James glares at me and puts the guitar down gently. Then, in a voice that’s anything but gentle, he says, Normal, everyday people are being fired from their jobs, Michael. Do you know how many funeral homes in the city will bury someone who died from AIDS? Guess. No, wait. I’ll tell you. Precisely one. I heard Steven’s parents wouldn’t even visit the hospital to say goodbye because they were afraid of catching something. And of course they didn’t tell me, so one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, died alone.
This is the one and only time James gets mad in this book and it has nothing to do with anything anyone has done to him personally. He's very much an onion - layer after layer. I loved writing him and am grateful for whatever good fortune brought him my way.
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