"Hey man, you in there?" The door opens further with
each knock. I slowly step inside reminding myself that I am an invited guest.
The light from a television fills another room as I close the door behind me. The search ends as I find him slumped on the sofa. A nearly empty vodka bottle rests on the floor with pictures scattered across the glass coffee table. An uneasy silence fills the room as I grab the remote and jab the mute button.
"Dude, what is going on?" I am surprised and a little frightened. I have never seen him like this.
"What's going on? When did you get here?" The haggard face raises slightly to finally acknowledge my presence.
"I've been standing right here, you left the fucking door open. What is going on, you sick?" Our eyes lock briefly and the emptiness in those familiar eyes does not ease my mind.
"What are you talking about. I am fine. Here, take a seat." Pictures fall to the floor as he points at a chair perpendicular to the couch. He grabs one of the photos from the floor and disappears again while examining it.
"You are not fine. What the hell? Why are you drinking? For christ's sake, it is ten o'clock in the morning." I feel like an angry parent as I try to figure out what is happening.
"Did I ever show you this picture?" He holds the small rectangle in his outstretched arm as I snatch it away.
"Yeah, I think I remember this one. Didn't you have this on your desk in the old house?" I smile at the small boy in the picture as he giggles while sitting on my friend's lap. I try to estimate his age, he seems to be around two, so the photo is about sixteen years old. I look up to confirm my calculations, but the sadness on his face is palpable. I am suddenly aware of the pain hanging in the air. My heart rate increases as I expect the worst.
"Hey, that's right, great memory, you always were smart. You see, he's laughing, that laugh always brightened my day. Did I ever tell you the Super Bowl story?" He takes the photo from my hand and loses himself in it once again.
"Yeah, I remember that one, he was a good sport that year. Hey, tell me, what the hell is going on? Did something happen?" I feel the sweat break out across my body as I wait for the bad news.
"He always was a good sport. Did something happen? Yeah, you might say that, but you already know - don't play dumb with me." He wags his finger in my direction while grabbing the bottle with the other hand. It seems like a bad movie as I try to remember if I had ever seen him drink so much.
"Give me that." I grab the bottle and hold it as I stand and try to give him a look that tells him to fill me in.
"What the hell? Give that back." He tries to stand but gravity and the missing contents of the bottle return him to the sofa.
"Come on, spill it, what happened because I have no clue." The bottle shakes in my hand as my voice rises.
"Fuck, you know what happened! You know what I did! Why does everyone want to keep reminding me? I never expected you to turn against me." He lowers his head and sits with hands resting across his thighs. I finally notice the same boy in every picture on the table.
"Shit, not that again. Look, you made a mistake. Like I've said before, you need to move on and forgive yourself." I sit the bottle on the television as the shell of my friend sits in front of me. He looks like he has been through a fight and he lost - lost badly.
"I can't, he's gone." His hands rise and motion toward the table in a sweeping motion like one of the models on the Price Is Right.
"Gone, he's gone? What happened?" The fear is startling as I assume the worst again.
"Yes, he left, he's gone. I ruined it, ruined everything."
"Oh, he'll be back. Kids say lots of shit, but he'd never leave you." I am not sure if I truly believe what I am saying, but I sound confidant.
"You don't understand. He's gone, moved out. He let me know what I am not - despite the history." His voice trails off as he continues to mumble inaudibly.
"Where is your other roommate?" I can't win the argument so I continue to collect information.
"Who knows and who cares."
"Well, okay, I guess you've had a bad day. Everybody will be okay when y'all have time to cool off."
"No, he let me know his decision a while back. I didn't tell anybody. I guess I hoped it was just talk. But, I have only myself to blame."
"Look, he's a kid. We all say and do things that we don't mean. Just give it some time." I was surprised he hadn't told me a while back, but he had not been as open after the details of recent actions had been revealed.
"No, he hasn't wavered since telling me a while back. Unlike me, he's always been consistent and not a liar. You know, I sacrificed a lot for him - I never let him down like others, well, until recently."
"Did you tell him that?"
"No, it's not for me to say. The only thing I could do is apologize again, but it wasn't enough. Shit, how did I fuck up the one thing I couldn't lose?"
"Just give it some time." I could think of nothing better to say and I didn't believe it. I knew, we all knew, what he had done. We sat their in silence as I searched for something positive to say.
The light from a television fills another room as I close the door behind me. The search ends as I find him slumped on the sofa. A nearly empty vodka bottle rests on the floor with pictures scattered across the glass coffee table. An uneasy silence fills the room as I grab the remote and jab the mute button.
"Dude, what is going on?" I am surprised and a little frightened. I have never seen him like this.
"What's going on? When did you get here?" The haggard face raises slightly to finally acknowledge my presence.
"I've been standing right here, you left the fucking door open. What is going on, you sick?" Our eyes lock briefly and the emptiness in those familiar eyes does not ease my mind.
"What are you talking about. I am fine. Here, take a seat." Pictures fall to the floor as he points at a chair perpendicular to the couch. He grabs one of the photos from the floor and disappears again while examining it.
"You are not fine. What the hell? Why are you drinking? For christ's sake, it is ten o'clock in the morning." I feel like an angry parent as I try to figure out what is happening.
"Did I ever show you this picture?" He holds the small rectangle in his outstretched arm as I snatch it away.
"Yeah, I think I remember this one. Didn't you have this on your desk in the old house?" I smile at the small boy in the picture as he giggles while sitting on my friend's lap. I try to estimate his age, he seems to be around two, so the photo is about sixteen years old. I look up to confirm my calculations, but the sadness on his face is palpable. I am suddenly aware of the pain hanging in the air. My heart rate increases as I expect the worst.
"Hey, that's right, great memory, you always were smart. You see, he's laughing, that laugh always brightened my day. Did I ever tell you the Super Bowl story?" He takes the photo from my hand and loses himself in it once again.
"Yeah, I remember that one, he was a good sport that year. Hey, tell me, what the hell is going on? Did something happen?" I feel the sweat break out across my body as I wait for the bad news.
"He always was a good sport. Did something happen? Yeah, you might say that, but you already know - don't play dumb with me." He wags his finger in my direction while grabbing the bottle with the other hand. It seems like a bad movie as I try to remember if I had ever seen him drink so much.
"Give me that." I grab the bottle and hold it as I stand and try to give him a look that tells him to fill me in.
"What the hell? Give that back." He tries to stand but gravity and the missing contents of the bottle return him to the sofa.
"Come on, spill it, what happened because I have no clue." The bottle shakes in my hand as my voice rises.
"Fuck, you know what happened! You know what I did! Why does everyone want to keep reminding me? I never expected you to turn against me." He lowers his head and sits with hands resting across his thighs. I finally notice the same boy in every picture on the table.
"Shit, not that again. Look, you made a mistake. Like I've said before, you need to move on and forgive yourself." I sit the bottle on the television as the shell of my friend sits in front of me. He looks like he has been through a fight and he lost - lost badly.
"I can't, he's gone." His hands rise and motion toward the table in a sweeping motion like one of the models on the Price Is Right.
"Gone, he's gone? What happened?" The fear is startling as I assume the worst again.
"Yes, he left, he's gone. I ruined it, ruined everything."
"Oh, he'll be back. Kids say lots of shit, but he'd never leave you." I am not sure if I truly believe what I am saying, but I sound confidant.
"You don't understand. He's gone, moved out. He let me know what I am not - despite the history." His voice trails off as he continues to mumble inaudibly.
"Where is your other roommate?" I can't win the argument so I continue to collect information.
"Who knows and who cares."
"Well, okay, I guess you've had a bad day. Everybody will be okay when y'all have time to cool off."
"No, he let me know his decision a while back. I didn't tell anybody. I guess I hoped it was just talk. But, I have only myself to blame."
"Look, he's a kid. We all say and do things that we don't mean. Just give it some time." I was surprised he hadn't told me a while back, but he had not been as open after the details of recent actions had been revealed.
"No, he hasn't wavered since telling me a while back. Unlike me, he's always been consistent and not a liar. You know, I sacrificed a lot for him - I never let him down like others, well, until recently."
"Did you tell him that?"
"No, it's not for me to say. The only thing I could do is apologize again, but it wasn't enough. Shit, how did I fuck up the one thing I couldn't lose?"
"Just give it some time." I could think of nothing better to say and I didn't believe it. I knew, we all knew, what he had done. We sat their in silence as I searched for something positive to say.
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