Have Fun

I read that unfortunate word, near the beginning of every email I’ve ever dreaded opening. Too late now, I found the little moon that sits underneath the padlock, to the left of the brightness slider I’ve turned all the way down. Too late now, I smiled at my mother who sat on the other end of the dining table, and thanked her for breakfast. I excused myself and tread quietly up the staircase to my room. 

Later, I’m meeting with an old friend from high school, so I looked for a clean t-shirt and my favorite pair of jeans. I stuck my leg through the pant hole, but chose the wrong one and lost my balance. I tripped and hit my head against the bed frame. I lay on the floor, grasping where the wood had struck. Luckily, it landed above the hairline. I groaned and massaged the small bump that began to form, and thought I should rest in bed for just a while.

I tossed my jeans aside and crawled underneath the covers. Above me, a little astronaut spun round and round in his tiny rocket ship--I’d forgotten to turn off my ceiling fan. I don’t know why I bothered switching it on in the first place. On summer days, it spins furiously but can never seem to move any air. 

I felt a lump forming in my throat, and I wondered if I should try and make myself cry. It feels better after you cry, because your brain releases endorphins to ease the pain. But then my eyes would get all red and puffy--I’d be too embarrassed to see my friend. One thing I’m proud of is that people know me as someone who never flakes. I admit I can be a bit of a clutz and sometimes a chronic-late-person, but no--I never flake.

I kicked off the covers and put my pants on properly this time. I trotted down the stairs and gave my mom a hug, telling her I’d probably be back before dinner, but--just in case--to not wait up on me. Chris and I go way back, and when you’re with him the night could take you anywhere. I grabbed my car keys, hopped into the driver’s seat, and backed out to the edge of our driveway. 

Oh, but I almost forgot. I put the gear in park and looked up the directions to the restaurant Chris and I were meeting at. I also opened up my notification center--it’s an awful form of muscle memory. I didn’t see because I switched my phone to Do Not Disturb, but Chris texted 10 minutes ago. Oh, it seems he’s canceled on me. He had finals last night and the after party with his classmates took too much out of him. That’s okay. He promised we’d definitely meet up before his break was over. 

I put the gear in drive. 10 feet later, I was back in the garage.

“Back so soon?” My mother asked me as I stepped into the kitchen. I planned on sulking in bed the rest of the day, but now it’d be too embarrassing.  

“I forgot to shower! I’m heading out again right after.” I trotted back up the stairs as if in a great big hurry. 

Naked again, I flipped on the water, but kept the lights off. As the heater finally started doing its job, I could feel the goosebumps raised all over my arms and forearms fade and recede. I fell into a crouch and leaned against the tile. Showering in the dark, my body couldn’t tell them apart, as the tears grew slowly then uncontrollably stronger.

I woke up this morning and promised myself I'd live today with a smile. But I think it's too late now.

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I slicked my hair. I decided to dress up the t-shirt and jeans with Dad’s decades-old leather blouson and my nice pair of chucks--black ones that don’t stain easy. My mother stood in the kitchen as I hurriedly went to grab my keys.

“Forget anything else this time?” She had that face moms make. I couldn’t tell if she had noticed the jacket, or the under eyes I couldn’t compress, no matter how coldly I twisted the shower handle.

“Oh no, Chris said we’d probably be out late tonight, so I thought I’d grab something warm for later. Oh yeah! And I guess that means I probably won’t make it home for dinner either. Sorry!”

I smiled at Mom. I pleaded with the hazel eyes people always said looked just like hers, and the dimples she’d pinch and poke while nuzzling our noses when I was little. 

She smiled back. “Alex, have fun today, okay?”

“I will.”

I hugged Mom. I told her I’d stay for dinner next time. 

----------

I made it past the driveway. This time, I didn’t bother with directions and silenced my phone properly. But I did put on the radio. Lucky me--I love T-Swift. I swerved onto the on-ramp, singing and nodding along, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel. I checked the time on the dash. I smiled. It wasn’t even noon yet. I still had the entire day to turn things around.

“ 'Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play

And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate

Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, sha--”

My tires screeched as I hit the brakes, too late. 

The bump from earlier began to swell, and I clutched my neck reeling from the whiplash. Fucking hell. I pulled over to the shoulder. A big dude in paint-crusted jeans and work boots hopped out of the pick-up in front of me. He looked fucking pissed. I rolled down my window.

“Hey, asshole.”

---------

Two hours later, I sat alone at a diner. The driver I rear-ended had taken my insurance and we waited for a cop to come file an accident report. It was my fault.

I stared at the sprinkles layered on the doughnut in front of me, at the icing smeared on the edges of the white saucer. It was the pink kind that Homer likes, just one bite taken out of the corner. I hate sweet things.

I walked in earlier after seeing a tacky billboard off the freeway. I walked up to the cashier and smiled, but still shaken. I ordered a coffee and pulled out my credit card, but she pointed to the “$5 minimum” scrawled with Sharpie and taped against the chip reader. I didn’t have enough cash, so I embarrassedly glanced at the display counter and ordered the first thing I saw.

I brought down a book I keep stuffed in my glove box. It was a paperback of Around the World in Eighty Days, a gift from Mr. Cadieux. Mr. Cadieux used to teach history and counseled IB at my high school--he gave me his personal copy when I graduated. I’d finished the book probably a half-dozen times, but I still liked to flip to a random page and find myself suddenly floating alongside Mr. Fogg on one of his adventures. It’s like doing that thing where you spin around a globe and then stop it with the arbitrary point of a finger. 

I fingered over the edge of the worn cover, turning to the page where Mr. Cadieux had signed his note. Mr. Cadieux was already somewhere in his seventies while I was a student. His frame was small, but sparkling blue eyes and a mischievous smile betrayed youthfulness to a character that stood tall and kind.

To a life of the unexpected, where the world is but a backdrop to the pursuit of love--our one true constant and calling. Congratulations, my dear Andrew. —Mr. Cadieux

Mr. Cadieux passed away two years after he wrote those words to me. But reading them again, I can hear his dry chuckle. I can smell the olive salad he always packed for lunch and his coffee-stained breath. The day of the ceremony was beautiful, sunny. I’m grateful we left each other on a pleasant day.

My mug clanged emptily. I stared out the window at the cars passing by on the highway. I could also make out the transparent glare of my reflection. A smile betraying not playful mischief, but a true deception.

For some reason, I left the bitchy waitress behind two crumpled up ones. I tucked them underneath the paperback, next to the doughnut.

----------

I got back on the road. I wasn’t sure if the faint rattles I heard every time I went above seventy were from my imagination or the accident--hidden frame damage they call it. I didn’t know where I was going. So I just took the familiar turns that led to my neighborhood. There’s not much to do in these kinds of suburbs, so I decided to drive up to the lookout by the Lakewood dam. I stopped by a gas station to grab a six-pack. It was the one next to the hardware store. 

I drove past my house and old high school, another fifteen minutes down a narrow beaten road where I parked off to the side under the surrounding trees. I went the rest of the way on foot, until I reached a chain-linked fence meant to keep trespassers out. It’s a shortcut to my favorite spot. Not a lot of people know about it.

I wrapped the six-pack in my blouson and tucked it safely in my backpack, then I tossed it over the fence. Usually I’d come with other people, and we’d have one person hop first and toss the beers over to them. But this would do--I hoped. I followed shortly after and put the jacket back on--it was already late afternoon and the air had started to get chilly.

I started to feel excited. It’d been years since I’d come out to the lookout. The last time was the winter break after I became a college freshman. I promise the view’s great, but even the walk’s pretty special. In the mornings and again in the late afternoon, the sunlight filters through the treeline at the perfect angle, saturating the foliage and forest floor like a scene straight out of Bambi.

I walked for another 15 minutes or so. I knew I was getting close because the ground had started to slope up--the lookout sits on this awesome cliffside overlooking the dam. And there it was. The sun, perched over the skyline, getting ready for its descent. It shined perfectly through the wisping leaves and branches of our willow tree. I approached the weeping giant, smiling softly to myself as I lay my fingers across the bark of its sturdy trunk--it had stayed green and healthy all this time.

I reached into my backpack and pulled out a mat. I flung it open and laid it beside the willow, then sat down and cracked open my first can. It tasted so refreshing I swigged it down in just a few greedy gulps, and reached for a second. I worked on the third more slowly.

My belly warmed and my spirits raised, I leaned back against the trunk to appreciate the view. The sun reached over the mountaintops, and flooded all throughout the valley and the trees hundreds of feet beneath me. For the last time today, its rays glimmered across the dam’s vast pools, turning them golden like the gush of ale sprung forth from an opened barrel. Here, I was all alone. And so I stood up and bellowed and yelled to the valley, laughing as I swigged the third can and reached for the fourth. Oh how’d I love to dive and bathe in those golden pools! I could swig, gulp, and inhale beer and I would never reach the bottom of my drink. I chucked the crumpled aluminum of the fifth and sixth into the bushes behind me. I stood at the cliff’s edge.

But then the sun set, and the water seemed less inviting.

The moon shone only weakly, the golden pools turned a pale silver. And here I was, all alone. I leaned my side against the tree. I reached my hand towards the rough, familiar etchings on the bark. It was our tree. I traced the shape, the letters--two for each of us.

Alex Young, Chris Miller, Anna Quynh. 

And so it read: AY, CM, & AQ.

A heart was for lovers, so we put a star around all of our initials instead. A star to wish on in our dreams. All over the tree, we inscribed the places we’d go, the people we’d become, the promises we’d keep. 

I know why Chris couldn’t make it out today. Today is the third of December. The fourth, third of December since Anna went away. He’d rather forget her. I don’t blame him. Because what good is someone who can’t keep their promises? 

But still, isn’t it sad? The three of us grew up together. Went to elementary, middle, and high school together. Went on sleepovers together. Snuck out of backdoors together. Sipped our first beers together. Watched the sun set only for it to rise again together. Isn’t it sad to forget someone you grew up with?

It’s sad. It’s sad. It's sad. It’s sad, it’s so sad. But it’s more painful to remember.

I reached into my backpack again. I grasped the crooked curve of the wooden handle. I stared at the glint of the bit. I swung the sharpened head of the ax. Furiously, I swung. I hacked vehemently. I ripped and I tore and I tried to murder. 

But the stupid fucking axe I bought was too small. I kicked the stupid tree and I pounded at it with my fists. I stubbed my toe and cried and begged, but even then it wouldn’t come down. I dropped the ax. Then I picked it up again and flung it at a bush. And I cried. I fell to my knees and cried.

“Bro, what the fuck are you doing here?”

The bright glare from a flashlight hit my eyes. Shit! I thought it must’ve been the dam security. But it was Chris. What was Chris doing here?

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I said, as I tried wiping away my tears.

“Seriously man, are you okay? Your mom texted, asking me to make sure you were doing okay. I tried messaging you and calling you, but you didn’t pick up. I figured something was up. Today is…you know.”

Chris calmed down a bit, and so did I. I started to piece together how he found me. 

“No yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Are you sure? I literally saw you trying to chop down the wishing tree just now. You were acting all crazy, and the only reason I called out to you was because I finally saw you put down the damn ax.”

I gulped. How long was this asshole standing there for?

“Bro I just had too much to drink. I went through a six-pack and lost my temper a bit.”

Chris looked at me long and hard. We’ve known each other forever--he could tell I was mostly telling the truth.

“Alright, you’re good now? Can I come over and sit?”

I nodded. Chris walked up slowly and sat down next to me. He sighed and gave me a look, but ultimately decided to say nothing. We just sat down and looked up at the moon. I wish I could’ve offered him a beer.

Chris eventually spoke first. “It’s been four years, hasn’t it.” I chuckled. I wanted to say how cliché that sounded, but just nodded instead.

Chris waited for me to say something, but could tell I was going to keep my mouth shut and he shrugged it off. 

He continued. “Hey, um, I’m sorry I canceled on you today. The truth was, I wasn’t really hungover that bad. I just…I’m sorry.” He stared at my knuckles, cut up and starting to bruise. “You’re still pretty angry about what happened, aren’t you?”

I just nodded again. But he was right. I was furious. I’ve been furious. How come I never showed it?

“Yeah, I get that. I feel that way too, sometimes. But you know, sometimes you’ve also gotta forgive? Maybe I don’t have the right to say that--I don’t know. The three of us were always close, but…you and Anna…we could all tell. I’m sure for you, it hurt even more. And like, I had my heart ripped out. But I’m sure for you…it hurt even more.”

Chris paused again. The moonlight caught his eyes, his seriousness.

“You loved her, didn’t you?”

I let out a dry laugh. “Why bring that up now?”

“Don’t you think it’s a shame you never told her?”

I tried to scoff him off again, but this asshole. He knew how to hit home. As I choked on the laugh and the sobs followed, Chris put his arm around me. My best friend. 

“I loved her. But it’s too late now. I loved her. I loved her and I never told her. I cared about her more than anything and I never told her. But now it’s too late. And because of that…maybe if I’d…maybe she wouldn’t have…but now…”

I couldn’t finish any of my sentences. Chris didn’t force me to. He only asked if that’s what I really thought. I couldn’t respond.

“It’s not too late. It’s not too late, man. If you tell her right now, I’m sure she’ll hear. I’m sure Anna would be so happy. Come on, tell her.”

And so I looked at Chris, then to the valley, the silvery water, the surrounding mountains, and the moon and the stars above. He drove me home. But before we left, we etched a new promise onto the wishing tree. I didn’t know why she had to go, but I forgave Anna. I told her I loved her. And I promised that’s how it would always stay.