Aces and Spades

Trigger warning: mild violence, death, grief

Let's go for a walk. That is how I got here, in the cold, Chicago slush. My socks are completely soaked somehow, and my feet could chill a bottle of wine. Which makes me furious with these all-weather, water-resistant boots I bought. Let’s go for a walk. Who knew that statement would lead to the last activity we would share together. One simple walk, to clear my head, and a best friend that knows- knew- exactly what I needed, even when I was in denial of such. I will never be warmed by their smile again, smothered by their big bear hugs, or have to endure their terrible (they swear by it) coffee and banana frittatas. It was a literal “walk in the park.” Okay, it was a walk around the park. I have been telling all my friends to occasionally change their routines and become less predictable to those that may want to maim them.

Turns out, it would not have mattered in the end. Whether from an outsider or an insider, my best friend walks this world no more. They were stolen from me and stolen from the world! Carelessness and recklessness lead us to this point, the point of no return. Maybe selfishness too. I thought I considered me a better friend. Was I pushing them away? Was this meant to be a testament to our friendship? An unbeknown (to both of us) last-ditch effort to leave an eternal mark on my memory?

Let’s go for a walk. Something big is going to happen today, I can feel it. You will remember this day for life. Very. Funny. You always have to be right; you crazy, beautiful, selfish asshole. I will remember this day. It was cold. I will remember the way my snot crusted itself to my lip as I choked on my boogies and ugly cried. I’ll remember the way my tear ducts froze as the wind whipped my face like a jockey on a horse. I will remember the ice block dampening my jeans as I surrendered to gravity, while the slush and snow went against it to meet me in the middle. The look on your face will haunt my nightmares for the next fifty or so years. The numbness- that has nothing to do with the weather- is a paralytic to my heart.

I will also remember anger. The anger toward you. Anger toward them. Anger afforded to myself and the blind trust I gave to you. Anger at the fact that you are not here anymore. You cannot help me deal with this situation. Talk me down from this explosive panic attack that YOU paid prologue to. It was your fault I was out in the first place. I remember the anger in wondering if life was even worthy of me anymore. The guilt that followed that thought may very well be what is keeping me breathing now. Spite survival. I am making life prove it is worth my time. They say patience is a virtue, and for this situation it’s granted in aces and spades. I don’t want to “grab life by the horns.” I want to grab it by the tongue, rip it out, and smack it in the face.

What I will not remember is all the in-between events; what happened right before your death and up to the sirens? How did I get on this side of the road? Who called the police? Why is there a fire truck if there is no fire? Is that a rifle on the ground? No, on second glance it looks like a baton. Not patrol officers. Plainclothes mean special units. Was the patrol here? I thought I heard sirens. Have they talked to me? Why is the food truck driver shouting in Romanian? Cubs, Cubs, Cubs. Is it baseball season? Are we that close to Wrigley Field, or are they just wayward groupies? A glass cage that pushed my heart to my ankles. I don’t like glass floors. We were conquering fears. Wait, was that last week? We were in the park today. Field. Wrigley Field, yes. The park near baseball. Hotdogs. Pizza. Stale popcorn and sticky sidewalks.

Groups walking in the opposite direction. Drunken arguments over opposing teams and the resulting win. Children play-fighting; fathers, mothers, and brothers hollering for them to behave and get away from the road. Horns honking, drivers spouting expletives and offering unnecessary hand signals. Dog goes no-no on the snow-no and the owner left it there. Do I leave, do I stay? I just witnessed a crime. Or was it an accident? It was an accident that led to a crime. We were helping, I think. The car came through the window of the convenience store. Seizure. The driver had a seizure and hit my friend when the vehicle went through the storefront. I was making sure they didn’t swallow their tongue. I should have checked on you, my friend, but I reacted to what I saw first. You got thrown to the other side, and the truck was within my sight.

I will forever be sorry. I let you down. I am a terrible friend. You went to stop the looters taking advantage of the clerks distraction. There was a tick sound. Could have been a cocked gun, could have been the register. Not sure I was paying that much attention to what was happening behind me. The driver is fine, came to a minute later and thanked me for my help. There was a scuffle and I turned around to see you on the ground. Blood. There was blood. My clothes are stiff in spots, I am wearing you. Perhaps that is why I am in the snow, chilled to the bone in soggy socks; I came to wash the blood away. I wanted to let your soul rest by giving you back to the earth.

An officer told me no charges would be put on the driver, but the robbers were opportunists that will be charged with manslaughter and aggravated assault and battery.

You were right though, as it goes. Something big did happen that day. Even in death you know what I need. I didn’t leave the house for six months after your funeral, and it took me at least a year before I went anywhere near that part of the city. The officer that filled in the blanks came to check in on me so often that I would meet him at the door and demand he leave. I was so annoyed with his predictability that before I knew it, I was outside meeting him at the end of the end of the block. It’s been five years, and life has proven it is worth my time. I was broken, but I was rebuilt stronger. We walk to the café down the street on Wednesdays. Today is special though, this walk is down the aisle.

One story met its end while another story was beginning. “Come on”, he said as he met me at the bottom. “Let’s go for a walk.”