Night shifts black

I lean against Casey, and Luke faces us from the other side of the couch. We’re all quiet for a while, enjoying the silence after the chaos of the bar, or club, or whatever 49^th & Finch considers itself.

“I told her some things,” Luke confesses, breaking the long silence.

I can feel Casey stiffen, and glance up at his face. He doesn’t seem angry, just concerned.

“Yeah?”

Luke nods. “About how we got started, about that time with your father and Molly. Just thought you should know.”

Casey doesn’t respond at first. “Fun story,” he mumbles finally.

I take his hand and lace my fingers with his. “I want to know all the stories,” I say. “Fun or not.”

“I don’t talk to him anymore,” Casey replies, and I’m not sure he even heard my response. He’s back there again. I can see it in his eyes when I look up at him. “I’m the only one who doesn’t, but he always hated me more than the others. I wasn’t as afraid of him as he wanted.”

Luke nods, and I can see the understanding all over his face. The friendship, the history, the co

“He hates that he was wrong about you, Case. He hates your success. I saw him when I went home a few weeks ago. He’s a bitter, miserable man,” Luke says.

“You went home?” Casey asks, surprised. “Why? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Luke flinches, and we can tell this wasn’t supposed to be part of the story. I remember his trip. Clearly. I’d been so worried about him when he suddenly disappeared for a week without a word.

The way his eyes are shifting now, I know it’s bad. What I don’t know is if he’s finally ready to share it with us. I don’t think we were supposed to know any of this. I doubt anyone was, which is all the more reason why it has to come out.

He draws in a deep breath and concentrates on the floor.

“I was… putting things in order. Preparing for…” Luke stops just as my heart does.

I stare at him in horror, unable to speak. I don’t know what to do with that sentence. It’s too heavy, too important, too awful, too expected, too full, to process. I can’t see Casey’s face but I can feel his sudden tension behind me and know he’s having a similar reaction.

Luke’s eyes venture toward us again, searching, clouded this time. “A month ago I was ready. I was done. That’s why I started visiting Jemma’s. The chair. To say goodbye with one final punishment for what I was. What I’d done. To force myself to confront my failure. A month ago was supposed to be the end.”

I jump up from my seat and rush toward him. I don’t care. No. It’s too real now. Too close. I throw my arms around him and feel his tighten around me in return. We both are thinking the same thing, filled with the same sickening questions. What if I hadn’t butted in? What if I’d ignored his crazy behavior like everyone else? What if I’d done the right thing and been polite? My inexplicable rudeness saved his life. Started mine.

I hold on. I know Casey understands what’s happening. That he’s not jealous, and he waits in silence as Luke and I put each other back together. Luke finally pulls away and swats at his eyes, a haunted look on his face. I know something’s happening in his head and sit back to let it breathe.

He closes his eyes and starts speaking so softly, we can barely hear him at first.

“It’s a perfect day for candlelight, let it cast its shadow.

It’s a perfect day for apathy.

It’s a perfect day for tragedy, eclipsed by a moment in time.

It’s a perfect day, why not today?

It’s a perfect day, don’t wait up for a tearful goodbye.

It’s a perfect day for illusion.

It’s a perfect day for solace, I’ll make this easy on you.

Don’t you worry, it’s a perfect day, why not today?

Can you hear me, screaming some lie, disguising the truth

Can you see me, bleeding, I’m unraveling

Shattering

Do you remember what you told me, ‘Everything has its place and time?’

Well, that’s fine, you can look away, you’re just proving it’s the perfect day.”

He stops, and I’m certain none of us is breathing. We can’t risk changing the silence, the significance of the moment. We just absorb it, Luke’s devastating words echoing around us, reminding us how close we can be to pain without feeling it.

I manage to inch back to Casey and lean against him. As soon as we touch, his arms encircle me and pull me close with an urgency that breaks my heart. I can feel him bury his face in my hair, and I clasp his hands to my chest, gripping hard. I can’t tell if he’s crying, but I know he’s a mess, too. We all are. But for the first time our disaster is out in the open for us to pick through together. I also know it’s finally time.

“What’s The Chair, Luke? What’s its power?” I ask gently, somehow sensing he needs to tell us.

He nods in response, almost as if he’d been expecting the question. I can feel Casey’s attention shift back to Luke as well, and we are both holding our breath, bracing for the ghost.

“Things were really bad with Elena,” Luke begins, quietly. “They had been for a long time, but…I loved her… God, I loved her so much...I just couldn’t stop hurting her!” Luke’s voice is suddenly violent, “saturated with the self-hatred” Casey had described that one night. The tears come again, to all of us this time, but there’s nothing we can do but watch. Luke has to finish shattering.

 “We’d talked that day,” he continues after a long, painful pause. He wipes his cheeks with a rough hand. “She couldn’t take it anymore, the way things were. She wanted to try to work things out. I agreed to meet her that night at a little café called Jemma’s. One last shot to fix things.”

A sob escapes him and he presses his fists to his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. Finally, he looks up again, his eyes so full, so haunted, I’m completely paralyzed.

“I didn’t show…” he whispers in horror. “No, worse than that. I ended up in a hotel room getting wasted with two girls I didn’t even know. I just…I just left her there! Fucking abandoned her!”

His hands are shaking as he suddenly pulls out his phone. He scrolls through it with a delicate violence and stops suddenly, his eyes filling again. After a brief pause, he closes them and passes the phone to us, almost dropping it from the trembling. I glance at the screen and gasp, my pulse pounding.

It’s a photo from Elena. Just a simple picture. I

I choke at the caption below it:

“Guess I’m talking to a ghost tonight? Fuck you, Luke. I hate you.”

“I left her there to die,” he whispers, tears streaming down his cheeks. “She killed herself shortly after she gave up and left.” His eyes turn hostile as he shakes his head. “No, sorry, wait. No! I killed her that night,” he hisses. “I was supposed to be there! I should have been in that chair! But I’m not, am I! I’m not there!” he cries, furious. “If I had, if I’d just…”

He breaks down completely, and this time it’s Casey who closes the gap. He embraces Luke, and my heart explodes in my chest at the sight.

“I need you to forgive me,” Luke sobs. “Forgive me for killing her. Please!” he pleads, his eyes wild, desperate, and Casey nods, tears drowning his own.

“I do,” he whispers. “You know I do. Just come back to us, ok?”