Health walks into the room and spots me in a second. He orders a scotch on the rocks and motions me over toward the bar. I pretend not to see him. I am having a deep conversation with Death, and it must not be disturbed. Death is telling me about her experience with Life, and how they like to share a good **** every once in a while. “You should call him up, he loves a cruel tease.” She says, holding her red wine with a wink. I think about her suggestion and ask for Life’s number. She looks around in her purse, pulls out a small crumpled piece of paper, hands it to me and says, “If he doesn’t pick up the first time, don’t leave a message. Wait for him to call you.” I nod, fold it, and put it in my pocket.
I walk over to the bar where Health is sitting and order a tall Diet Coke with ice, indifferent to his presence.
“So, haven’t seen you around here much lately.” He says nonchalantly.
“I’ve been busy. Among other things.” I reply cooly.
“What kind of things?”
“I dunno. I’ve just been preoccupied.”
“With what?” He persists.
“I dunno… Sadness. Disappointment. Uncertainty.” I say.
“Ahh… Those are tough preoccupations. I met with Sadness the other day, she couldn’t stop crying when we were having lunch. She diluted her soup! And Disappointment, well, I haven’t seen him in ages. He sends me a Christmas card once every couple years or so. As for Uncertainty, well she lives in my basement. She makes me cookies instead of paying rent. She can never hold down a job for more than a few hours really. But she sings beautifully in the shower!” He smiles.
“Have you ****** Life?” I ask.
Health bursts out in bouts of uncontrolled electric laughter.
“Have we ****** Honey, we have four children! Hope, Recovery, Freedom and Passion.”
“But she’s cheated on you with Death.” I say.
“How do you know?” He asks.
“Death told me.”
“You know better than to believe what Death tells you, don’t you?”
I look down at my fingernails. Jagged, short blue stubs.
“I dunno…”
“Have you met my children?” He asks.
“Briefly, at a party once.” I reply.
Health closes his eyes and takes a long, deep breath. He whispers something I don’t quite understand, something in a different language. The bar is now packed with people, and the music is blaring. The song “Language is a Virus” by Laurie Anderson is playing in the background. The atmosphere is chaotic yet Health maintains a peaceful composure.
Health slowly opens his eyes and says to me,
“It was lovely chatting with you. I hope to see you around somewhere again soon.”
He puts on his leather jacket and helmet, and walks out of the bar.
I remain seated, watching the chaos, with my hand in my pocket, feeling the folded piece of paper that Death had given to me mere moments ago. I just sat there, with Laurie’s lyrics looming about my head:
“Paradise is exactly like where you are right now. Only much, much better.”