I sat waiting and quiet on the
grass while my friend clicked the lighter that emerged from his pocket.
“I’ve always removed the safety,”
he explained. “Doesn’t seem to do much for me.”
There was a restless tension in the
air as he snapped and sputtered.
“We can start, I suppose. There’s
not much else going on today.”
I mumbled something in response and
glanced at my watch. It was the sort of day that revealed it hadn’t rained in
some time. The skies are always crisp immediately following a storm, airy but
with a faint heat. The dampness of the morning was quickly transforming into
humidity.
“I’m going away soon,” he began,
“and I won’t be seeing you for a while. Don’t let this stop you from doing
anything you used to do.” I nodded and waited for him to continue, but it would
be a few minutes before he finished his cigarette and sighed, pulling himself
together cross-legged on a rock.
“Jesus, I feel like a piece of
paper.”
“Paper?”
I leaned away and crinkled my nose to escape the pungency of his smoky breath.
“Paper’s
this really useful thing, right? Draw on it when you’re bored. Write things
down when you don’t want to forget them. But when just one drop of water or
spit gets on paper, it twists—“
He
paused as the lighter clicked again.
“It
just sort of distorts. Doesn’t fix itself. I guess I’ve been feeling more like
that every day.”
We sat
together for some time after that, ranking girls from school and sharing pieces
of forgotten food or the occasional drink, while the sound of summer insects
grew around us.
“You
won’t tell anyone that you never knew me?” he asked after another pause.
This was the first thing that had
surprised me.
“Last time I got in trouble, it led
to more than a few breaks in my friendships. I hope you’re not going to be one
of them this time.”
Last time his uncle called the
police and had him arrested, he was a figure in my past, as far off in my
memory as any other classmate from my preschool days. Today, however, things
were different.
“It would be difficult to forget
you even if I wanted to,” I replied.
He snorted and rolled his head,
readjusting himself to a more serene pose on his rocky rostrum. At this point,
my lack of lunch put me in one of those unfortunate yet inevitable spells of
cranky attitude. I plucked and rolled a piece of grass between my fingers with
jerking motions.
“I don’t see what you’re so worried
about,” I began again, “who was the last person you met who you didn’t do
something incredible for? That’s not something that people forget. That’s also
not likely to stop in the future.”
Sensing my impatience, he chewed
thoughtfully on his next cigarette and pulled off his shoes, bare feet flopping
out on to the grass.
“Don’t think I haven’t heard what
people say. I’m some sort of bad influence, a trouble-maker. I’d like to see them
all again. I’d thank them, give them a slap on the back or two or…” His words
began to trail off.
Something in his internal clock
clicked and he stood up, staring at a patch of trees nearby. Wordlessly he
wandered towards them, lighter in hand, plastic dag dangling from the other. I
rolled over and fell asleep after the first few minutes of waiting.
On my reawakening, I felt him
standing over me, burning and sincere in the slow afternoon. I was eighteen and
had never been more tired. He grabbed my shoulders but fell away, singing to
himself. I didn’t have any words left to offer.
I took what remained from his now
clammy palms and watched his body rise over the hill and out of sight. His
shoulders were not slumped or crooked, but something in his body was out of
place after the weight of his years. I touched my lips to his final gift and
drew a careful breath. It never reached my lungs. I coughed and left the final
embers to burn in their place, waiting for other some questioning soul to
inhale the wispy vapors of its pungent promise.
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