...I must have nodded off. I open my burning eyes to find the room empty and dark, and then I notice a shape in my periphery. Okay, so not empty after all.

"I thought you were never gonna wake up." I could tell by the voice that it was Clarke, the best friend I ever had. I haven't seen him in years. 

"Give me a few more weeks." Clarkie looks more uncomfortable than I had ever seen him. Like a little boy who doesn't know how to react to a situation, and you can read it in every movement.

"Been a while," he says. He looks old. Drained actually. Like he just received the worst news of his life and his face is employing every muscle to hide the fact.

"Sure has." A million memories flash through my brain at that instant. Clarke is an interesting character. I had never met a person more "on" in my entire life. He was like the Neal Cassady to my Jack Kerouac. You could call the guy every night for two weeks straight and never get a hold of him, and then, just when you figured he was gone for good, he'd show up at your place at 3 in the morning with a case of beer and try to recruit you for a drive to the casinos. He lived hard and proved to be too much for a lot of people, but I loved him. His energy was contagious. Looking at him now, it appeared he finally encountered something he wasn't ready for. Clarkie never could handle too much reality at once.

"Karen called and told me."

"So miracles do happen then." I adjust to sit up in bed. "Hey, man, I'm sorry..."

"Don't. There's no need for that."

Karen never liked Clarke. Significant others never did. He expected too much of people. Life was too short for settling down. He was all systems go and expected everyone else to abide by the same philosophy. Those that didn't were left in his wake. We never really had a falling out so much as a fading away. I stopped picking up the phone and he stopped making his late night visits. Fast forward 15 years and I'm dying of cancer. No time left for adventures.

"I've been meaning to call you," I say. "Time just got away from me."

"Yeah, well...you did alright for yourself. Karen, the kids...you have a good life here." He reaches beside his chair and grabs a paper bag. "Hope you don't mind. For old times sake, you know."

He pulls a six pack of beer out of the bag. Same old Clarkie.

"I don't think I can. The medicine..."

"I figured as much." He hands me one anyway. "That's why I emptied them out this morning and filled them with green tea. Thought you might like to feel a bottle in your hand. Just like old times."

"Green tea? Hell, I think I would have preferred the beer." We both laugh.

"I was hoping you'd say that," he says, taking the bottle from my hand. "I only actually switched out one bottle. Take this one instead. One won't kill ya."

"I'd almost prefer if it did." Only I laugh this time. He looks at me as if seeking permission to do the same, and finally offers a comfortable chuckle. Its good to know some things never change. That's how you can tell a truly great friend apart from the bunch. If for some reason you have to part ways, when you do eventually run into each other again, you can rely on the fact that things will pick right up where you left off. It's a good feeling.

The beer tastes better than any beer I've ever had. My mouth tasted like **** all day, so I'm glad for the new flavor.

"You still writing?" I ask.

"I haven't for a while, but I think I may get back to it. Keeps my head clear. Helps me sort out all the **** I have floating around up there."

"I didn't know anything stuck around long enough to float."

"Ouch. Yeah, it's mostly nonsense, I'll give you that. My brain reads like a Peter Gabriel video." 

"How you doing with the ladies?"

"Nothing special going on in that department."

"How's your brother?"

"Jail."

"Damn...again?"

"Life this time. It's for the best, though. He actually likes it there, the crazy ****."

I notice the clock for the first time. It's 3am. The bedroom window is open, too. No way in hell did Karen let Clarkie in this late.

"You climbed through, didn't you?"

"Yeah...Karen called and told me about everything. She didn't invite me over, though." He took a healthy swig of beer. "But you know I couldn't let you check out before I made my own diagnosis."

"Well, second opinions never hurt. What do you think? Am I dying or what?"

"You look okay to me, bro. In fact, I think you're ready for a little roadtrip. Whattaya say?"

He notices my reservation and adjusts his tone to reassure me that he doesn't mean a real roadtrip, although his eyes suggest he was hoping otherwise.

"C'mon, cap'n, we have some business to attend to. One last mission. You can do this."

 "Well, now that I have a little buzz on...I guess I am getting a little restless. What the hell, let's go."

I muster the energy to get dressed and sneak downstairs and out the door behind Clarke. He parked his car a block away so Karen wouldn't hear the engine. Clarke pisses on my neighbors lawn without bothering to stop walking. He seems proud that he doesn't manage to get piss on his pants this time.

We climb in the car and he turns on the radio. Pink Floyd is blasting on his cd changer. He smiles and nods his head to the music. "Just like old times! How's about breaking out some of that medical marijuana, T-bone?"

"I wish. I could go for some of that right now. It's been a while."

"Oh, you mean they didn't give you a big bag? What the ****! That's ridiculous. You're lucky I come prepared with my own pharmaceuticals. You look okay and all, but I think I should prescribe some weed just in case." And with that, he pulls out a sandwich-sized plastic bag filled with pot.

"A little Floyd and reefer, the doctor says!" He lights up a bowl, and we pass it back and forth until the car is filled with smoke. We talk a little more. Never about the cancer though. We talk about life and what we plan on doing with it. And for a little while, I forget that I'm dying. Clarkie's energy rubs off on me one last time, and I'm right with him, living in the moment.

We sit outside until the sun comes up, never going anywhere. He turns the engine on every so often to keep the battery from dying, but otherwise, there are no distractions.

I notice that its 6 and decide its a good time to go back inside, disappointed that the night had to come to an end, fully cognizant of the fact that this was it for Clarke and I. I'd never see him again after today.

We get out of the car and he walks around to my side. I put out my hand to shake his, but he pulls me to him and squeezes me in a bear hug.

"You stay strong, bro, alright?"

"I'll do my best."

"And whereever you end up, save a spot for me, okay?"

"You know it."

"Hell, get in good with the manager. You might have to pull some strings to get me in."

"Most likely."

He walks around to the driver's side.

"Hey," I call after him.

"What's up?"

"Things are gonna be okay, you know."

He looks doubtful, but smiles anyway. "You know it."

"And hey..."

He looks up.

"You did alright for yourself, too."

"You should call up my dad and tell him that."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"You know...it won't be the same knowing I won't be able to come calling whenever I get back to town. It's kinda like I'm losing my anchor."

"Well then you better not go too far out to sea, then."

He smiles wider, even more doubtful this time. "I'm not making any promises."

Clarke jumps in his car and starts the engine and I turn back towards my house. I don't watch him drive away. I'm too busy wondering if someday, somewhere we'll ever cross paths again.