My friend who really isn’t my friend anymore called me for the first time in months and I wanted to breath fire through the decaying phone line, but I stood gently still. He told me how he misses my dad but didn’t ask about the grief. I think he’s afraid of the answer. I used to be much angrier at the ignorance but then I realized the definition of that word and how I can never change it. I don’t care like how I used to. I don’t need any part of your apology.

I can paint a scene like it was yesterday: fast cars that smell too strong of gasoline- the scent piercing my nostrils as my eyes dilate. I dare the fresh pavement to set fire as we race the streetlight. The town abides to my command like always. We spin in every direction and the walls of the car breath heavy from exhaustion- my hands choke the steering wheel as the tires echoed a beautiful crescendo throughout the town. And act of testing how semi permanent the damage could be and trying to hold it all together at the same time. I think you actually cared for a second. Tom crawled out of the back seat holding his lip. A bright stream flowing down his chin and over his knuckles- he spat at the ground and swore at me. I always thought he looked so good in red.

We made three plans to leave town and didn’t go through with any of them. Now you live in a small apartment a few towns over. You promise us that your life is meaningful. Swear it’s what you want. Fill your words with long brags that trail in the wind- turns into something that looks like a tornado. Tom and I are no longer part of the storm. We put our umbrellas away and stopped covering from the rain. Tom told me the other day that he would have stayed best friends with you, if you had tried. Said he wasn’t mad at you for twisting the knife because he was so used to bleeding. I still wonder if it stings- I guess I don’t have the heart to ask him.

I think pairs of three never stick because one falls behind. It gets trapped in the mud while the other two move in different directions- and before you know it, there’s an eerie silence. And I wonder if anyone can pinpoint the last moment they spent with a friend before it became finality. When all the neighborhood kids put their bikes away for good. The dust on the streets corroded. The streetlight stopped working. The baseball field overgrew with weeds that choked the chain link fence. I don’t miss it how I once did, and that’s okay too.

Tom still prays for you, you know. Says he hopes you raise a good kid. Hopes you let go of the substances as quickly as you let go of friendship. I fucking felt that sting for him- we all did. We’ll feel better in a few years, I fucking promise. And even if Tom is lying- even if he curses your namesake- even if they rebuild the old baseball field one day, remember that you once had good friends. They were good to you. They were all so fucking good. Let that distance grow until it becomes unrecognizable. AMT