In the first place I’m gonna tell you about Mike. Everybody loves Mike.
After three years at a university, Mike decided three years at a university is enough, and stopped going. That was five years ago, and he was an economics major with a minor in philosophy. I cannot say for sure what Mike’s study habits were like, how his grades were, or anything along those lines, but can absolutely say that at economics and philosophy both, Mike is completely brilliant.
Mike used to use his economics in ways that you’d expect. The kind of stuff you see on CNN or MSNBC, about the housing market and stocks. Whatever. I’d often come home and Mike would be arguing at whoever was on TV. “The strength of our dollar should be defined by it’s purchasing power, not how it compares to other failing currencies,” I think I heard him say once. I don’t know.
I live with Mike.
Mike has black and thick hair, broad shoulders, and blue eyes that are the same color blue as the cleaning stuff that comes in spray bottles. Sometimes the spray bottle says window cleaner on it, sometimes it’s for your car’s interior, or it can be all-purpose bathroom. But it’s always that same color blue. So no matter what you’re cleaning, Mike’s blue eyes are making sure you don’t miss a spot. Mike’s perfect, everybody that’s met him thinks. Except for his beard. Mike has a beard like a 17-year-old that hasn’t finished puberty, the yard that somebody fucked up on while spreading grass seed: patchy and weak and, “maybe it’ll be thicker next year.” Except Mike is running out of “next years” faster than most people.
Mike was diagnosed with lymphocytic leukemia two years ago.
Lymphocytic leukemia means that Mike’s white blood cells can’t fight infections, and get in the way of the healthy blood cells that can. Sometimes he feels really tired all of a sudden. Mike told me that lymphocytic leukemia is very similar to lymphoma, except he probably won’t grow a tumor. Mike hasn’t told anybody else about his leukemia…and that he probably won’t grow a tumor. “In the case of any life-shortening illness,” said Mike, “the tendency is to try for a new perspective, to try from then on to ‘live life to the fullest’ or whatever. What’s funny is that everybody else’s distracting and nonstop pity and sympathy completely prevents you from doing that. You get cancer and consider new things like, ‘Maybe I’ll call my grandma more,’ except every time you call grandma, you’re reminded of your cancer when she asks about it and how you’re doing.
“Living life to the fullest means keeping your problems to yourself.”
Mike still talks about economics all the time, but not like before. Like, there’s a stack of envelopes next to the mattress that he sleeps on: bills, account cancelings, default notices, follow-up default notices, the unmarked white envelopes that arrive when you ignore the follow-up default notices. I asked Mike before if he’s ever going to respond to any of those, or even open the envelopes. “No.” Why not? “Because I don’t have any way to pay off any of that stuff.” Isn’t this a problem? “Maybe. And when you have a problem, there are two ways to get rid of it: undergo the processes and steps required to actually solve it, or just pretend that it doesn’t exist. Ignoring all that shit is much simpler than actually doing something about it. It’s basic economics, man.”
Mike has his half of the rent every month. I don’t much care to know where that money comes from. Even if Mike didn’t have his half of the rent every month, I probably wouldn’t ask him to leave, because then there would be nobody.
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