The Goodbye Man

The IC encouraged, offering that smile that everyone on the staff here was so good at — partly embracing, partly distant.

Henry swallowed and said, “It’s kind of hard to cope. Every day is hard. So. That’s what I’m hoping to fix. I’ve tried bereavement groups, therapy, drugs. They’re not working all that great. Maybe this’ll be better. Tomorrow will be better. That’s what they said.”

“Very good, Novice Henry. Now, you, Novice Abby.”

“That’s me. Uhm... This is my second week. You know, same old. You’ve heard it.” She seemed edgy, upset. She played with her food. Hadn’t eaten much.

“Our new Novices haven’t,” Quinn said evenly. “Please enlighten them with your tale, Novice Abby.”

Eyes down, she was digging one fingernail into a cuticle. “Just, stuff, you know.”

“Go ahead. Remember: don’t shy from the Minuses. You can do it. Master Eli says you’ve made good progress.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and she seemed moved that the leader of the Foundation had commented about her.

“Go on.” Quinn nudged.

“Okay, like, I’m in college, studying communications.” She didn’t make eye contact with anyone. “So. The thing is, at home, it’s kind of sucky. I stay away as much as I can. I got in with this crowd. I mean, they’re okay. Sort of okay. But there was some Oxy action, you know. Other shit.” She stopped abruptly.

Quinn pulled a smile, fast as a gunslinger. “It’s all right. Say what you feel.”

“They got me into all kinds of stuff. Like, finally I got clean. It’s not so easy. And I’m pretty freaked that I’ll lapse. You know, go back. I’ve got this friend and her mother came here and it was, like, it helped her. So I kind of sent my application in and I got accepted.” She shrugged, then slouched back in her chair. “And it’s pretty cool. Master Eli is, like, the best.”

“Thank you, Novice Abby. And, Novice Carter?”

Shaw spun his fictional account of hard times, not being able to hold down work, his emotional problems. He channeled Adam Harper and Harvey Edwards, along with some of the tougher fugitives he’d pursued in his reward-seeking business. He skirted the criminal past — largely because he hadn’t written a very detailed script about that portion of Skye’s life.

Shaw stuck with the tale that Carter had a family history of depression. The drugs, the anger issues. He always started out hopeful with a girl, but then — he gave a thumbs-down — he’d hit the road and never see her again. “Trying to outrun the blues, I guess. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t.”

“Good,” Quinn said. “Thank you for that.”

John, the thirty-something, had no professional issues. He was a successful coder and software designer in Los Angeles. He liked his work. He was good at it. Then his voice dropped in volume. “So, a year ago I was on PCH — Pacific Coast Highway — with my buddy. My best friend. I was hotdogging in my Porsche.” His voice caught. “We went off the road, hit a tree. He was killed. I didn’t get a scratch... Not a goddamn scratch. I’m trying to get over Dale. It’s not so easy. My trainer says I can. Master Eli too. He says I’ll be okay. Eventually. I believe them.”

“You should,” Quinn said. “He’ll take care of you. You’ll be all right.”

As Quinn looked them over, Shaw wondered: Could a human being sit up any more upright?

“Very good, everyone,” Quinn said. “You can be confident that the Process will bring you comfort. Would you like some more beverage, Novice Carter?”

He’d noted that Shaw’s iced tea was half empty.

“No. I’m good. Thank you, Journeyman Quinn.”

Conversation at the table resumed — but only momentarily. A silence descended in the room, punctuated by Companions’ whispering. Eyes had turned toward the front of the dining hall. Through the windows, Shaw detected movement along the path leading to the building. It was hard to make out anything specific in the dusk. Lamps on wooden poles lined the paths but the illumination was subdued and yellow. The lanterns added to the nineteenth-century feel.

A whisper: “Is that him? Is he coming in?”

“Sometimes he does at dinner.”

“Let’s hope.”

“Here he comes!”

Two AUs opened the door, and in walked an entourage, led by a man in a white tunic. He strode slowly into the hall. Spontaneously, the slow, rhythmic clapping of earlier broke out.

Master Eli paused, smiled and offered the shoulder salute to his flock.