Ch. 17
What came before, Who was I then?
Before your eyes met mine
That man I was, wild and young
No longer in him may I hide
For this heart of mine
Though soon to die
Hopes for better days in you
Dreams a dream of life in you
Dreams... Hopes...
Hopes and Dreams.
Pray dear God would you let them be.
Parking is a bitch this time of year at campuses all over the country, but here at Miami it is a mother fucking nightmare. It was a nightmare more for me because 1) large crowds freak me the fuck out and there were a gazillion people around our car, and 2) the one place my family and I were trying to get to was in ground fucking zero of this chaos. It was graduation weekend and I was going to a party right next to said fucking graduation ceremony. Watch where you’re going you fucking moron, my dad quietly yelled from inside the car. Good old driver’s rage. Run’s in the family I swear. One time a dude cut my grandpa off on the highway, so he followed the mother fucker home to curse him out. Turns out this dude thought my Grandpa was going to kill him so he gets on his knees and begs, saying he’s got a wife and kids to take care of and shit like that. Please don’t kill me mister, he says to my grandpa. Please. Please. I’m begging ya. Naturally, my Grandpa confused at what had just happened gave into another family trait of ours, namely an adversity to awkwardness, and high tailed it out of their. I wish I could have been there to see that. My grandpa at his finest. But anyway, as I was saying, the now christened graduates were getting out and it was pure fucking chaos.
As people poured out like a dam had just broke somewhere or something we struggled our way through the traffic as best we could. Damn, Yager Stadium must have been fucking packed with all these people. Which reminded me. Did I remember my Jager flask. Check fucking yes I did. This is the real shit. Some medicine to cure the nerves. Because, considering where we were headed, I was going to need something to chill me the fuck out. For we were off to Barstool’s. Off to Franky and Denise’s to attend the second of two formalities of the season, namely graduation and the following party. A ceremony and a celebration before both of them started the rest of their lives that would soon be completely absent of me. The more I thought about this the faster I pounded my flask. Is there fucking boos in there, my mother says, as she quickly turned around in the car half shocked. Hunny, my dad turns and says to my mom. Give the kid a break, if I was in his situation I’d want to fucking drink a little buzz on too… No offense bud, he looks to me in the rear view mirror. None taken Daddio, I cheers to him as I raise my flask up and down. Downing the last drop I move to screw the top back on and return it to my jacket pocket. I gazed out the window at all those who passed me by. They were all... You mother fucker, my dad finally explodes as a car cuts around him. Good ole Colonel keeping it professional and raining hell on some mother fuckers, I think to myself silently. Ok this is ridiculous, my dad says to us all. Buddy, you and your mom just get out and me, Dugan, and Bobby will meet you there. No sense in all of us being late, he says, in a tad bit calmer sigh. Were doing what, Dugan chimed in. We’re staying in this hell hole of a fucking nightmare while your brother and your mother don’t miss the beginning of the party. That is, unless that is if the two of you would like to join them, and I’ll just do this by myself, my dad says, not even turning around to make eye contact with either of them. Nope I’m good. Just wanted to double check. Dugan says, with cautious laughter. Just checking that’s all, he says again. Hey I didn’t say shit about shit, Bobby says with a sigh. I just laughed at the two of them as Dad began again to curse, fluctuating in volumes ranging from barely under his breath to full fledge cacophonies of purging anger.
As me and Mom exited the car on the edge of Sycamore I looked out on a scenery I once knew. A place I felt like I had grown up in. Yup, there was the house where the frat once laid. There was Matt Maney’s old house. And then there it was... the gals and Barstool’s lovely abode. It all seemed timeless. Like it would never change, but change was on the horizon as it always is. Nothing ever static. Nothing ever stays the same. Nothing lasts longer than the brief moments and memories we are able to cling to. Nothing lasts. Not in this lifetime at least. Fragility. Incompleteness. Pain and more pain. This is what man knows most in this world. Nihilism as a birthright and suicidal tendencies as a coming of age. As we made our way down the block it seemed the weather forecast for the entire day was pretty fucking spot on. It was raining now as it had been and was to continue to be. More of a drizzle than a full fucking storm, but raining nonetheless. Raining and filled with red robed individuals leaving Yager stadium. Dancing in their sadness and singing in their joy. Dreaming of the future. Lamenting of their youth.
They had done it. They had graduated from this heathen death trap of utter debauchery. This lovely oasis of higher learning. They had done it without me. They had done it… without me. It was raining and they were leaving, but it had not always been this way. There was a time where the sun shone and set on us in younger days. A time when the thought of leaving this place seemed an utter impossibility. We were so young and we believed we would be here forever. At least that's what we thought in those days. We failed to note how fleeting our youth was and how ever more fleeting was our time amongst one another’s smiles. I remember a time of first meetings amongst us. Little freshmen running off to the frat together. Our lives were so new. Our friendships even newer. And best of all we were on our way to the place we loved most in this array of new possibilities. But then again, it coulda been any place that we were headed to as long as we were together. Anywhere we could sing and dance and drink and play. We thought it would never end. It was just seconds ago. It was just seconds. Now those seconds have passed and they were leaving. They were leaving.
Well all of them except Ethan. Ethan was part of the crew originally. Sorry I forgot to mention that. Ya he had the good ole Miami victory lap to go still. I told him I’d be doing it with him. He was so excited. Talked about living together. Making up for all the time we had lost this last year. I hated lying to him, but part of me didn’t. We live in our lies, not because we always want to, but because part of us needs the home they make. Part of us wants to write the narrative of our dreams that we know we are never meant to or capable of making true. Ethan may not be leaving, and his story here may have not yet reached its end, but for the three of us it was… well and Barstool. Franky and Denise were leaving, or at least I can only assume that to be true, given that my family and I were headed to their graduation party. Given their house was so conveniently located across the street from Johnny’s (our beloved beer den and eatery of sorts) I decided to swing in and grab our favorite, unfavorite beer of freshmen year: NATTY MOTHER FUCKING ICE. God damn was this stuff just this most putrid shit ever fucking canned. Though it was cheap medicine and oddly reminiscent of diarrhea, it did have almost twice the alcohol content of a normal beer. So, all and all, we put up with it in our more formative years. Maybe it would remind us of simpler times and if not, at least it would help me to forget.
As the two of us made our final steps on the sidewalk outstretched before their house, I realized there was no amount of booze I could consume that would functionally get me through this. No, in these moments to come, I would not be able to turn my mind away. Away from the madness. Away from me. We moved slowly up the driveway, each step more drawn out than the last. Silently, up through the carport and in through the side door we made our way. I was there, but didn’t feel like it. My reality was slipping through my fingers once again, or something confusing like that. To be honest I had no idea how I was feeling. Mainly just confused I guess. Confused in my own denial of what had all and what was about to occur. Confused and trying my best to ready myself for that which encroached upon me. That none of us would be here to see the leaves change in hue once more.
Yes, they were leaving. Denise to Germany to teach english in a few months and Franky back to Jacksonville where she was from to start her new community arts internship. God what brilliant futures they had in front of them. Their futures were brilliant for they themselves were truly so. See, little did Miami know that though thousands graduated today there were two that stood out amongst the rest. O’ how little did Miami know that today two of the most heart filled gals in all of history’s splendor were leaving its grounds for good. As we made our way past their laundry room, Barstool bustled through the hallway to greet us both with a big bear hug and a shot of this peculiar Croatian liquor that his mother, whom being full blown fucking Croatian, had brought. Man I loved that fucker. Didn’t care too much for the liquor he shoved down me and my mom’s throats, but hell did I love him.
Barstool, though a year older than us, was graduating as well. He had decided upon achieving Miami’s more traditional untraditional graduation route, as Ethan was about to embark upon. You’d be surprised in this day and age how much more common the five year plan is compared to the “traditional” four years. I personally think the schools like it that way. Sucking out every last fucking dime they can while you but sink deeper into your wallowing shit infested pile of debt. Fuck us right. I say this, but I don’t really mean to sound bitter. I really don’t mean to, but bitter I am. If only I had the time to do such a run to victory, but I guess my legs had not the strength anymore, nor the time to even think of such things. As I filed passed the three families, soon to be four including us, that crowded their little living room/kitchen space I saw them. Damn were they beautifully sexy fucking women. They smiled. I smiled. They laughed and I laughed as we embraced one another in a joy appropriate for the occasion.
After we hugged and said our hellos I handed each of them their presents. For Franky I had gotten her a copy of Perks, and told her if she ever missed me she could always have my favorite movie to watch. I gave her this knowing that one day soon I was leaving to a place where God pray she could not go… not yet. So I wanted her to have this movie. I wanted her to have a piece of me she could turn to and think of better days. I pushed the sadness down deep as I thought of leaving Franky with only memories and a goddamn fucking movie. God dammit did I push that sadness down fucking deep. And as I pulled out Denise’s gift from behind my back she chuckled. What I got for Denise was a little more off the collar than what I got Franky. See Denise, being the agnostic psych major she was, could only receive one gift from me. Only one thing did I own that truly fit such a moment as our mutual departure from one another, and that was my first bible. She continued to laugh in crescendo sort of fashion. Only from you bud. Only from you would I be happy about getting a fucking bible as a gift, she says to me in as genuine sort of tone as I could expect. See, what you gots to understand is, I says to her. What exactly do I have to understand bud, she asked in her lovely snarky way. See Denise, I says to her, this isn’t just any old bible. In fact, it’s an extra special one. Is it now, she says, with sarcasm a mist. Well it get me into heaven, she asks me, all sweet and sassy like. No, I said in a laugh. You know we were already doomed to hell a long time ago gurly so don’t go filling your head with pipe dreams like that, I says to her with a big fat grin on my face. Anyway this book isn’t that kinda book. This bible ain’t that kinda bible, I continue to say. Really, she asks me, now more intrigued. Inside you will note a series of profanities and commentaries, some of which are regrettable, that I have scattered throughout, I says to her, slowly disclosing the content of the pages.
I may have profaned against the holy, but it was a sin I was more than happy to account for when I meet my maker, if ever I was to meet him at all. I just wanted her to actually read the damn thing, and if that meant risking going to that imaginary place most of my fellow christians ignorantly call hell so be it. To be able to open her eyes to the mysteries that lay in waiting in this here book was worth risking any stay in fire. God was it worth it. God damn wasn’t she worth it. I think God will forgive me though, given only the best of intentions were at heart. I hope so at least. Who’s to know, maybe I just fucked up on a divine level, but I was here now with her. I was here with her and I saw God in her smile. How could such a smile not be proof enough. Proof enough that divinity lay in the hearts of men and the smiles of beautiful women such as her’s.
The party by this point was well underway, and it was nice to be amongst so much hope. I looked over for a moment at Barstool’s family and saw them laughing. His mom and dad were so proud. His sister so happy, and damn she was actually pretty cute, but she might has well have not even fucking been their. This of course had nothing to do with her. Like I said, she definitely was a cute girl and if she had half of the personality of her brother she’d be quite a catch. I’m sure she is a sweetheart guys, I promise I didn’t mean for that to come out so crass. It wasn’t anything of her accord that made her faint to my gaze. See it’s just hard. It’s just fucking hard to witness the light of another’s perfection when shadows are all on which you feed. As far as I was concerned, there weren’t as many people in this house as everyone else might have perceived. I mean don’t get me wrong there were other people in the room, but it didn’t feel like it. Just the three of us. Just us three. Denise, Franky, and me. Together with the end in sight.
As we were on our way out we said our goodbyes to everyone. Told them how nice it was to meet them. How nice it was to see them again. I hugged the two of them tightly and told them I loved them and that I was so proud. Not just that they had graduated though. But that I was proud to have known them and to have called them friend. I said goodbye even though it felt like I had just first said hello. Time is such a fickle bitch in that way. It just slips away. It slips right through our fucking fingers and there ain’t a goddamn thing we can do about it. The unfortunate thing is I felt like I was the only one seeing it happen. The only witness to its fleeting nature. That while everyone was off living as if they were infinite for better or for worse, I sat there only praying for such a truth’s actuality. They knew this without knowing why, or knowing that in fact they knew not. Not knowing that it is but a shimmering belief to which they conduct their lives. That the passing of time will not come their way. That they will never fade. All men must die they know, but the statement I must die is beyond their reach in this moment. God I hope, in selfishness, it forever is.
I hope that shimmering belief in the eternal never fades from their hearts, whether they call it God or not, because it was the last thing keeping me from putting a fucking bullet in my head and just ending it all. No more pain. No more waiting for the inevitable. Just one tug of the finger. One clean shot through the roof of my mouth and I’d be free. Free from my humanity and let what’s next have me whether it be oblivion or divine songs. But I couldn’t do this so long as they had hope. So long as they believed my life could have meaning. So long as it were not to perish, I too would not force the perishing unto myself. My sunset could still be seen and not set before it even had the chance to blossom. So that the nights wouldn’t grow dark as stars fell away from the sky. So that one day, before my final breath, I might breathe in the beauty this tragically wonderful life has to offer and know true joy for myself just as much as for all others. That I could pass on truly believing that God did not create us to perish into the night. That we had not evolved into self-conscious beings by some cruelty of the cosmos. That we were more than just the universe contemplating its own demise. Not to but struggle and cry, but in the end… in the end just to die.
I know in the grand scheme of things I was lucky if that were the case, even given this little existential crisis I was having on the walk from their house to the car a couple blocks over. I got 22 something years of privilege. Never even dreaming the nightmares of some children’s harsh reality. Never knowing an ounce of pain in regards to what many face in this world. I was lucky, I guess, to be alive and well as long as I was. But is that all? Did I just get lucky? A privileged white male in America at this infinitely small point in history. Maybe. But I hope this isn’t true. I hope there is more... not just for my sake, but for those who suffered infinitely more than I ever could have. So what I’m dying at 22 of nut cancer, boo fucking hoo. It’s not like I just watched my father get decapitated because he belonged to the wrong religion. Or seen my mother get raped and dragged to her death by some militant group trying to take over a small portion of the country that I was born to. I was, in comparison, dying an easy and natural death, a product of a fairly easy and natural life. Suiting, some finer minds may even say. But I’m not completely sold on that bullshit quite yet. For is any death fucking natural? A more perverse Simone de Beauvoir might have answered with a resounding no! Is any life truly that god damn fucking easy to soul’s taste? Whose suffering is less precious than another’s? Who the fuck has the right to play God in that fucking decision??? I don’t know the answer to any of these questions. I don’t even know why I’m fucking asking them, let alone looking for the answers to the fuckers. But there they are, lingering in my head for but my mind’s eye to see. What a fucking torment. What’s a matter son, my dad gently asks. What? Is something going on honey? Are you in pain, my mom chimed up in a panic. No mom don’t worry. I’m not in pain, I told her, as I snapped out of it. I guess I was beginning to look fucking depressed with all this depressing ass shit running through my head like a sewer pipe in Thailand. Come on son. I know that look. What’s on your mind. You know were the last people you have to hide yourself from, he says to me,caring as always. O’ nothing Dad, I promise. Just a little sad that they’re going to be leaving tomorrow. That’s all, I says to him. I gotcha buddy, but you know you’ll see them again right, he says to me. Ya I hope so Dad. I really do hope so, I says one last time, before slipping my headphones on and bearing my nose back into The Courage to Be by Paul Tillich.
Even though I had said goodbye to them last of all those people at the party, I knew I would have to do it one last time tomorrow when our farewell’s would become final. This is what I was really sad about. Underneath all that rambling about the existential nature of man, and all that bullshit, was merely just a feeling of utter remorse that I had not gotten to know them longer. That i’ll never get to tell Denise the truth about everything that I felt. That I’ll never get to see Franky smile again at me. Only unanswered feelings with Denise and images of Franky crying at my funeral is all I would have left, as they too disappeared from my life.
I couldn’t believe it. I wouldn’t. I fucking shouldn’t. I had been saying goodbye my entire life it felt like. The misery of a military brat. But this one was not one of false promises I was use to making. About keeping in touch. Staying friends. Never forgetting each others names. I use to accept these delusions as a child, but I can no longer perpetuate my coping skills. Not with them. Even though making such promises made the whole continual displacement thing bearable while growing up, I could not even imagine uttering them now. Not to them. These half truths I told myself that I had said to my friends of yesteryear were ash in my mouth if dare even spoken to them. Sure me and the gals may talk a few more times before I die. They may even be at my bedside, but this was goodbye in its truest sense and I could not placate it with the tapestries of my devilish tongue this time. This was the final end to our friendship as it was and ever had been. Despair. O’ fatal disease how you will make stay in this heart of mine now that they are gone.
I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore, as I stared at my phone waiting. Waiting in my gibberish mind for them to tell me they were here. Was I talking to myself or merely thinking silently. . What’s real? WHAT'S FUCKING REAL??? WHAT? WHAT? O’ God, please don’t leave me Franky. O’ God Denise. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t fucking ready. God why? They don’t… They don’t know. They don’t… It's not their fault. It's not. God do you hear me?!? Do you fucking hear me? It's not. It's not. It's mine. It's all my fault. Its me. Its me. Not them. Me. Me. ME!!! The phone rang. They were here, and like that clarity was found. I guess something in my brain flipped. Some dial set to denial in moments such as this, from one to many movies growing up. Part of me wanted to fight it. Part of me wanted to feel this. But that part of me was dampened by a part of me yelling SHUT THE FUCK UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET THIS THE FUCK OVER WITH YOU PATHETIC PIECE OF SHIT!!!
Ok just do what you’ve always done bud. You can do this. You’ve done this. It’s not the same though, you know that fucker. You can do this though trust me. You can do this. It’s not time for the truth buddy. It’s not time. It was time to get through this with a stiff fucking upper lip. For them. This was the last chance to see them in good health, but it was also the last time to… Hey guys, I blurted, as I quickly answered the phone before it went to voicemail. I’ll be up in a second. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t fucking ready, I screamed one last time in silence, as I ascended the crumbling stairs. As I reluctantly reached the top of concrete now decrepit, they were there waiting. There they were, standing outside their car with Franky’s mom. God how the two of them never cease to be wonderful. Their glamour radiated even in this sour moment of last goodbyes. We embraced one another. We took a few silly pictures to christen the end of four wonderful years together. We smiled one last time, though they knew not of the finality of this occasion. And, as this short visit winded down to an end, we embraced again as we had done so many times before. First was Franky. She held me tight and told me how much she loved me. I told her how much I loved her. I told her we’d dance again some day and smile and laugh like only we knew how to. That everything about her was a blessing. Every last detail of who she was was a gift from God. And as we let go, and I moved to share the same with Denise, something unexpected happened.
I embraced her tightly as Franky had done with me, but she felt weak in my arms, as she quietly nuzzled her head into my shoulder. She was crying. Why was she crying? Did she know?? How could she have known? What the fuck was going on? Don’t cry too you son of bitch! You don’t cry in moments like this. You never had and you never will. Feel empty. Feel empty you sack of shit. What kind of stupid fucking questions were those anyway… you know why she was crying. She loves you you piece of fucking shit. She’s crying because she loves you. Not because she knows your dirty little secret you piece of filth. I’m gunna miss you so much, she whispered through her sobbing.
Denise wasn’t the type to do this. I’ve never seen her do this before. Not for someone like me. Never. Not Denise. I’m just gunna miss you so damn much, she sobbed in sincerity. I’m not going anywhere, I said. Another lie. Liar. LIAR!!! FUCKING LIAR!!! And as her tears wet my shirt I remember never wanting to let her go. Not like this. She didn’t let people in like this, though love she always did. I didn’t want to let her go, but I had to. I couldn’t hold her any longer not with the deceit I had sown. The liar’s heart I held in my chest was pumping at a speed almost unbearable, but from my stern composure you would have never known that a feeling worse than death was creeping up my spine. I let her go, though not of any desire of my own. My arms just opened and she took a step back. Then it happened. WHAT ARE YOU DOING??? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS??? That’s all I heard in my head as something completely different came out of my mouth. I placed my hand on her cheek to wipe away her tears as one just about to be cruelly baptized. You can stop this. YOU CAN STOP THIS! STOP THIS!! STOP THIS YOU PIECE OF... Denise can I talk to you alone for a sec. It came out of my mouth so easily. I felt like I was watching a movie at first and then bam silence. The voice was gone. My voice was gone, but I was speaking. What… What… Denise can I talk to you alone I promise it won’t take longer than a second. Sure, she said, as she dried the rest of her tears as the clouds began to thicken. What was I doing, the voice whispered. What are we doing? No. I knew what I was doing, but I wasn’t doing it alone. God help me.
The rain whispered calmly in the background of my thoughts as disarrayed clouds broke for seconds at a time, allowing moments of sunshine to glimmer through. I was with her. But I’m not sure she was fully there with me. Not after what I had just told her. She was crying, but it wasn’t like before. This time she was so distant. Maybe she was distant because I had been so when I told her. Emotionless in my tone. I didn’t know what to do. I had never known what to do, simply because I have never… never done this before. She had always been so hopeful. So caring. And now she was just crying, and there wasn’t a fucking thing I could do to stop it. I couldn’t stop my death. I’ve known this for all to long. But she was crying now and all I wanted to do is cry with her, but I was to scared to even do that. Why did I tell her? None of this was fucking fair. Why!! Why did I fucking do this? And then as the rain slowly eased to a cease so did her tears. She looked up. I looked at her. We just sat there looking at each other. Just looking. What was she suppose to say after news like that? What in the fuck was I supposed to say? But then again, I had said enough. We just sat there in silence until she finally left. We didn’t hug like before. We didn’t say bye. I just blinked and she was gone. I told her she was the love of my life and that I was dying. I was dying soon. I didn’t know when exactly, but it was soon. Very soon. What an awful combination of things to say to women you claim to love. See, I fucking told you bud. You shouldn’t have done that, the voice whispered. Don’t worry though I’ll never leave you like that. I’ll never leave you, it silently repeated once again. I’ll never leave you it… I.. it… said in devilish whispers. I’ll never leave you alone. I’ll never leave you. O’ God please help me.