Funeral For a Friend (Blogophilia 14.20 and WWG 35)

"It would be that we are all OK..."

The line came out of the blue as Jack looked out into the snow flecked night.  The inside of the taxi smelled of curry. In the old days when he drove, it was sauerkraut or beer. That was a long time ago. Had he been a coward for leaving so long ago? No. Was it unkind? No. It would have been worse to be the aider and abetter. The end was predetermined when she dropped out of school, starting the ripples that have now made it to shore. Jack's therapist referred to it as a Butterfly Effect. He wasn't sure. 

 So many bridges burned. Some things haven't changed. Midway is still a dirty dump in the middle of the slums. He got hit up four times by bums before he even made it to the taxi stand. The human wreckage of fate and bad decisions.

Who is he kidding? Everyone makes bad decisions. It was why took the last plane out of Phoenix. 

What was the verse?    

                                If cocaine were caffeine
                                And pain turned into ash 
                                I'd be both rich and respectable
                                I wouldn't run from the past. 

She would sing it even with her nose dripping blood.

And now she is gone.

He gave them each a buck. No sense in being mean.

Faceless buildings limp by as they headed toward Downers Grove and home. Would there be a Mass? The Nun at the facility wasn't sure how they were doing the service. As the last living relative, she thought it was important for him to be there.

The driver pulls into the motel. Jack settles up, checks in, and calls the Nun. They would meet in the morning.

As he lay down to sleep, a peace came over him.

He had run to his better place. She had risen to hers.