Sarah’s roommates had been encouraging her to see the doctor. They wanted her to have a checkup to see where things were. “We’ve already had one roommate drink themselves to death and we don’t want to have another.”
Sarah spoke of them very kindly. “They weren’t preachy. They weren’t pushy. They took me aside for a talk and explained things. Your life doesn’t change in huge blocks overnight. Change comes by small degrees and tiny actions. And the first thing I needed to do was to have a checkup at the doctor. To see where things are. To know where we’re starting.”
A few weeks later I got the text from her.
“Well, it looks like I need to begin my farewell tour. I should make plans to visit Denise.”
I was at the bar, but I told her I’d be there right away.
She was at Humble Bar. A short ways away. And I came in very aggressive. “What do you mean ‘farewell tour’. What did the tests say?”
“My liver levels were off.”
“What do you mean your liver levels were off? How off? How serious is it?”
“They’re just off. That’s all.”
“I’m your best friend. You have to tell me. What do you mean they’re off?”
“They’re just off. That’s it.” She took a sip from her shot of Jameson’s and collected herself for a second. “Look,” she said. “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I promise you. The liver levels are off. I have a follow up to work on putting a plan in place to address this. I don’t want to die. Trust me. I just got back from the doctor. If my life was in danger I would be in a hospital. They don’t let dying people walk out the door. It’s going to be fine. Trust me.”
And with that she smoothed me over. Like a professional. Nobody lies like a drunk. Their lives are built on the structure of their lies. Nobody can hide it better. Nobody can smooth it out like they can. At a point it becomes a way of life.
We had a beer. We talked about other things. And after I’d calmed down she said she had someplace else she had to be. She hugged me goodbye and promised one last time, “I don’t want to die.” And then she left.