Night shifts black

“If?”

“He’s not good, Callie. Luke’s been like a brother for over ten years, and I’m telling you, he’s not good.”

His words tear at me, grinding at my heart. Maybe it’s because I thought I was making a bigger difference than I am. Maybe my naiveté turned breakfast club into more than it is. Maybe I care about him way more than I should. Whatever the reason, I’m suddenly overwhelmed by the weight of the chair and the hidden monstrosity I can’t begin to fight. How can I help him recover if I don’t even know what’s killing him?

“People are drawn to him. They always have been. It’s hard to stay grounded when you’re adored. It was harder for him than most because I don’t think he’s wired to be adored. He didn’t know how to deal with it, and it all happened so fast for us once it hit.”

I’m watching the shadow of the corridor now, absorbing Casey’s words as best I can, which isn’t very well.

“Is that why he left? He couldn’t handle it anymore?”

Casey doesn’t respond at first, and I know that’s not why. But he’s not going to give away any more of his friend’s secrets. I actually respect him a lot for that.

“You seem like a cool person and it’s obvious you care about him. All I’m saying is don’t fall for him. Please.” Casey is actually pleading with me now.

“Are you worried about me or him?” I ask.

“Both. He can’t be worshipped right now. He needs an anchor not a dreamer.”

His statement hits me hard. I want to be an anchor, but I’m suddenly terrified that I’m not. What if I’m a dreamer?

“I understand,” I reply. I wish I could say more, he’s expecting a promise, but I don’t want to be a liar on top of everything else.

Luke is on his way back now. He doesn’t look nearly as broken as we just made him out to be. In fact, he looks so normal rounding the corner, rubbing his hands on his jeans to clear those last drops of water the paper towel always misses. For a brief moment, I wonder if we’ve misread him.

We quiet as he approaches, but I’m not sure how to pretend we weren’t talking about him when I’m still reeling from the conversation. He seems to sense our tension, despite our weak attempts to hide it with fake smiles. He’s too perceptive to believe fake smiles.

“So did I miss anything good?” he asks. We’re being tested, but I have no idea how to pass.

“Nope. In fact we learned you know a lot more about yourself than we do, apparently.”

I’m rewarded with a slight smile, but I don’t think I did as well as I’d hoped.

“Well, since we’re sharing, I learned the third sink in the men’s room doesn’t work.”

The arrival of our food prevents what was poised to be a very boring, and awkward, conversation. I eye my French toast in anticipation, giving it way more credit than it deserves out of gratitude for saving this encounter.

“I like the powdered sugar. Nice touch,” Casey comments.

I nod. “It’s not too much, but just enough to add a hint of sweetness.”

“Exactly. With the syrup, it would have been too sweet if they used any more.”

“It’s incredible, huh, that powdered sugar. They must have invested a lot of hours perfecting this particular application. Do you think they commissioned a full research study or just went with the classic focus group?” Luke asks, and then I catch the amusement seeping into his expression. He’s mocking us, glancing back and forth between Casey’s forced admiration and my forced enthusiasm.

I can’t help but smile in return.

“You were talking about me, weren’t you,” he reasons. “Of course you were.”

“We care about you,” Casey responds.

“What did he tell you?” Luke asks me.

I can’t tell if he’s defensive, curious, angry, or intending to elaborate.

“C’mon, man. Nothing,” Casey interjects.

I nod. “Seriously, Luke. Nothing. You have a good friend here.”

“Right…”

We all quiet again and pretend our French toast is a fascinating mystery.

“You know, just once it would be nice if people stopped treating me like a mental patient,” Luke spits suddenly.

Casey grunts. “Then maybe you should stop acting like one,” he mutters.

I glance at him, startled, as Luke’s eyes narrow.

“Yeah? Well, I don’t remember asking you to stop in and check up on me. I don’t want you guys dropping in on me because I don’t need a nurse.”

Now, Casey is getting riled. “Check up on you? I’m not checking up on you! You’re my best friend, my brother! And I thought I was yours. Sorry if I’m supposed to be ok with you just disappearing from my life, but I’m not!”

“You know what? This was obviously a mistake.”

“What? Becoming human again for five minutes?” Casey hisses. He leans forward with a fire I can feel across the table. “Look, I get it. You had a rough road. But it’s time to get back up and move on. You think you’re the only one who’s suffering? You think yours was the only life ruined? You know that’s not fair, and if anyone can understand this, it’s me.

“And anyway, what about the other guys, huh? What about your band, your friends? What about our dreams and lives that got all messed up when you walked away and left us with a shell of what we could’ve been? Do you ever think about that? You think we want to be playing nightclubs and opening for singing competition wi

With that, Casey pushes his chair back and storms from the table. I don’t watch his exit because I’m too worried about Luke. He’s staring again, the blank look on his face that tells me he’s far away from this place. I’m not sure if I should say something to try to draw him out of it, or if returning him to the present will only make things worse.

“It’s hard to argue that, isn’t it?” he asks suddenly, surprising me. I glance over, expecting a vacant monologue, but he’s watching me. I’m not sure what the right answer is. I don’t even understand the question.

“What’s hard to argue?”

“That I ruined everything.”

“You mean the band? Their careers?”

“No, I mean everything.”

He pushes back from the table and slaps some bills down on the table. Actually, he slaps a lot of bills on the table.

“That’s what I do, Callie. I ruin things.”

Now, I really don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to counter something I know nothing about.

“Luke…”

“I should go. Good luck.”

I want to stop him as he leaves, suddenly terrified his strange ending was a final goodbye. Of course I need to stop him. It can’t end like this. But I don’t. By the time I know what I need to do, it’s too late.

I bite my lip instead and stare at the table of French toast and assorted cash. I gather the bills into a neat little pile and realize they aren’t all from this country. After pulling out the foreign ones, I signal Darryn who quietly hands over the check and spares me the embarrassment of a comment. I don’t even cry until after I’m safely on the sidewalk.

∞∞∞

I don’t go back the next day. Somehow I know Luke won’t be there, and I don’t want to subject myself to the disappointment. I think about him constantly, however. Picturing his face, his jacket, his expressive eyes. Wishing I was important enough for him to include me in his life instead of me secretly including him in mine.

I debate skipping the following day as well, but decide I’d never forgive myself if I missed him. I’m happy Shauna is on duty when I arrive. She seems to be the most understanding of the staff, but she hasn’t seen him. I wait outside for a few moments, studying the crooked streams of pedestrians for any sign of Luke. Finally, I come to terms with my futile mission and slip Shauna a note with my phone number. She promises to send me a message if she sees Luke.