Tuesday, September 6, 2011

God Damn, That's A Pretty Fuckin' Good Milk Shake. I Don't Know If It's Worth Dying But It's Pretty Fuckin' Good.

"So I woke up in a strange bed still drunk, and when I looked at the person next to me . . ."

"Suzanne," I said, cutting her off as quickly as I could, "why are you telling me this?" I really loved Suzanne, but I can honestly say without fear of guilt that she can be a bit much at times. Usually, Marley was there to be the buffer when she started to push the limits of my patience, but this time, it was just the two of us.

But the thing that truly had me in disbelief is that this whole thing was my idea. I'd always regretted being so dismissive to her when we were in Angel training, plus since she and Marley had become such close friends, getting to know Suzanne better just seemed like the right thing to do. And that's how we ended up in Shake Shack, since she wanted to know about my interests too, plus they don't have them in Chicago yet.

"I'm just trying to explain," she continued, "that there are thing in my past that I'm not too proud of. I look back at my high school and college years, and I feel ashamed of some of the things I did. And the way I treated people."

My supportive angel instinct kicked in. "Everyone does things like that when they're young. Hell, you're practically supposed to things you regret later. It's part of becoming an adult."

"That's the thing. I never really grew up. My Lupus symptoms started just a couple years after college. It was like my life was taken away. First I was sad. Then it was hard to function, then it was just a lot of pain and hospital stays. I never really had the chance to be me as a grown up."

"And that's why being an angel is so important to you," I said.

"Yep. But it's not just about, like, making up for stuff I've done. It's like, I never had the chance to turn my life around. But I can help other people do it, I can, like, exist through them."

I smiled. "When'd you become so deep?"

She giggled. "When I died."

A minute earlier, I was horrified. Now I felt like she deserved something. I handed her my cup. "Here, you've got to try this. It's the Concrete Jungle. It's vanilla custard with hot fudge, peanut butter and bits of banana. You'll think you've died and gone to Heaven again."

She tried it and her jaw dropped. "Oh my God. Now I really wish they had these in Chicago."

"You're in Heaven," I reminded her. "If you want to pimp out your version of Chicago to have a Shake Shack, just do it."

She laughed. "You just want everywhere to be like New York City."

I threw my hands up. "And . . . ?"

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