Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 65376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
“The church picked up so many members that year. I think like 7,000. Luke spent so much time on every sermon. Sometimes he’d spend weeks on one. I was new to San Francisco. Lonely and clueless. I don’t think from anybody’s effort per se, but we became good friends. Sort of like a brother-sister quality.”
Vance’s eyes move from my face back to the floor, and I blow out a quiet breath.
“Luke’s one of my best friends.” I wipe my eyes, thinking about how I wasn’t here for him this last week. “In 2016,” I press onward, “he was different. But I didn’t get it. Didn’t notice,” I say. “I thought he was just busy. He was busy. In 2017, I realized we didn’t talk as much as we used to. But he was really busy.” I wipe my eyes as some tears spill out. “I was busy, too. I met my husband that year. Arman. I got kind of wrapped up in all that good stuff.”
Vance nods.
“So anyway, I didn’t really notice in a real way until winter. Of 2017.” Tears flow down my cheeks as I try not to lose it in the hall. “So…Luke started missing work sometimes. I was the only one who noticed on a lot of the days. Because it’s me that keeps his schedule. Or did mostly then.” I wipe my face. “So anyway. He said all this stuff to me. Excuses. And then in early ’18…he was home for like…three days. And I kept calling. He would put me off. I went by with some soup.” More tears fall. I wipe them. Vance’s eyes are rapt now, his face sympathetic.
“He was on the floor beside the fireplace. The fire had gone out, and…he wasn’t wearing a shirt. I thought he was hurt. Like he had fallen. He got up fast once he realized I was there. But he was really…off. He assured me he was okay, just sick. But the next night, he called,” I whisper, “having a panic attack. I was nearby, so I just came over. I got him a glass of wine and that helped. But he wouldn’t talk to me.” I swallow again, steadying my voice. “Ever since then, Vance, he just…misses sometimes. I go over and he acts okay, and he comes back to work the next day.” I let out a long breath that I didn’t even realize I was holding. I’ve worried so much for poor PL the last year. It’s too hard to explain to Vance in this one conversation.
“When you came, though…he’s been different.” My throat aches, so I can’t speak above a whisper. “I see him smiling. His face— I didn’t even know, but he just always looked so tense and tired. He looks relaxed since you got here.”
Vance looks anything but. Now he’s standing up a little straighter. His jaw’s locked, his nostrils flaring. “Vance. I love Luke. I’d keep any secret of his…” Vance’s face takes on a look of panic. I can’t help it—I’m a hugger. He seems like a hugger, too—so I step in and wrap my arms around him. “I’m not asking. Okay?”
I hug him a little tighter. He locks onto me. For forever, he just hugs me really tight, with his chin on the top of my head. When he pulls away, his eyes are teary.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
He nods once. I can tell he doesn’t want to do this. Doesn’t want to talk about it with me.
I nod, too. I don’t know what to say or how to bridge the chasm between us. I don’t really know Vance well, although I wish I did.
“Thank you,” he says, soft and formal. He gives me a polite smile.
“Thank you for being so good to PL.”
28
Vance
The next hour is like something out of a bad movie. Pearl says hi to Luke again, but bows out tactfully when his eyes lock onto me like he’s trying to communicate via ESP. After she’s gone, it’s just us in the room. Luke looks at me for a long time—just this neutral, sort of chilled, calm look I can’t interpret.
He holds his hand out for mine, and when I take it, his eyes shut. He breathes in deeply…exhales slowly. His hand grips mine—just a little—and he raises his free hand to his nose, where the oxygen tubing still sits.
“Vance Rayne.” He says my name like he’s trying it on for size. “I feel sort of…floaty. Like I’m halfway high.” His eyes open. They do look kind of high. He’s still getting midazolam in an IV bag. But he looks more lucid than he has since we got here. “Every time I wake up…when I see you…” His voice cracks. He drags another breath in and closes his eyes. “That’s the good part.”
My chest feels so fucking heavy.