Right to Die

a moment. Okay.” Pushing one button, then another, Wonsley took a breath and said, “Alec, John Cuddy’s here. Do you... right. Right, I will.”
    Wonsley pushed only one button this time and didn’t muffle the receiver. “Go ahead. And try to be... up, okay?”
    I said, “Okay.”
    Opening the inner door, I could see Bacall rising behind a magnificent cherry desk. The flakes fell lightly outside a tall bay window framing the Common across the street. There was a large Kurdistan rug on the floor, a smaller one hanging on a wall.
    Even though the room was very warm, Bacall wore a cable sweater and his trademark double-pleated slacks. From a distance of twenty feet, he looked stooped still but boyish, with color in his cheeks and no bags under his eyes. He said, “John. Good to see you.”
    Wonsley’s comment about “being up” kept me to “Same here” instead of a relieved “You’re looking well.” Fortunately, too, because at close range the illusion became transparent. The handshake was still like steel, but awfully dry and almost brittle. And the face...
    “Is there some development regarding Maisy’s case?” We took our seats, and I filled him in. Four times in five minutes Bacall coughed deeply into a handkerchief.
    After I finished, he said, “It sounds as if you’ve worked diligently without flushing anything to wing.”
    “That’s about right.”
    Bacall coughed again, harder and longer than before. He tossed the handkerchief into the wastebasket and took another from a side drawer of the desk. “Kleenex would be more sensible, but I’ve always preferred cloth.” He pursed his lips. “Did Del say anything to you?”
    “No.”
    A wry smile. “Oh, my, John, I do hope you lie better to those who don’t know you. After we saw you and... Nancy ?”
    “Right.”
    “After we saw you and Nancy at First Night, I had a series of tests. They came back positive.”
    “Positive.”
    “Yes. The clinic was very good about it. They’ve had a lot of practice in being very good. They should do something about using the word ‘positive’ though, don’t you think? I mean, ‘positive’ really shouldn’t mean what they use it to mean, if you’ll forgive the redundancy.”
    “When you say the tests came back...”
    “The tests showed AIDS, John. Not just exposure, not just AIDS-Related Complex.”
    “Alec, I’m sorry.”
    “John, I’m sorry to spring this on you. But I couldn’t believe you hadn’t noticed anything New Year’s Eve, and I wanted you to hear it, or most of it, from me.”
    “Does Andrus know?”
    “Not yet. I left a message at the school for her to call.”
    “Tommy Kramer?”
    “Yes. He’s reviewing my will and... oh, I’m sounding pessimistic, aren’t I?”
    When I didn’t reply, Bacall went on. “There will be good days and bad days. This is one of the good ones, I’m pleased to tell you. And Del ’s been able to keep me from looking ghastly by the judicious application of makeup. He’s a marvel at it, used to work backstage in summer stock here and there. I must admit, though, it makes me feel just a bit like a drag queen to doll up this way.”
    “What about those new drugs?”
    “My doctor—or doctors, one of the problems with the disease is that you suddenly have more medicos on you than a star halfback with a bruised toe. My doctors are not optimistic about them because of the diabetes. But they’re thoughtful, caring people, and they’re working on it.”
    I nodded.
    “There’s something else I want you to know, too, John. My condition doesn’t affect my concern for Maisy and her situation. Not one iota. Whatever you need from me, you’ll have. Del and I will be winding down the business to manageable proportions. If worse comes to worst, he can decide whether to revive it or instead sell it for the good will and leasehold value.” Bacall gestured at the window. “It is a hell of a view.”
    “Alec, I won’t—”
    “Forgive me for interrupting, John, but I want this understood. Winding down the business means Del and I will have more time for each other, but it also means that, good day or bad, I’ll have time for Maisy and the cause. More time, ironically enough, than I’ve ever been able to devote before. I intend to stay active for a long, long time. If you need energy, resources, just plain legwork or telephoning, you let us know, and it’s yours.”
    “I understand. Thank you.”
    Bacall swiveled his chair gently toward the