My Heaven

Part 8: Flickering Vision (Part 1)

If we're being honest, I could've gone with a better opener. I could've told Billy I was getting into volleyball again, or one of my books got rave reviews online. Reality was seldom truthful. Yet the pain was never in short supply.

To tell one of the few friends you have left in this world you're dying, even if it fell into the "maybe" slot, I couldn't imagine what ran through his head. We didn't say anything at first, but I could tell the tension was growing in the moment. His body language was evasive, sitting on his bar stool, like he was trying to avoid the issue altogether. Even as my body felt thin, I wasn't afraid of what might come next. My anxiety was at an all-time low, my heart was steady, and my thoughts straight.

Sheesh, I thought, maybe this was it. Maybe I was gonna drop dead with Billy panicking or doing chest compressions. Did I think of "hotel medics" when going on this detour? I'd say no. The fever, the loss of movement in my legs, that hollow feeling I felt; borrowed time was about all I had.

As he downed his Palmer's brew, trying to think of what to say, I followed suit. Two gulps in, the Gold tasted like water. My "idyllic" memories with alcohol couldn't capture Palmer's real taste. I thought about delaying the discussion further by asking Ernie what was in the drink. He walked past me with empty glasses in a gray, plastic container.

I couldn't do it. Looking at Billy, he quickly side-eyed me before staring at his drink, leaving it to me to break the ice once more. Why didn't I just lead with volleyball?

"... I know it's a lot to take in." I told him. "If you need a few minutes -"

"How long?" He asked straightforwardly, looking at his drink.

"How long... do I have, or how long have I known?"

It might have been my ability to block out background noise, but the second we got into it, the whole bar went blurry. Hell, the whole world went mute as we spoke. I did my best to keep my wits intact. My left arm hung off the side as I made a fist, and while the world remained silent, the scenery slipped back into focus.

"Y'know, Billy spoke up, the minute I saw you lookin' for us in the buffet, I-I knew... something was off." His voice broke, holding back tears. "Tell me. What's going on with you, Luke?"

I took a deep sigh as I gulped my drink, searching the words to explain. Water wasn't exactly liquid courage, but a quenched throat was better than nothing.

"... There are things I need to tell you. Before I found myself in the Pantheon pool scene, I was in my apartment. As you know, life hasn't been sweet on me."

Billy shook his head, "Lucas, wh-what does that have to with -"

"I'm getting to that." I cut him off. "Please, Bill, this shit... I-I'm alone. There's no sugarcoating it. I quit my day job and lost touch with my colleagues a year after Priscilla's funeral."

"Priscilla. Yeah, I think you mentioned her when you, Hank, and I got together at that pancake place up on 9th Street."

"The Lockwood Hut." I spoke fondly. "You can be on a shoestring budget and get a tall stack that sticks to your ribs."

"Their banana milkshakes were solid, too." Bill replied. "Lucas, what happened to us? I can't shake this feeling that somethin' was lost between us. I felt it at the buffet, too."

None of this was easy, especially finding the words to convey how I felt. I didn't ask for this crap. After Hank left and Billy went on to be part of Brooklyn police, I made my peace with it. The entire detour was fictional, so it should be easy to tell a projected version of your friend they're not real either, right?