Lighthouse Nights

14

part two: summer, 2011

“i filled out the organ-donor information on the back of my license.”

“that’s good, blake. very kind of you.”

“every thursday i see charlie at the hospice. charlie needs a liver. maybe when they find me, they can give him mine?”

“that’s a good thing to write in your note.”

“that’ll be my very next sentence! you’re full of good ideas, rosie. i’m glad you’re here.”

“try to focus, hon. and remember, don’t mention me. keep this note about yourself.”

“the world can be cruel, rosie.”

“focus, blake.”

“katie didn’t ask for me, rosie. all she ever wanted was NORMAL. dad wanted normal too. instead they got ME.”

“i’m sorry.”

“that’s what i like about you, little rosie. you understand me. katie understood too. she was a good lady; said she was enabling me, so she kicked me out. i'm telling her in my note that it’s not her fault; that kicking me out was just what i needed. told her it’s not her fault that i’m killing myself.”

“i think that’s sweet.”

“katie deserves better. deserves a-a-a real prince charming. somebody that can take c-care of her and buy her earrings.”

“it’s about that time, hon.”

“time?”

“to do this.”

“so soon? maybe we c-could talk for just a-a-a little longer.”

“we’ve been talking for two days, blake. it’s time.” jules lifted her skirt and unclipped the case of pills.

“what are those, rosie?”

“pills. like we talked about online.”

“no pills, rosie. i will not swallow any COCK-SUCKING pills.”

jules was higher than a kite and teetered the line between “finish the damn job” and “catatonic.” luckily, blake’s bathroom already smelled like crusted puss and mold; so she managed to sneak away six times in six hours to light up in the rare haven from her boyfriend’s incredulous eye. “if you won’t take the pills, how did you plan on doing this?” she asked.

blake nodded to the massive window on the far left wall. “i took out the screen. managers say we’re not supposed to do that, but i did it for us, rosie.”

a sudden onset of paranoia wrapped its cold fingers around her neck. calm down, jules. it’s just bad weed. “i’d really like to use the pills, blake. maybe you—”

“NO. FUCKING. PILLS.” blake wrangled himself from the floor to a standing position, then slowly carried himself across the forsaken condominium as if he was nursing an entire keg instead of a single bottle of whisky. his free arm jerked rapid circles as he spun the window’s lever and welcomed the stale air, perpetual grit, and dull mechanical drone of DETROIT into the sixteenth-floor wasteland loft.

jules was too blazed to care. “why can’t you swallow pills, blake?”

“pills pills pills pills PILLS. always pills, rosie. every day there’s more pills and more pills and more pills and they don’t work THEY DO NOT WORK.” his hand clenched her shoulder.

she flinched.

“i’m sorry i screamed, rosie. you’re a good gal for putting up with me. that katie was a good gal too. whenever i got angry...”