the hard part. The reason I’m here. I walk over to the bed. Dad turns towards me. He focuses then he smiles. Then looks with concern. I stare at the man I love. One brown eye, one blue eye staring back at me. Both are flooded with water. “What’s up Reidy? I’m fuckin' dying.”

“I know. You think I’m blind or just stupid? Don’t answer that just yet." I hold the bag of weed at him. "Doc said you should smoke some of this.” Then I think of the last time I was arrested and he hid a pound of weed I had stashed in the house so the cops or my mom wouldn’t find it. Then he gave it back to me after I was bailed out of jail. He told me to get rid of it because if mom found it she’d flush it. He was sensible that way, and he knew it cost. I think of the last time I did an armed robbery with him. The last football game he watched me play. The last time we laugh at someone else’s expense. The last time he said he was proud of me.

Still holding the bag, I say. “Dad those cigarettes you smoke are stronger than this shit. This will make you wanna eat. Maybe even get laid. There’s a cat house down the block.” He smiles at my humor. “You’re wasting away.”

He squints, “I’ll still kick your ass Reidy.” I believe him. It’s true. He’s only in his fifties. But what a life he’s lived. Ten times the normal guy. “That’s shit is for you young kids." He grunts. "I’m a ball and a beer type guy. You understand right?”

“Yeah I get it.” I could only think of all the times when I shared beer and whiskey with him from age two on up. And now he won’t even share a joint with me. I was disappointed. But it’s okay. He rolled over facing the window again. I lay down in the bed with him and put my arm around his waist. I kissed his neck. I hugged him tight. The toughest guy I ever met in my life. My dad was dying.