Page 94 of Life After You

“You look to be in a sorry state.” He pulls a flask from his vest pocket and holds it out. “Here. Have a swig. It’ll steady ya.”

I groan. Shaking my head. He shoves it against my chest. “Ain’t got much of a choice, sonny.” I glare at him, and he scowls. “You best not look at me with that tone of voice, or I’ll fetch you a hidin’” His accent is rough, aged, like whiskey and cigarettes. “So…what painin’ ya?”

Painin’? I don’t know what he means.

“A friend…”

“Oh?” he tips his head. “This friend a girl?”

I nod. Swallowing hard. I take a sip of the scotch—it burns like fire all the way down. Another. Before I can take a third, he snatches it back and downs some himself.

“Figures,” he mutters. “They’re always good at twistin’ us up, have us trippin’ over our damn selves.”

“Something like that…”

“She dump your ass or what?” I shake my head, the shock of nearly falling making me shake.

“She’s… she’s in surgery.” I say, weakly.

“Surgery? And you’ve given up on her like that? Shee-it son.”

My body tenses. The panic, the fear—it’s back, flooding through me.

“She was in an accident…I don’t know…I don’t—”

“Alright, son. Don’t force it.”

He pulls out a pack of Camels, lighting one with the click and ping of his steel lighter. Then he offers me the pack. I shake my head. He takes the cigarette from his own lips and presses it to mine instead. “This’ll help steady you, too.” The smoke stings my eyes, but I inhale anyway. It burns. I cough, gagging, but the warmth is welcome. I feel queasy at the taste. There’s a long beat as he lights another watching me before he looks back to the edge of the bridge.

“You know lemmings?” I frown.

“Never owned one, if that’s what you mean?”

He snorts, spitting onto the pavement. “Owned one… had friend who owned a gopher once, pain in the ass thing shrieking all damn day. But, no. No I’m talking about Lemmings now, dummy. They get a bad rep for jumpin’ right off cliffs, right?”

I nod. “All horseshit,” he says. “Some fella at Disney, doin’ a documentary, chased em off a cliff for the camera. Stupidest damn thing I ever heard.” He chuckles, shaking his head.

I don’t laugh. “You think your girl would want you runnin’ off a cliff like a dang lemming?” His tone sharpens. “Death don’t equal life, death is death. Thinking otherwise, well… It’s unnatural, son.”

Unnatural. I scoff.

“If you give a hoot about her –and I bet she gives a hoot about you –you best get your ass to her. Stop with this pansy-ass ‘woe is me’ bullshit.” He exhales smoke through his nose. “Life’s hard. You lose people. But the world don’t stop turnin’ just cause you can’t see past the hurt.”

I say nothing.

Airbrakes.

A tow truck rounds the bend, our tour bus hooked behind it. The driver slows when he sees me, and the truck rumbles to a stop.

The man nods toward it. “That your crew?”

I sniff, dragging my sleeve across my face. “Yeah.”

“Well,” he clasps a hand on my shoulder, squeezing once. “Then get movin’. You got a girl to see.”

I hesitate. “Thanks.”

His smile is tired, lined with something I can’t quite place. “Be a damn shame to let a young ‘un like you go the way of the dodo over a case of the ‘Why Me’s’.” With that, he climbs into his car, honking twice as he drives off. I watch him go, breath unsteady.

---