“There’s not much to tell,” I said. “She mostly rested up while I worked at the hot shop or A-1. I went to dinner with the family on Sunday and she hung alone with a pizza.”
“You canceled with us, though, to stay in with her,” Oscar said. He smiled knowingly over his beer. “And Theo said she’s hot.”
“He did?” I took a sip of beer. “That’s…interesting.”
“He did.” Oscar leaned back in his chair. “So you had a beautiful rock star in your apartment for four days. Please tell me you did not let a situation like that end with a hug or a handshake.”
Dena swatted Oscar’s arm. “Will you see her again?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. She wants to get out of her band contract but it’s not easy to do. If it’s even something she wants to do…”
“Would you like to see her again?”
With everything I am…
“I don’t have much say in it. She’s going to be on tour for months.”
“There are magical devices called phones.” Dena rested the heel of her hand on her chin, eyebrows raised. “You can call her, can you not? Text? Skype?”
“She needs space to figure out what she wants without interference from me,” I said. Oscar started to reply but I cut him off. “Look, I don’t know what’s going to happen next, okay? What I do know is I have a lot of work to do before the gallery opening. So it’s better to not have distractions.”
A short, tense silence fell, followed by the guilt that always assailed me on the rare instances I snapped at anyone. I started to apologize for being shitty company, but Oscar and Dena weren’t my best friends for nothing. Their concern for me was palpable in that noisy, ostentatious bar. Oscar leaned toward me, his expression serious for a change, while Dena slipped her hand across the table into mine.
“Tell us.”
I set my beer glass down, turned it round and round on the purple table. “She had to go,” I said quietly. “They’d ruin her if she broke her contract. She needs to decide what’s best for her, and I couldn’t ask her to stay anyway.”
“Why not?”
I gave them a look. “You know why not. You know why I don’t get involved. I have nothing to offer her but friendship and even that has an expiration date.” I scrubbed my hands through my hair. “It was stupid. The whole thing. Reckless and stupid.”
“What about what you want, Jonah?” Dena asked. “What do you want?”
I looked at my friends who’d been in love with each other for as long as I’d known them. Dena’s search for deeper meanings was the perfect counter-balance to Oscar, who skimmed along life’s surface like a jet-ski. She grounded him, he made her laugh. My gaze strayed to their locked hands, his dark skin against her pale, fingers entwined. I remembered Kacey’s hand in mine at the diner.
It wasn’t enough. I want more…
But I couldn’t have more.
I mustered a smile. “I want to finish my installation, and I want another eight-dollar, nonalcoholic beer.”
Oscar burst out laughing and seemed content to let the matter drop. Dena’s smile fell soft on me the rest of the evening, and I knew she wouldn’t let me off so easily.
Being the perpetual designated driver, I dropped off Oscar and Dena at their house, Southwest of the strip.
“Don’t forget,” Oscar said, clasping my hand and pulling me in for a half-hug before he climbed out. “Great Basin camping trip in three weeks. Make sure you take the time off from work.”
“Already been scheduled,” I said.
The cheer in my voice was forced: I worried about the loss of work in the hot shop and the loss of tip money from my job, but Oscar and Dena had planned this trip for months. They wanted the time with me and I couldn’t say no. They were my oldest friends, the only friends I couldn’t push away when my last biopsy results were made known. They were ingrained in the fabric of my life, no matter how long a life it turned out to be.
Dena came around to the driver side, wearing the maternal look that meant I had a lecture coming, usually prefaced with a quote from her favorite poet, Rumi.
“That which is false troubles the heart, but truth brings joyous tranquility,” she said.
“And what does that mean, love?”
“It means you miss this girl. Don’t pretend you don’t. You’ll feel better for being true to your feelings.” She rested her hands on the open window. “I don’t like to talk about your schedule, you know that.”
I nodded. ‘My schedule’ had become a euphemism for the time I had left. The ‘gallery opening’ was the finish line I needed to cross.
“And I know you want to leave a beautiful piece of art in your wake. Your focus is solely on the destination, not the journey.” Dena placed her palm on my cheek. “Shouldn’t you also try to do the most important thing along the way?”
I covered her hand with mine. “What’s that?”
“Be happy.”
Salt Lake City