Neil San Francisco — 1985 The Ferryman

Another night at Bert’s. Neil, Pamela and Thanatos sit at the counter. Neil feels Jackson’s absence like hunger. In a corner, Jackson’s partner is sleeping with someone new. In front of the new policeman, a donut drips white frosting topped with colorful round sugar bits. It makes Neil slightly nauseous. Maybe that’s why Pamela never eats, he thinks. If I had to look at that stuff every night, all night, I might just stick to juice, too.

Neil wants to be alone with Pam. He wants to tell her of Lisa and of his descent into the morgue. He wants her to comfort him, and yet he is afraid. Apprehensive that she might not believe him. Fearful that telling her will make it all true. Words spoken aloud, thoughts shared gain weight and reality. Neil is not sure he is ready for that. He half hopes he is deluded. Perhaps it would be better rather than finding out that the world conceals white fangs and corpses smelling of sweet gardenias.