A Memory

A Memory

           “Why do you keep talking to me?”

           “Because you let me in.”

           “There are others who would want to hear from you besides me.”

           “Do you think you’re so special that I only talk to you?”

           “So, I’m not special.”

           “I didn’t say that. You know how special you are to me.”

           “You mean were.”

           “No. I mean are. Nothing has changed that.”

           “You’ve got to be kidding. How can you say that? Something has definitely changed.”

           “Stop being your usual concrete sequential self. I told you that you were special to me. Take that and just be satisfied with it for a change.”

           “But why now? After all these years? I always wanted to talk to you. You could have come sooner.”

           “I was always here. Something in you changed to make you listen. I’m not asking why. I’m just glad we’re talking.”

           “This is just so weird. There are times all this makes me feel like I’m crazy.”

           “I always said you were on the unbalanced side.”

           “Don’t laugh at me! I’m serious. I’m just trying to figure this out.”

           “What’s to figure? We’re talking is all. What’s so unusual about that?”

           “Considering the fact you’ve been dead for 26 years, I’d say it’s more than a little unusual.”

           “Don’t you want to talk?”

           “Of course, I do! More than anything! I just want to know what’s happening is real, and not something that I’m making up just to make me feel good. You know how much it hurt to lose you. More than my parents, or my brothers, or anyone else in my life. It’s been decades and I still can’t stop thinking about you.”

           “And the night.”

           “That was even longer ago then when you died!”

           “And yet you can’t let it go.”

           “No. It meant something to me. I just wish I knew if it meant the same to you.”

           “Didn’t I tell you that you were special?”

           “That’s not the same thing! You told me you loved me! Those words have haunted me ever since. I know we were both drunk out of our heads, and it was our last night of rooming together, but you said those words. Stop laughing at me! It hurts.”

           “Bubs, you are such a romantic.”

           “And now you’re going to call me ‘Bubs.’”

           “That’s what I liked to call you back then. On that night.”

           “And you were Sport to me.”

           “I still am, just like you’re still Bubs.”

           “Did you really mean it? When you said it?”

           “You always brag about your memory. You know I was the one who said it first. I brought it up, not you. Knowing we weren’t going to room together any more hit me hard that night. Sure, it helped that we got loaded up on pitchers of beer first. It’s a miracle we made back to our room that night. I wanted to let you know what those months meant to me. What you meant to me. So, I told you.”

           “Say it again.”

           “I don’t know if it’s possible for one man to love another, but I love you.”

           “Those were the words I remember.”

           “Because those were the words that I said to you. Now tell me what you said.”

           “And I love you, too.”

           “See? We both know what happened.”

           “Did I dream what happened next?”

           “You mean the part where we reached across the space between our beds and held hands?”

           “It wasn’t a dream, then.”

           “No. It was very real.”

           “But there was nothing else, right?”

           “We both fell asleep holding onto each other’s hand, each in our own bed. The perfect finale.”

           “Tell me the truth…did you want more?”

           “That’s just like you not listening.”

           “Stop laughing. I need to know!”

           “I said it was the perfect finale. That means I was 100% satisfied. Obviously, you weren’t.”

           “Can you read my thoughts? I mean, if you’re really talking to me from wherever it is you are, does that mean you know everything?”

           “You’ve kind of changed the subject, but I can go with that. I know everything that is good, and that’s what I see. Whatever darkness there may be is shut out. Honestly, it’s wonderful.”

           “Do you know I’m gay? Did you know then?”

           “Of course, I know. It’s not something horrible that I can’t see now. There were times, back then, when I wondered, but it didn’t change anything for me. You were the guy I loved to spend time with on the golf course, at the movies, going to ball games, and everything else we did. You were the one I listened to most when I needed advice. You saved my relationship with Karen.”

           “And yet, she hated me.”

           “Jealousy. She thought you exercised too much control over me. And she probably thought you were trying to seduce me.”

           “This isn’t a joke.”

           “It kind of hurt you didn’t trust me enough to talk to me about it. You didn’t need to go through all the pain and loneliness, not to mention a disastrous marriage.”

           “Being out back then wasn’t easy. Also, being a gay teacher wouldn’t have helped my career any.”

           “You have to know I wanted to spend time with you, but Karen was so obsessive about it.”

           “It hurt when you had to pull away from me. We’d been friends since high school! I was in your wedding, and she got Vicki a job. I never did anything but encourage you to stay with her when things were rocky. Then you went and died so young, and I wasn’t asked to be a pallbearer or offer a eulogy.”

           “Honestly, I think she never fully recovered from her post-partum depression after Traci was born. It’s funny how I can know that, but I can’t remember any of the bad moments. All those memories are gone. The only things I see when I go to her are the happy times we shared.”

           “You don’t see the misery that happened since? I know from talking to your sisters and mom how she has never recovered. The few times I’ve run into her, she still starts to cry when she talks about you.”

           “That’s when I know I need to see her.”

           “How do you do that? Does she talk to you like this?”

           “No. For her, it’s a dream. I give her a dream to hold onto for a while.”

           “I dream about you, too.”

           “No comment.”

           “Sport, you need to know that I still love you. I can’t get through a day without thinking of you. And, yes, I am satisfied with the way that night ended. If it had been anything else, I might have lost you for good. One night doesn’t replace a lifetime.”

           “Or eternity.”