Page 14 of Angels Fall

I take my hand with its now-bloody fingertip from where I’ve been chewing and place it on my jackhammering knee to make it stop jouncing.

“Nope. I’m gooood,” I say, super smooth and convincing.

“Are you still feeling suicidal?”

“What?” I’m honestly shocked by this. “I’ve never felt suicidal. What makes you think I feel suicidal?”

“You told me that you set your home on fire so that everyone on the Strip could watch you burn, you told me that you pressed your head into the barrel of a gun in a back alley and told the gunman to shoot you, and you told me that you’ve been having a recurring dream that you’re dead and that it gives you pleasure. So. Y’know. I’m just spitballing.”

She’s so cool. She’s like the coolest sixty-year-old lady I’ve ever met. But I still need to get this fucking “talk session” over with so I can make moves.

“Okay, first of all,” I start, “the fire thing… like I told you, that was a thought I had, yes, but I didn’t think I was gonna DO it. I don’t even remember starting it. I looked down and it was just going. I might have blacked out or something.”

“Oh. Okay. Well then, no problem.” She says it with a smile.

“That didn’t come out… Look.” I try again. “Yes, I can’t deny that things have been a little, uh, out of balance with me. I admit that. But I’m fine. I really am. I think I’ve just been feeling a little purposeless, but that’s all changed.”

“What exactly has changed?”

“I told you. The woman that I’ve fallen in love with is Scotty’s little sister. It’s Maddie. That’s… I mean, what are the odds? And it’s incredible because we need each other. We’re what the other needs to get whole. I don’t know if that makes sense, but I know I’m right.”

I’m smiling. She’s not. Which bums me out.

“I’m not certain that needing another person to make you whole is the sentiment that gives me the greatest sense of assurance,” she says.

“I know, I know. We have to find our whatever within ourselves and blah, blah, blah. I get it. But that’s not… Look, all I know is that we have come into each other’s lives for a reason.”

“Yeah?” she says. “What reason is that?”

“Well… I mean…” I start. But I realize I haven’t yet developed a completely cogent rationale for why Maddie and I have tumbled back into each other’s lives in such a fucked-up and dramatic way. But then, in a flash, it comes to me.

“Okay! Okay! So… haven’t you been telling me, as much as anyone, maybe more than anyone, that there are unresolved wounds I need to heal!?”

“Well, I—” she begins, but I’m on a roll, so I keep going.

“Okay! So then, don’t you think that making things right with Maddie goes a long way toward healing some of those wounds? For me AND now for HER?” Bam! Drop the mic! Fuck with that logic, Doc! I’m clever as balls when I need to be. Everybody says so.

She’s quiet for a second. The waterfall that cascades into Robert and Evan’s pool is the only sound in the desert right now. I’ll be honest. I don’t hate staying here. It’s a sick fucking house. It’s actually got me thinking I should buy one like this instead of moving back into the apartment. Might be good to get away from the chaos of the Strip. Quiet in the desert. Too quiet? Would my mind wander? Nah. If I lived in the desert and stuff, I’d probably be inspired to take up meditation and shit. It’d actually probably be the best thing for me. Yeah! This is a great idea! I’m gonna buy a house in the desert! I’ll bet Robert can find me a sweet deal. Dude’s probably the most powerful land baron in Vegas. Evan totally married the right guy. And—

“Well…”

Oh, shit. That’s right. I’m still sitting here with Dr. Eldridge. All good. I bet I’ll be super focused after I start meditating.

“I think,” she continues, “that… yeah. Finding some way to connect and repair with Maddie Clayton would probably be a very good thing as far as helping you both heal goes.”

Oh, snap! I was right!

“I would only caution you to remember that it’s a two-way street.”

“I know.”

“I mean, she has to be ready to let you in.”

She was sure as fuck ready to let me in the other night, I joke in my head. Not out loud. Because, you know… inappropriate.

“I know,” is the version of the answer I offer aloud.

“Okay,” she says, “well, good. And I’m glad to see you seeming physically well.”