Night shifts black

Day Six: Part II.

“You know they were ready to call the authorities on you,” I whisper.

“I was a rock star for seven years. You think I haven’t been acquainted with ‘the authorities?’”

“Oh right. Street cred and all. You get that ink in prison?”

He smiles before he leans back and closes his eyes. I don’t know what kind of silence this is, just that he needs it, and commit myself to respecting his retreat for a while. We have returned the chair to its table, and this time I’m pretty confident Ailee will leave it unoccupied during the duration of our visit. Unlike many of her customers, she is probably a Night Shifts Black fan. At the very least, she is a fan of famous, rich people.

I glance around and notice there are more guests than usual. I would have expected the opposite, given Luke’s behavior a few minutes ago, and now, I can’t help but fear word is begi

“You know how sometimes you feel like your life isn’t yours,” he muses out loud. “Like you go through the moment, but it could be happening to anyone, not you?”

I do know that feeling. I nod, but don’t speak.

“That’s been the last year for me. Every second of every day. I could recite any detail you want, but I can’t tell you a single thing that’s actually transformed me or made an impact. It’s like this is all happening to someone else and I’m really in a whole other place right now.”

I’m quiet for a moment. He’s not looking at me, and I know exactly what he means. Not just because I can relate, but also because I’d had the same terrible suspicion about him since our first conversation. He’s here, but he’s always somewhere else, too. The rare magical moments are the ones where I actually have all of him for a brief second.

“Is it the same reason you lost your music?”

He’s staring at the door now, and I wonder if he’s going to answer my question or flee again.

“Yes.”

“Your wife?”

He glances at the ring. I do, too. He touches it. I want to touch it, too, but don’t have the courage.

“I shouldn’t have asked that. I’m sorry.”

When I look at him, I suspect he is also. He’s not a bad person. At least, he isn’t now.

“Nothing personal, right?” he replies with a weak smile.

I return it and nod. “Right.”

It’s quiet again, and I think I’ve lost him. He’s gazing out the window now, past our table, the aisle, the chair. It’s almost like he’s looking for something, maybe someone, but it’s the same haunted expression he has when he gazes at the chair. It has to be the same ghost, and I want to help him find it more than ever.

“I didn’t used to be this way,” he continues, still staring past the present. I’m not sure what he’s referring to, nor am I sure he’s even talking to me. His tone is somewhere between an apologetic confession and personal criticism. I can’t begin to respond, so I wait.

“I used to be the life of the party. Heart on my sleeve. I used to be silly.”

I can’t imagine him being silly. I’m not even sure what he means by that. “We all change. Life changes us.”

“Yeah?”

“I like to believe that anyway.”

“Ok, that’s fair.” He’s being polite again. He doesn’t agree with me.

He’s right of course. We don’t all change. Life doesn’t force it equally. We don’t accept it equally either. I was just trying to throw something out there to reassure him, and now realize how pointless that was. He’s too perceptive to be reassured by statements that don’t mean anything.

“What about you? Has life changed you?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“The insurance settlement?”

I can’t look at him. It wasn’t exactly an insurance settlement. I wonder if he knows that as well somehow. He can’t possibly, but then, I’ve underestimated him since the moment we met.

“Kind of.”

He nods, but doesn’t push for more. He guards his secrets and he’s not a hypocrite.

“So where do we go from here?” he asks.

“We, as in ‘the human race?’ Or we, as in ‘our friendship?’”

He smiles, and I finally have him back. “You must think I’m a lot more introspective than I am.”

“What? You’re offended that I find you interesting?”

This time I get the real smile at my teasing. “Not offended, but concerned you’ll be disappointed by the truth about me at some point.”

“Which truth? That you used to be the life of the party and silly? It’s already out.”

 He shakes his head, the grin still in place. “True.”

“Fortunately for me and my morning breakfasts at Jemma’s, I don’t think you’re as shallow as you think you are.”

“I used to be shallow.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you used to pretend you were shallow.”

“I wasn’t pretending.”

“Then maybe we have different definitions of shallow.”

“Obsessed with celebrity and all that comes with it?”

It’s my turn to smile. “Ok, maybe we do have the same definition of shallow.”

He returns it. “It’s hard not to be shallow when you’re a celebrity and drowning in all that comes with it.”

Another piece falls into place. It’s the way he says it. The way his eyes change. The way the circle just completed itself. Drowning. He didn’t have to use that word. I start to understand what the media and masses could not. He had to walk away from them because he couldn’t be a celebrity anymore. He didn’t want all that came with it. I just need to find out why.

“I should probably go. I have a long day ahead,” Luke says, and I regret letting the conversation die.

“Anything interesting pla

“Nothing that isn’t personal.”

“Sorry.”

But he’s smiling, so he’s not really upset. “Don’t be.” He tosses some bills on the table and pauses. “It’s mostly legal stuff.”

I nod like I understand what that means.

I don’t.