The Brink of Destruction

"When's the last time we took a road trip?" Tre asked, balancing a half-full White Stripe on the tip of one finger. "We need to show these girls how it's done, old school!"

The Hideaway Bar was just that, hidden away in the basement of the dining hall building. There was a back entrance that faced the student union walkway, and, in accordance with university policy, it was--precisely--the required fifty feet from the Chapel, no more, no less. Two pool tables, grafittied black paint, neon beer signs, a couple of ancient Bally pinball machines, and decades of cigarette smoke made it as perfect a dive as even the toughest biker could have asked for.

"Your turn, Gen," Mike nodded. "You and Wynn are stripes, I believe? That would be the ones outnumbering the solids?"

I chalked up and eyed the table, looking for a shot. "Fun-ny! You guys didn't leave shit for me, did you?" I sucked at bounce shots, but it was all I had. Of course I scratched.

"It's too cold for the beach," Tre complained. "What about the mountains?"

"Dammit!" I cried. "That's twice in a row! I must be losing my touch."

"You need another beer!" Tre announced, twisting the top off with a hiss of foam. "Take a slash of this--it'll wake you up!"

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "Think that'll do it, eh Sport?"

"If it doesn't, at least you won't care!" he teased.

The dark cloud that had hung over us was beginning to lift at last. It had been four days since Bat's funeral, and despite our grief, we'd all had our hands full with school, jobs and general life stuff all week. We'd been through hell, and it was good to get together just to enjoy each other's company and unwind. Tre had brought along his new girlfriend, Criss, and we'd all fallen in love with her sweet smile and sense of humor. She was perfect for him, kind and funny, and with her there, it felt like our little family was complete.

Even Billie seemed to be making his way back to us. There had been a few rough spots, that was certain, and there would be more to come. But he was functioning, and hadn't cut himself off from us as I had feared he might.

Now he was lining up for the six, and if he made it, they only had one shot before clearing their numbers. His elbow flexed as he tested the angle, then he stopped, looking at me.

"Kiss for luck?" he asked.

"And help you beat us? I don't think so!" I laughed.

"Aw, come on. I'll make you proud!" His face softened into a puppy's, all big, begging eyes and pouting lip.

I leaned across the corner of the table and pecked him on the cheek. "Well, I'd have preferred something a little more inspiring, but if that's all you can give me..." he sighed. His arm pistoned forward and the cue glanced off the six, sending it spinning right into the corner pocket, then bounced off the bumper and smacked the two squarely into the side pocket. Mike leaped into the air, hooting and pumping his fist.

Billie straightened up, a satisfied grin on his face. "Let's see, what is it I'm supposed to do next? I can't seem to remember...something about the eight ball?"

"Just call the shot, dickweed," Wynn muttered. "I'm glad we didn't put any money on this. You guys must have a lot of time to practice, is all I can say!"

"Okay, madam, your wish is my command. Eight ball, left corner." So clean, it never even hit the rim of the pocket.

I racked my cue stick and plopped down on the wooden stool. "Wynn, we've got to find something we can beat them at," I said glumly.

"I know, how about Trivial Pursuit?" she said.

"Whoa, I don't do games that make me think!" Tre protested. "It interferes with my buzz! And besides, we still haven't decided where we're going!"

"What are you talking about, Bozo?" Billie asked, wiping foam from his lip.

"Doesn't anybody ever listen to me?" Tre whined.

"Of course not, dumbass! We just keep you along for comic relief!" Mike laughed.

Tre pursed his lips and exhaled through his nose, clearly irritated. "I'm TALKING about a ROAD trip! We haven't done that since school started, and I think it's TIME!" His eyes bulged dramatically every time he emphasized a word.

"Pfffftt!" spat Billie. "Who's got time for that? Some of us have to work! Some of us don't have a room in our parents' house rent free! Some of us--"

"Oh hush, jealous," Tre said, rolling his eyes. "Yes, I know, you and Mike are the hardest working men in the music business, and you're both twice the man I am. But I STILL want to go on a road trip!"

Criss reached around from behind him and put her hands over his mouth. "How about if I get you a Snickers," she purred, winking at us. "You know you can't resist chocolate."

He looked up at her, clearly tempted. "Okay, but I'm not going to forget about this just bec-mmpfff--" She kissed him before he could annoy us any further.

"Um, Criss," Mike mumbled, "you do know that giving him sugar is like pouring gasoline on a fire, right?"

Slowly her lips curled into an evil grin. "I think I can handle him," she said smoothly. "He doesn't know how...persuasive I can be yet!"

I could tell she was going to fit right in.

By the time we were ready to call it a night, it was nearly 2 am, and we'd all had a few too many. Luckily we'd all decided to walk so we didn't have to worry about driving. Criss lived just off campus, so she and Tre said their goodbyes and headed off across the union parking lot. Wynn and Mike, giggling over some private joke, were making their way toward Canterbury, and I was following along behind them, more or less on automatic pilot.

"Hey, Mike, Gen and I are gonna take a walk, okay?" Billie called from behind me, slurring his words a little. He hooked his arm through mine, leading me away from West Quad toward the chapel.

"Sure, knock yourselves out," Mike said over his shoulder. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Hoisting a "thumbs up," they meandered on their way, all but oblivious to us.

I looked across the deserted quad. Nothing was moving, and almost no one was out. "It's kind of cold for a walk, don't you think?"

He paused, thinking about it with effort. "Well, not really, no," he said at last. His lids were half-closed, and his body was swaying as if he were on the deck of a ship. "What about you, are you cold?"

To be honest, I knew in my head the night was chilly, but I really didn't feel it either. "No, I guess not," I answered. "So where did you want to go?"

"C'mon," he said, taking my hand and crossing to the other side of the chapel. As we walked through the small woods behind it, the safety lights spilled puddles of orange light onto the gravel path, and I could hear a barn owl somewhere in the trees above us. The sounds of the buildings over on Science Drive--the enormous air conditioners and compressors and steam boilers--were chugging away like mighty hearts, unmuffled by the sounds of cars that usually drowned them out during the day. It seemed the whole world was asleep except us.

"Do you ever think about dying?" he asked suddenly, breaking the silence. "Not in a hypothetical way, but like your own death." His head was down, and he seemed to be mired in thoughts that he couldn't put into words.

My mind was far too soggy to negotiate the kind of curve he'd just thrown me, especially when we'd just been laughing and shooting pool not fifteen minutes before. Being with him was like looking into the ocean, seeing a calm, glassy surface when the rip tide was waiting just underneath to drag you out to sea forever. And tonight I was in no shape to swim.

"That's a bit of a downer," I said, hoping he was leading into some joke or wisecrack. "Not exactly party conversation, I mean."

He stopped walking, hands jammed into his pockets, and his green eyes lifted to mine, burning with bleary intensity. He said nothing, just stared patiently at me, waiting for an answer.

"You're serious, aren't you?" I asked him, still struggling to keep up with the sudden change in his mood.

"Yeah," he said softly. "Dead serious."

Where had this come from, I wondered? He'd seemed to be having fun back at the bar, more like his old rascally self, as long as everyone was around. But now that we were alone, the mask had fallen away, and beneath it, the wounds hadn't healed at all; in fact, they were still bleeding.

"You're freezing," he said, as if he'd just noticed that I was shivering. "I know where we can go." He took my hand again, and though there wasn't a car in sight, we hurried across the street to the Bio Sci building. Ducking around the side, we came to a little circle of chairs outside a staff exit door, that surrounded a cement planter full of cigarette butts. Less than enchanting--until I sank into one of the chairs and felt the warm air from the ventilation system surrounding me.

"Oh, God that feels good!" I sighed. My nose and hands were tingling as the skin began to thaw, but it was bliss to feel the heat swirling around us.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, so earnest he almost seemed sober. "How do you think you're going to die?"

My stomach sank. He just wasn't going to let it go. "Jesus, Billie, I don't know. I'm trying so hard to handle living I haven't really thought about it. Why do you want to know?"

"Because I'm pissed off, that's why." The words were thick, sticky in his mouth. "I'm pissed off that people die without getting a fair chance to finish their lives. I'm mad as hell that my dad and Bat are gone, and I'll never see them again. Someday maybe I'll have kids, and they'll never know the two men I admired most. And I'm fuckin' furious about it." He was gritting his teeth now, the rage that had been simmering inside him all week coming to the surface.

"I haven't lost a parent, or a friend like Bat, but sometimes being at the cancer center makes me feel like that. It's like watching the kids being eaten slowly by some hideous monster."

He nodded. "Yeah, how do you fuckin' do that week after week? Don't you get sick of seeing sickness and death?"

"Sure," I shrugged. "There's no way not to let it get to you. But if I can help make them feel better for a little bit, then maybe for a few minutes they can just forget about it and feel alive again."

"Fuck that! Fuck cancer, and kids hurting and dying! Fuck death, and God and the whole goddamned power trip He's on! I hate that something else calls all the shots! I could be up on stage, playing my heart out, and a fucking drive-by could put a bullet in my brain. Or I could fall getting out of the shower and crack my skull open. One moment of distraction and I could drift across the yellow line while I'm driving and--"

"Billie! God, you're acting like you want it to happen! You're alive right now, and that's the only thing any of us have. Don't waste it ranting about something you have no control over!"

He was on his feet now, eyes blazing as he swayed unsteadily.

"No control? You think I can't choose how to live my own life? I refuse to let some invisible...thing tell me when it's over! It ends when I say it ends!"

He was heading toward the street now, circling around the Physics building and toward the apartment complex that backed up to the campus. To be as trashed as he was, he was moving fast, and I had to run to catch up.

"Where the hell are you going?" I cried. I was feeling a sick knot of panic in the pit of my stomach, and I wished desperately that Mike were here. I hadn't been through years of this with Billie, and had no idea how to handle him when he was so out of reach.

The green Chucks took the ground in long strides, and as we passed the pool, covered now for the winter, I could hear him muttering to himself unintelligibly. At the other end of the complex, where the parking lot opened out onto LaSalle street, was a graveled path that ran along the railroad track.

He turned and started down the track, walking gingerly on the wooden crossties. Exhausted, I stopped, crossing my arms.

"Billie!" I shouted.

He stopped and turned to me, his face barely visible in the dim glow of the street lights. Lifting his wrist, he checked his watch and then stared down the track as if he could see something I couldn't.

"It's really late, Billie," I said lamely. It was all I could think of. "We're not far from your house. Why don't we go back and get some sleep? We can talk about it some more in the morning." Even I could hear the touch of desperation in my voice. He'd never buy such a weak argument.

"It's my life, Gen. Mine." The finality of it left no possibility of compromise. "And I'm not letting some heartless bastard decide how, or when, or where the time runs out. That's up to me."
It wasn't the chill in the air that made my blood feel like ice.