A Dying Man’s Request

Jerome asked his girlfriend, Tiffany, out on a date to the movies. They watched a film about a dying woman and her relationship with a misguided young man. The couple felt the film was mediocre at best. The story was neither compelling nor believable. It didn’t help that the dying woman was played by Sophia Loren and the misguided teenager was played by Tony Soprano’s son from The Sopranos, but the movie did provide something interesting in the couple’s night together after the movie.
After the movie, they went to a coffee shop for tea. After talking about the movie’s flaws, Tiffany said, “Oh, yeah. I forgot. The wife of that man I was taking care of wrote me a letter of recommendation for that scholarship.”
“What man?” asked Jerome.
“You know, Richard. The man who had pancreatic cancer.”
“You never told me about him.”
“I didn’t? I got that job last summer as a caretaker.”
“Well, I had that job in Toronto during the summer. Maybe that’s why you didn’t tell me. Is that why you wanted to watch that awful movie?” asked Jerome.
“No. I didn’t know it was going to be about a dying person. I wanted to see what that kid from The Sopranos was up to.”
“He’s a really bad actor. So you took care of a dying man with cancer?”
“Yes. He was bed-ridden.”
“Wow. I didn’t know you did that. Can I see the letter of recommendation?”
“Sure,” said Tiffany as she sipped her tea, took out a copy of the letter of recommendation from her bag, and handed it to Jerome. After reading the letter, he said, “Wow. I can’t believe you did that. I’m honored to be your boyfriend.” Tiffany smiled then put her hand over Jerome’s hand on the table.
“So the guy had multiple caretakers, and he fired them all except for you?” asked Jerome.
“Yeah, I was surprised by that too. Seven caretakers is a lot. I wonder why he liked me so much.”
“Because you’re a great gal who’s pretty, witty, sexy, and…” Jerome reading the letter said, “stimulating according to Mrs. Wales.” Tiffany started blushing. Jerome continued, “And you’ve got such lovely hands,” as he caressed her hand. But as he did, her hand grew stiff. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“You seem like–”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Okay, okay.”
They drank their teas in silence for a minute then Jerome asked, “I wonder why she chose stimulating to describe you. That’s—I don’t know, seems like a strange choice for an adjective.”
“Yeah. That is strange.”
“Well, why did she use it?”
“How am I supposed to know? I didn’t write the letter.”
“I just don’t understand why she would say something like that.”
“Are you going to inquire about the word choice for the rest of the night?” asked Tiffany.
“It’s bothering me.”
Tiffany put her mug to her mouth, but there was no more tea. She set it down then said, “All right. Do you really want to know why she said that?”
“Yes,” replied Jerome.
“Okay. During my job as Mr. Wale’s caretaker– No, I can’t say.”
“Come on. Now, I’m intrigued. Just tell me.” She crossed her arms. “Tiffany, come on. I’m going to keep bothering you. What did you do? Dance for him? Tickle him? Massage–”
“I gave him hand jobs,” interrupted Tiffany.
Jerome sat there for a long moment of silence. “You… uh, you… what?”
“I touched him – shall I go on?”
“But… we… we were going out, Tiffany.”
“I know, but he was a dying man. It was his dying man’s request.”
“But we were going out.”
“He was dying. What was I supposed to say? No? That’s rude.”
“Rude?! You cheated on me!”
“No, I didn’t. He was at the end of the line. No one cared about him. He had no visitors. I gave him some pleasure before he died. What’s wrong with that?”
“You don’t do that if you’re in a relationship.”
“I didn’t know you were so selfish.”
“How am I being selfish?”
“He was in pain, Jerome. Serious pain. I alleviated it, but you feel it’s wrong since we’re dating? What if you were dying of cancer, and you had the opportunity to have your member sucked off by a young pretty witty girl?”
“You gave him a blowjob?!”
“…”
“Jesus, Tiffany. I thought– I– Tiffany, Jesus.”
“All right. Maybe I took it a little too far with the blowjob, but–”
“A little too far?”
“Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have done it, but it was only once, and I didn’t think it was that bad because Mrs. Wales encouraged it. She even applauded me.”
“Did he finish in your…” Jerome took a moment, struggling to finish his question, so Tiffany finished it for him. “Mouth?”
Jerome slammed his forehead against the table, and let it stay there. He started weeping quietly then asked, “Did you– did you like it at all?”
“It felt dirty.”
“What does that mean?”
“It just felt dirty.”
“Oh, God. Someone told me relationships were difficult, but I never imagined this. I always thought it would be trivial things like hair on soap or leaving the toilet seat up. I mean, that’s what my parents argued about. Not giving blow jobs to old guys with their wives cheering them on. Why couldn’t Mrs. Wales just give him sexual pleasures? Why you? Why did you have to do that?” said Jerome with his head still on the table.
“You would do the same thing if you were in my position. I regretted the blowjob, but… you only have one life to live.”
“Don’t be sappy.”
“Let me finish. If I can help someone approaching death then I should do it. You should do it. I believe everyone should be happy when they pass as sappy as that sounds. I’m a humanist. I’m emphatic. I’m–”
“A whore,” said Jerome as he got up and walked away leaving the coffee shop. Tiffany stayed there at the table and looked at her hands.
“Tiffany? Is that you?”
Tiffany turned around and saw Mrs. Wales standing there. She was wearing an eyepatch.
“Mrs. Wales, your eye. What happened?”
Mrs. Wales looked down for a moment then at Tiffany again. “I have uveal melanoma. Eye cancer.”
“Oh my God,” said Tiffany.
“Tiffany. I need a caretaker… of the most stimulating nature,” said Mrs. Wales either winking or blinking.