My tongue is in my hand…

Save Tonight

Posted on: September 19, 2008

Do you remember?

This is where we sat when you got back from ROTC camp. We sat on top of the picnic tables eating Little Caesar pizza. You had bought me a navy blue Nautica shirt that was too big but you said there weren’t any smaller sizes at the store on base.

Did you know you were my best friend? You saw right through me and let me know. Commented on things no one else would. Everyone else was fine with me being who I told them I was. Not you. And that gave me the chance to be something else. I was safe with you. I knew you wouldn’t reject a single part of me, whatever it was. That was freedom.

I wish you were here right now, making me laugh- freckled face and dimples. I wouldn’t be surprised if your ears were gauged out and forearms tattooed. No doubt you’d still try to place blame on me for those holes in your ears. That’s fine, I’ll take it now. I am more desperate to know I marked you up somehow. That I wasn’t forgettable, disposable in your collection of memories.

I remember you working that job right out of high school where you said your boss was like Lumburgh on Office Space. I hadn’t seen that movie yet, but you did a great impression. I think of that every time I watch that movie.

It’s funny, before I got out of my car today, Korn came on. There is so much music I hadn’t considered until it was playing in that stereo you had taken out of your room and put in your backseat of that little gray Honda with the purple neon lights underneath it. Korn, ICP (still not a fan), Our Lady Peace, Athenaeum, Better Than Ezra…

Speaking of Better Than Ezra, remember when you played a song by them in your garage/barn/shed and tried to tell me it was a song your band wrote – I almost believed you!

You wanted so desperately to leave a mark all over the world (or your world) and would play these dramatic roles and say crazy things – you’re going in the Russian army?!?! I saw through you and all your drama. I always defended you to others. All but the one time it mattered I guess. How was I supposed to know instead of being on hold, you were on three way? All to pacify my boyfriend – it shouldn’t have mattered. You were my friend.

I guess honestly though, nothing was the same with us after J.D. What a complete waste. I had no idea you were starting to hold me in a different place in your heart than I was holding you. All that doesn’t matter now, does it?

I remember how you would drive at night on the wrong side of the road with no headlights. Only fourteen would find that exciting. Twenty-four finds that appalling, idiotic.

But we had fun. No one else drug me along into their schemes like you did.

What about breaking (root) beer bottles on Bloody Tombstone and running back to the truck holding hands? The three of us.

And when you took me to Fuel Pizza in the neighborhood where you grew up. And tried to show me how to play guitar – I still have a pick that was yours. What about the way you would spray Hugo Boss cologne on EVERYTIME you got out of the car? I could basically taste it in my mouth by the end of the day. And the way you brought me little frog gummies one time just because you saw them and knew I liked frogs. What about that graduation bear you gave me for my fifteenth birthday? I have no idea why you did that, but when I graduated, I put the little 2002 sticker on the hat like you said to. I guess you were still around then. On second thought, maybe not.

I miss you.

Are you getting that?

I guess at the time, with everything out on the table like it was, you and I didn’t have much room left. But now, if you were here now, wouldn’t we?

I know, nothing’s ever the same. “Adults” as we are now, I guess there would be less throwing bottles at giant gravestones and such.

But the music, and the writing, and the laughter, and the seeing through each other. Couldn’t we have that?

I need a friendship like the one we had. I never got another like that. I tried to hang out with people like you- but none of them took me in like you did. I was a fringe element I guess. You know – you know how people see me, you know how I let them. You didn’t put up with that, you didn’t let me play it off, sadness and the like. Of course, by then I understood how to get boys to want to spend time with me and misunderstood how to have them want to be friends with me.

I’ve looked for you – on the internet. Even used your middle name. Who could forget Barton? Couldn’t find you. No one else knows why I’d want to. No one else saw you. I even asked J.D., on Facebook. He never responded, even saw me downtown a few times and ignored me, or maybe didn’t remember me. I’m sure he’s had his share of blondes, and it was so long ago, probably insignificant to him. It was a nail in my coffin, but that’s another story.

Last I heard, you were working with your Dad in the town I work in now. I’m sure you’re not there anymore. A tire shop is completely unfitting for you.

You know, I live in the town you used to live. I went down your road several times, but couldn’t find your grandma’s house. I never thought about what it was like being raised by your grandparents back when we were hanging out. You danced around the parent topic pretty well, and I let you.  Possibly the only thing we danced around (except the armory that night).

Remember when we were rough housing in your room, I totally let you feel me up. God, what does a fourteen year old know about the dangers of wrestling with boys? I only grasped the smallest portion of my feminine potential then.

Going to church with you – telling me I had to wear a long dress. Riiiiggghhhhttt. Haha. You always said that word that way, drawing it out.

Going to Eastland with you and Carol. My party (who knows which one) you coming in saying “It’s not delivery, it’s Digornio!”. No one liked you that night. I don’t know why…I don’t know why people are so quick to dislike others.

I have that picture you mailed me of you as a kid and the Polaroid of us leaning against your car after going to play pool. Your car, complete with Chinese lettering. I have your dog tags and that necklace, ticket stub from that play you were in, and that damn perfume you convinced me to buy.

I think you just wanted to fit. Don’t we all? You fit with me. I wish you’d find me. I think this would all be easier if you were here.

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