“You give me that ole bourbon you got, and I’ll make you one.”I smile and sip my bourbon and branch water, then tip the glass in his direction. ...��You know you can’t have it. The doctors say your liver is on its last legs as it is.”We’re sitting close to the bridge leading from Dumaine into Louis Armstrong Park. It’s a gorgeous Saturday afternoon a few weeks after Mardi Gras. The trash from the crowds is cleaned up and everyone is as sober as a judge for Lent. I’m drinking for medicinal purposes.. He'd hang out at the library for a while andthen walk to my house from there; we lived seven blocks from thelibrary, an easy walk in this weather. (He had just turned sixteenafter the school year started, and had a provisional driver's license,but he didn't have a car yet.)"There's something weird going on here," he said. "I don't know if Ishould even bother telling you on the phone, you won't believe me...I'll email you some photos. Just get over here as soon as you can,okay?" He hung up. More

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