RAM: The Open Book

It was many years ago that I met my friend. I was nineteen and he was twenty-four. We were going to art school in Pittsburgh, finding ourselves, discovering ourselves. My friend was older, he was wiser than I. I was wise beyond my years. The love we had for each other was never spoken, until the end, but throughout our lives it was proven by our actions. When we were young, we were inseparable, we thought our friendship would endure forever. Our eighties would be spent on a front porch somewhere, sitting in rocking chairs, smoking pipefulls of weed. The dreams of young people. The expectation that life will serve me and last for us.

The car follows the road around a gully and points me into the setting sun. The colors are so vivid at this time of day. Saturating the golden grasses and hills with yellows and reds then purples and blues. Intensity of color for the intensity of life. How many other people are traveling up and down this road, bitching and moaning about the sun in their eyes and how they can’t see, and if they’re not careful they’re going to wreck the car? They won’t wreck the car. Their car will see them through. The sunlight and the sunset are blessings.

By the time I get to my house four and half hours later I am seeing double. I need a drink. I need to go to sleep. I need a good dream.

I go out to the car and get behind the wheel. I put the key into the ignition and start the engine. Sitting in the seat I let it warm up. I test the new speakers by turning the radio on. A year ago from this day, my healthy best friend was out on the street giving me a last hug before I left from a weekend visit. I don’t have much time left, he whispered in my ear. Within three months he was in the hospital. Within four months he was sent home to pass away quietly. Within a year we wondered how much longer it would be. How much longer would be this life.

The guys are out in the yard watching me. Waving. As I pull away from the curb, the neighbor waves. The sun is setting in my rearview mirror. I depart from this world of the afterlife.