Change

Change?

“Cancer,” I thought as I flicked my cigarette butt into the cemetery parking lot. That was the way we always imagined we would go. We discerned as, with as many cigarettes, we smoked, especially in gym class, karma had us destined for lung cancer. I never dreamt in a billion years Alex would have done this. It continues to leave me with this persistent eerie feeling of disbelief and numb despair.

Are these feelings normal? Am I even normal? Am I really all right? F**k all these questions! These damn questions have been driving me mad for two days straight. I got the phone call at 3:46 a.m. It was my sister informing me that Alex, my high school best friend, overdosed. I sat there in my satin boxers in disbelief ‘til sun up. He was a senior kid who took my goofy, shy, smart-a*s underneath his wing and showed me the ropes. Hell, I lived with him for a year before I left for college. Now he is gone and I never had a chance to tell him goodbye and how much he meant to me.

Suddenly a soft voice shook me out of my trance, and I remembered I was being spoken to. The voice was vaguely familiar.

“Are you doing ok?”

I glanced slightly over my left shoulder and replied somberly to her, “Yeah I guess.”

Yeah I guess. Really? That’s the best I could say?! Why couldn’t I have said no or yes? Instead I said yeah I guess. Who does that? Really?! Who is neither one way nor another at a funeral? You’re either heartbroken because you lost someone you care about, or happy for one or two reasons. Either: A) you believe in that whole spiritual spill about life after death or, B) that you’re happy that rat b*****d is dead.

As she drew closer I realized it was Morgan, and she asked if I was okay once she reached me. I could tell she sensed I was struggling with the poor placement of words and all. Back in the day, Morgan was the girl I always had a thing for. The seven years I’ve been gone were not kind to her. Her beauty, back then, is what had kept her unattainable in my mind. I always felt she was out of my league, and unapproachable, except for being just friends. Now that once heavenly body is gone. I feel this was due to her three kids she had now and her poor job choice at “Fap Town”. Once again she spoke and shook me out of the mental replay of the past, as I so frequently do.

“Have you gone to see him yet?” she asked hesitantly. “No, not yet” I replied sharply. Who had I become? Here is the girl I was crazy about, trying to be caring, and all I seem to be able to do is be a jerk. These were the people I knew before the suit and briefcase. The people who had my back before anyone. The people who accepted me, for me, and never asked me to change. I guess time does that to you, you know. Makes you change into something you didn’t see coming. Looking at myself it was clear I had become one of those “d****e bags” we used to mock in high school. I traded in my DC’s for some Sperry’s, my Zoo York T for a Polo, and my sweats and hoodie for a suit and tie. Hell, even my hair had changed. I used to support a shag, and now my hair is plump and primped. Who had I become?!

“You sure you’re okay? You look constipated,” she said in a lightly joking way. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I smirked. “We should go see him now,” she chokingly said. All I could say were the three words I kept going to like a starving piglet to his mother’s tit. “Yeah, I guess.”

It seemed like we walked a mile in the next twenty feet. I remembered the first time Alex and I met. I had just moved to a small town in Texas ironically named Happy. Really, the name of this God forsaken city is Happy. There was nothing Happy for me when I moved here. The kids already had their cliques, because they had known each other since preschool; when they would make mediocre hand turkeys for thanksgiving, and eagerly wait for their parents’ forced, half a*s attempt at approval for such juvenile things. Their parents were friends and their parents’ parents were friends. So, here I was, causing a rift in their nice little way of life. From my very first day it was obvious it was going to be a f*****g ball busting experience. They acted as if I wasn’t even there, like fart in the elevator unwanted and unseen. The teachers didn’t even acknowledge me. I swear I could have slapped my English teacher, Mr. Smith, with my book and he wouldn’t have even noticed. After a week of this, I was on the verge of dropping out�" then I met Alex. Now, Alex wasn’t like the rest of the people in this little hick town. He was 6’3, long black hair, and as skinny as a stripper pole. He honestly reminded me of a punk-style Jesus… and in a way he was. By this I mean he didn’t fit in and was considered an outcast. “Hey bro, ya blow?”

Every time I think of his first words to me I chuckle. Who asks someone a question like that? Especially someone that you don’t know. Was he testing me? Was he the teacher’s snitch? I didn’t know, but like a dumb freshman I said, “No, what’s that? ”. He got a sly grin came crept across his face and said, “Follow me youngster.” I reluctantly said, ”Oooo….okay?”

We just walked out of the school. Right past the old senile security guard (who died the next year by the way). It’s not like he died of anything normal or tragic. He choked on a Sugar Daddy while sitting on his toilet. (He died like a King). Apparently he had a health problem and he felt the bathroom was the safest place to hide from his wife. We walk a bit ways into the woods and he pulled out what looked like a shriveled up cigarette. That one tiny skunk weed joint is what sparked up our friendship. What I miss about smoking then and smoking now is everything was cheaper and left me with my mind; I just felt good. Now days everyone is smoking that medicinal crap. We sat there and smoked three more and just talked. Not about our feelings and about ourselves, but the normal stoner talk. Like if we killed everyone in the world and stacked up their bodies could we reach the moon? All of a sudden we stopped.

“How does he look?” I looked down and didn’t recognize him. Not only had he lost the life in his face, but it was obvious the drugs had messed him up bad. “He doesn’t look like Alex.” I muttered. “Yeah, he got bad after you left. You were the only family he had and the only person that brought joy to his life. He connected to you when he first met you. He talked about you and all the crazy memories yawl had. His favorite was when yawl “Houdini” the McBeth twins. He wrote about it and to you in his goodbye letter…”

Was this my fault? He had tried to call me last weekend but I didn’t answer because I was at the bar with some friends from law school. Why didn’t I pick up? Jim picked up three calls that night. Was I secretly ashamed of my best friend? The guy who gave me a couch to sleep on when my parents kicked me out. We called each other “fam” and “brother”. She was right; his friends were all he had. His parents left him with his grandma when he was six and she died when he was a junior in high school. Also what did he say in the letter? I thought I knew him, but the more I think about it I didn’t know jack squat about him after seven years of being away. Hell, I didn’t even know me anymore.

“…. I left the letter in my car; we can get it after we pay our respects.” She finished,

“I still can’t believe you two got those tattoos together,” she said giggling and fighting back tears. “Y’all were always a mess and it was way too easy for yawl to get each other in trouble.”

I looked down at his arm and saw that God awful idea on his forearm. Then I raised my sleeve to see mine. I really don’t know why we got matching hatchet man tattoos. I mean we considered ourselves Juggalos back then but now it seems so childish. We had no idea what we were. All we knew was that we could relate to Insane Clown Posse and felt like we were part of the Juggalo following. We were so drunk and on one to many hydros to think that idea was a smart one. The good thing about Alex is that he always found the good in all of our many bad ideas. Not just the tattoos but even when we went to jail for hood surfing down main street which is also the only “main” street in town. He told me after our mug shots and our finger prints something so wise, “we live only once. So live today with zero regrets and zero challenges untried, because that goalie you scored on might be a jealous redneck boyfriend with a gun.” I always thought it was just funny because the goalie reference. He was one guy who would know a girl’s boyfriend was coming over but still go and cuddle and bail out the window seconds before he got there. I always knew he was saying live life to the fullest because it isn’t promised tomorrow. I just wish I knew his tomorrow was yesterday.

We stood there idle for a while ; just taking in the moment. I kept thinking of how time flies and how time changes a person�" like it does the world around us. Like the constant change in the Ford Mustang’s body build. I could also tell Morgan was thinking the same by her glassy eyes and her glare into the blue sky. “Well, it’s time for me to pick up the kids from the babysitter’s house,” she said ,quietly breaking the silence. “Yeah I got to go to. I have dinner plans with my sister in an hour”, I replied. We walked back to our cars with only looks at each other for words. As I was about to get into my car, she pulled up and said, “Here is the letter, I made me a copy. I know he would want you to have the original.” I said thank you, gave her a hug, and she drove off. I stood there holding the letter, thinking to myself�" realizing it would be another ten years before I saw her again.

I opened the letter and scanned trough it until it got to the part he wrote for me. It read:

“…. and Jason my brother my best friend in this hell of a place we call earth. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to say bye and that it’s been so long since we have seen each other. Man I have missed you and the way you could so easily get me out of these funks. I know your probably is shock about this. So first off I’d like to tell you not to blame yourself. It’s not your fault in no way. Sometimes it’s hard to go on. I was too weak to keep fighting. People come into your life at different points in your life for different reasons. They also leave because not one person’s path is the same. I am so proud you got out of here and made something of yourself. You have changed into one hell of a man. I knew that if any of us did it would be you. You have always been my brother and the one person I believed in, even when I couldn’t believe in myself. I’m happy you were in my life as long as you were. You will mean more to me than I could ever tell you……”

The letter then went on about how and why he did what he did. It was too painful for me to read. As I stood their sobbing I realized that some things don’t change. Like the feelings you have for those people who were there for you. Even though I was a totally different person I knew that my feelings for him were the same. He will always be considered a brother by me, I will always miss him, and love him. As I wiped away my tears and drove away I was at peace. At peace about his death and at peace at the change in myself. Alex knew of my potential and of the man I would become long before I did. Even after death he was helping me become a better person and teaching me lessons. Lessons that he did way back when. Lessons that help change me into why I am now, and for that I will always thank him.

Reviews

[Gary Brady]

A very enjoyable read, well done.
It was quite tough to read as it flashes around a lot and the emotions seemed to be all over the place but given the subject matter it suited it well.