Mike

“And with that, we will be going to commercial.”

I smiled at the camera, shuffled some papers, waiting for my cue.

“Off!”

My face went deadpan.

“Next segment, breaking news. Plane crash, three dead, 32 injured. Names of the deceased are Fran Elliston, Mike Fairburn, and Emerie Hud–”

“Mike who?”

“Fairburn. Mike Fairburn.” She looked at me, some amount of disdain clearly palpable. Erica never liked it when we cut it close during commercials. She never liked delaying our segments. A minute thirty. She liked to get us up to speed for the next segment in a minute thirty, nothing more. Anything past was a failure.

Mike. When I used to skate, he recorded me down the rails. At my wedding he told a lovely speech. Lots laughed. After the split, he was the first there. Mike.

Mike’s a common name.

“Images,” Erica said. Her voice plain as ever. Erica spoke the way steel felt.

I glanced down. I did not want to. But I had to know.

It was Mike.

“Mike’s dead?”

She looked at me puzzled. “You knew him?”

I kept my thoughts to myself. For it was not Erica’s fault that Mike was. That Mike was… That Mike was go–

“How much do we have left on commercial?” she asked into a mic clipped to her shirt. She nodded.

“I’m sorry,” her eyes meeting mine. It could be easy to forget, there was a person there too. We rarely made eye contact, her eyes always down at the report. Mine, usually at the light beige clipboard she carried around. I don’t think I’d seen her without it. They were almost inseparable.

We were almost inseparable.

“Emerie Hudson”

I adjusted my tie.

From behind the camera, “Live in three, two,”

Cleared my throat.

Silence.

“And in a tragic plane crash, 32 civilians were left injured, and 3 people died,” I said.

“Fran Elliston”

“Mike Fairburn”

“Emerie Hudson”

I heard myself say, “Our hearts go out to the families of those affected. Those lost, we stand with you.”

I thought it would hurt to say. That my voice would crack or that I’d stutter. That my eyes would drop to the floor, or they’d tear up. None of this happened. I think this made it worse. That I could deliver the death of my Mike. The Mike who would knock and talk to me from behind the screen door when Mother said I could not go out to play. Deliver it so casually. Like it had no effect on me.

There was no traffic on the drive home.