"No."
"It's not too late to repent of your sins. The Lord's forgiveness is infinite."
Lenny closed his eyes. "I have nothing to say."
He felt the sharp prick of the IV in his arm. For a second the terror welled up again. He wanted to vomit, but his stomach was empty. His bowels, too, thank God. A few seconds later, the sedatives began to do their work. Lenny felt his heart rate slow, and a warm, sleepy feeling creep over him.
He thought about his mother. She was wearing the one pretty dress she owned, a floral, Liberty print, and she was dancing around the kitchen, and his father was drunk again and yelling at her, "Rachel, get in here!" and then he staggered in and hit his mother and Lenny wanted to kill him...
He thought about the Quorum Ball. It was 1998 and he was untouchable, a god, watching Wall Street's lesser mortals compete with one another just to be near him, to touch his clothes or hear him speak. He wished his mother could have been there...
He thought about Grace, her trusting, innocent face, her glorious, naked body that had once been his delight. She was talking to him, singing in that sweet child's voice of hers: I don't want children, Lenny. I'm so happy as we are. There's nothing missing, and he opened his mouth to tell her he loved her, and there was nothing missing for him either, but then her face changed and she was old and sad and angry and she was pointing a gun at him, not just pointing but firing, over and over and over, bang, bang, bang, and John Merrivale was screaming NO! but the shots kept coming...
He was on the boat, exhausted, the axe still in his hand. He tried to stand but he couldn't; he was slipping everywhere. The deck was slick with blood and water from the storm and the boat was lurching, rocking wildly, and he was sure he was going to go overboard. And he looked up and there was the chopper, fighting against the wind like a giant insect, and Graydon lowered the rope and he was climbing, hanging on for dear life, pulling himself up, up into the heavens, and Graydon was gone but his mother was there again, Come on, Len, you can do it, darling. You can do anything you want to... and he cried out, "I'm coming, Ma! I'm coming! Wait for me!" and her arms were around him and he had never felt happier in his life.
THE RABBI LOOKED AT THE DOCTORS. "Is that it?"
"That's it," said one. "He's gone."
"Not fair, is it?" said another. "For a heartless butcher like him to die with a smile on his face? He should have suffered."
The rabbi did not reply, but walked sadly away.
EPILOGUE
GRACE WALKED OUT OF THE HOSPITAL and down the street. New York looked its most beautiful in the spring sunshine, as vibrant and alive as she had ever known it. The streets were thronged with people, rushing about the business of life as if it mattered. It was at once familiar and strange, like walking through a dream that she had had many times before.
She was alive. She was free. Grace understood that these things were supposed to make her happy. She wondered if they ever would.
Looking back over her shoulder at the hospital, she thought fondly of Mitch Connors. Mitch was a good man. A kind man. Grace had sensed that from the beginning. In another life, a different dream, I could have loved him. But that chance had passed, blown away like a feather in the wind. She knew she would never go back.
Would she really go abroad? Probably. Or perhaps she would simply fade away here, as she had before, disappear into the comforting anonymity of the city.
Turning the corner, Grace Brookstein walked toward the subway. The crowds on the sidewalk opened up to let her in, then closed around her like a womb.
She was gone.