We're in the small ward of Hope for Kids hospital. The sky outside the windows is watercolor blue but inside everything is white. The doctor gives me a serious look and tells me that there's nothing 2 be done, and my heart stops.
"No" he says solemnly almost with a hint of anger "because this is a REAL hospital, and we don't treat teddybears."
I look around in the small room until I understand it must be Aloysius he's talking about. I show him the pad of 100$ bills Black convinced me to bring. He nods, still solemly.
"The advantages of America's system with private hostpitals" he says "is we can always make exceptions 4 the truly needy."
Now me and Black are in the car. Roof down. Aloysius is next to me, under two blankets, wearing a huge bandage. If he's feeling better though is hard to say.
No word from the attorney. The date for the funeral is still the 32:nd of august and he is still in Hawaii.