Chapter 99: Neil San Francisco — 1985 Mystery

Neil sits at home, head in his hands. He cannot even bake. He does not remember any recipes. Even he did, even if he read them right out of a book, even if he followed them ingredient by ingredient, spoon by spoon, measure by measure, he knows they would be inedible. They would be so full of bitterness they would give you heartburn, so full of sorrow they would make you ill.

Neil is not listening to Ryan’s voice in the night. He does not hear Huck struggling to turn on the faucet or pecking at the food cupboard. He is unaware of everything but a twisting inside, a sorrow so deep he cannot see an end. He does not know why love and pain are so intricately linked. When one is with you, the other is waiting just outside your door. They say that it is better to have loved and lost but Neil does not agree, loss is too painful. It is better never to have felt at all, than to feel this longing for what can never be.