Bucket List

Hank wasn't really sure if he was remembering or watching.  He saw Phil leave in a hurry and he could feel himself laughing.  He could hear Nancy laughing.  That was another feeling entirely. It was akin to that Flow Theory he'd read about so many years ago.  That feeling of total fulfillment.

He became more aware that he wasn't really seeing these things.  He was now back in the present day.  He was remembering them.  Or maybe he was dreaming them.  Now he wasn't sure of that.

He opened his eyes and saw Janet sitting on her bed.  She had an old sweatshirt stained with water drops from her wet hair.  She was looking at him curiously.

"Sleep well?" she asked.

Hank wasn't really fully lucid and replied that he had, although he felt far from refreshed.

It was coming back to him now.  Sarah showing up at his door, looking like death.  She'd been searching for her mom all night, and finally found her in a crack house.  Her and Billy had to do some pretty deft negotiations with the patrons as well as some stern talk with their mom to get her home.  They got Janet home finally and Sarah had called on Hank for help.

Janet looked awful, sitting on her bed, her sunken eyes evidence of a night of hell.  She'd screamed, yelled, and kicked at Hank well into the night, determined she'd leave again for the crack house.   Hank restrained her the best he could without hurting her, although he wasn't entirely sure she'd been spared bruises.  She'd finally passed out, and Hank had apparently fell asleep on his watch, in the chair, next to the bed.

"Are you OK?" asked Hank.

"I'm done puking, I think.  I took a shower, but I need to go to sleep.  I'm so sorry, Hank.  Where are Billy and Sarah?"

"They went home a few hours ago.  I thought they needed to be away from here while you withdrew.  I had no idea, Janet.  Sarah told me about it all."

"I'm not real proud of it.  I thought it was behind me."

"I can understand you just wanting to feel better.  First Frank, then the baby."

"Hank, you don't understand.  I didn't want to feel better.  I didn't want to feel anything at all.  I didn't want to feel anything.......forever."

Hank absorbed the implication.

Janet seemed to be processing it herself.

"Do you still feel like....umm....not wanting to feel?  Forever, I mean."  Hank was pissed at his awkwardness.

"I don't know what I feel like.  I feel like I've been hit by a bus."

Hank moved to the bed and sat next to her.  He reached to her lap and retrieved her hand.  He held it.

"Janet.  If you could have anything, what would it be?", he asked.

"I just want to be OK."

"That's one for the bucket list...."  Hank said, levity unintended.

The enormous truth was, neither knew how to get there. Or even what it meant.....

The closest he'd felt to OK, was when Nancy was laughing.  That was so long ago.....