Ray

I learned an unfortunate truth about myself on July 19, 1995 - I’m a coward. Even today, years later. I’ve carried that guilt with me for my entire adult life. It’s defined who I am.

Today I’m meeting my old friend Ray for a quick lunch. We see each other every now and then. He’s struggling, as usual. He’s still not right.

“How’ve you been, Ray?”

“Doin’ good,” replies the eternal optimist, slurring his words just the slightest. “Doin’ good. How about you?”

I just nod, as if that explains anything. I look down at his hands, which are shaking a little. He reaches for the menu.

“What’s good here?” he inquires.

“Dunno. Never been.”

The conversation is awkward, which is tough because not too long ago we were the best of friends. We met in the 3rd grade when he moved here from Indiana. We hit it off immediately over our love of Michael Jordan and late 80’s rap. Our teachers had to separate our desks in school. We hung out constantly, with sleepovers most weekends. He even joined my family on one summer trip out west.

A lot of childhood friendships fade slowly as the kids grow older, going off to college, starting jobs, and starting families. That wasn’t the case for us. Our friendship suddenly flew off a cliff. It practically happened overnight.

Okay, it DID happen overnight.

It was all because of that one night back in ‘95. The night Ray was jumped.

The night I watched… and ran.

—

Let’s go back. It was a July night in 1995, in the suburbs of Chicago.

Ray lived just two streets away from me. He was an only child, the son of a UPS driver and nurse. I lived with my parents, older brother Jason, and younger sister Molly. My dad was a county prosecutor and my mom had various side businesses.

For a 15 year old, my life was generally good. I was a C student, and was a backup point guard on the JV basketball team. I didn’t have a ton of friends, but it didn’t matter - I had my best friend Ray.

My parents, of course, wished I was more like Jason. Perfect Jason. When he wasn’t tormenting his little brother, Jason was getting straight A’s and starring on just about every team there was. This all sounds so cliche, right? That old fashioned, all American boy who parents loved. Guy wanted to be him. Girls wanted him. Yeah yeah yeah, you get it.

I never saw the appeal. To me, Jason was just an ass.

No one else saw that side of him, of course. Even Ray thought my brother was the coolest.

Anyway… it was a hot summer night, and I called up Ray.

“Wanna walk over to the Promenade? We can flip through the CDs at Borders? Or grab some mozz sticks at Friday’s?”

“You bet, let’s do it. Meet me at the corner in 5 minutes?”

“I’ll be there.”

I hung up the phone and threw my shoes on. I was halfway out the door when Molly asked me a question. Something about narwhals. I forget the details. But it held me up a few minutes as I tried to answer her random questions about nothing important.

I made my way down the street. I could see Ray in the distance, standing at the stop sign under the street light. He had his headphones on, listening to his discman. Probably some NWA.

Then someone approached him. Not a casual stroll, not friendly. It was slow. Determined. Menacing.

The silhouette was familiar. Very familiar.

I couldn’t hear if the second guy said anything to Ray. Didn’t seem like it. He just walked up to my friend… and started hitting him.

Ray fell to the ground, trying to get into the fetal position and protect his head. At this point the guy was kicking him. I saw at least two kicks hit Ray’s head.

Ray didn’t even have the chance to scream for help. It’s weird, I don’t remember him saying or yelling anything. No grunting or moaning or crying. It was like an explosion in deep space - completely silent.

Well… silent other than the thuds of feet hitting Ray’s body.

And what did I do?

This is the moment I realized I was a true coward.

I ran. I turned on my heels and ran the other way as fast as I could.

I left my best friend to be brutally beaten. Maybe worse.

Like I said - I’m a coward.

—

I returned to the scene of the crime a few minutes later, acting like I was just running behind and stumbling upon my friend, beaten and bloodied.

Oh no! What happened?

God, I’m such a coward.

Ray was unconscious. I was too out of my element to even think about checking for a pulse. I just ran back home, hailing my mom. Within seconds she was on the phone with Ray’s mom, the nurse.

Then 9-1-1. An ambulance came. Cops and everything.

They whisked Ray off to the ER. My mom and I followed in her car. He went into surgery. We waited - for hours upon hours. She suggested we go home, but I refused.

I didn’t flip through a magazine. I didn’t talk to my mom. I barely looked up. I just sat there, staring at the floor.

What if Ray DIES? I could have stopped it. I could have jumped in.

We stayed there all night. Not talking. Me drowning in my own guilt. Mom unsure how to comfort me. Not realizing her son’s role in this mess.

Then, at some point the next morning, the attacker walked into the waiting room.

—

As I said, everyone loved my brother Jason. He was the golden boy, a kid destined for great things.

But I’d seen a different side of him over the years. A darker side. A side that honestly scared the hell out of me.

It’s cliche, but as a kid he’d torture and kill animals. It started with bugs, then small rodents. He liked to burn things. I’d never seen him get in a fight, but I’d seen him bully younger kids.

Somehow parents and teachers were completely blind to this side of him. He was so damned good at putting on the facade. And sometimes people see what they want to. They tell themselves he’s perfect. And then every encounter with him, regardless of what he says or does, just continues that narrative.

But I knew Jason was different. Something was off about him. He was a bit unhinged. Twisted.

When he was 14 or so he started taking karate classes. And as the oldest, my parents often trusted him to watch his younger siblings for short periods when they were out. I grew to HATE those times.

He called it “practicing”. NO. It was bullying. It was terrorizing, and beating, and taunting his younger brother, 3 years his junior and a good 50 pounds smaller. Any time I had a noticeable bruise, or drew blood, he just spun it as a funny little mishap. My parents bought that. No questions asked.

When he wasn’t beating me, he brought threats. He threatened to start rumors about me at school. He threatened to de-pants me in front of everyone. He threatened to leave drugs in my room and tell our parents.

He took my money. And anything else of value I had.

My brother, perfect in so many other eyes, was evil in mine.

So when I saw him beating and kicking Ray that night, I froze. I wasn’t about to stand up to Jason. I was going to get the hell out of there.

And as the years went by I kept quiet, not outing Jason as Ray’s attacker. Not out of loyalty to my brother. No, out of fear.

—

Ray got through surgery, but had some brain damage.

He’d completely blocked out his attack. That memory was completely gone. He doesn’t remember getting hit and falling down. Or getting kicked. And certainly doesn’t recall who attacked him.

Ray missed a few weeks of school. I visited him here and there, but he wasn’t the same guy. Even as he got back to school and his “normal” life, Ray was different. Quiet. Timid. And his brain just wasn’t as sharp as it was. He had trouble learning new things. Or holding onto short term information.

This sounds terrible, but Ray wasn’t really FUN anymore. He didn’t get jokes. You couldn’t just goof around with him. He was bland. Dull.

I hung out with him fairly often through high school, as a sense of obligation and guilt. Then I went off to college. Ray didn’t, of course. He still lives at home, working part time at a nursing home. He keeps himself busy by taking his camera out and taking pictures of nature and cool old buildings and stuff. Even with his shaky hands, he captures some beautiful photos.

13 years later I’m now working in sales at a window & door company. Just like I was a C student, I’m pretty average at my job. I have my own apartment, no girlfriend, a fairly sad social life.

And my boss is an asshole.

My boss is Jason.

—

I didn’t plan on working for my older brother. But as I got out of college, there wasn’t much available. I tried a few random jobs, and nothing stuck.

Jason, meanwhile, had started his own company. One night at family dinner, my mom suggested he hire me. Jason grinned. He saw a new opportunity to lord over me. I was put on the spot, and didn’t have a reason ready to object. I was stumped.

Five years later, I’m still here. Stuck in my rut. Hating my life.

Jason’s made my life just tolerable enough to keep me from getting desperate enough to leave. They pay’s better than what I’d get elsewhere. The benefits are solid. Flexible hours. But on the flipside, he bosses me around like I’m a toddler. He micromanages. He pokes fun at me. He puts me down in front of others.

I’m too big a coward to leave.

—

Sitting across the table from Ray now, I’m anxious… yet also excited.

“How’s the job?” he asks with a knowing smile.

“Ehh. We landed a big client last week… but I wasn’t the sales lead. Jason… yeah he’s really proud of that other guy.”

“Gotcha. Well, don’t worry so much about Jason.”

“Yeah… how are your folks?”

“Pretty good. Dad’s thinking of retiring soon.”

Ray reaches for his coffee, hand shaking the entire time. He spills a little, coffee now dribbling down his chin.

The small talk is killing me. I just want to get to the point of our meeting.

“So… do you have the pics?” I ask.

Ray smiles. A boyish smile I haven’t seen in years. I can’t help but smile in return.

He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a folder. He slides it across the table as if he’s a spy.

I’d been nervous his shaky hands wouldn’t produce good evidence. But I was wrong. The pictures are perfect. They capture exactly what we needed captured.

There are a dozen or so photos, from various angles and points in the evening. There’s a building - GlassTech, a competitor of Jason’s company. And there’s a man - Jason. And the photographic evidence is clear - Jason is setting the building on fire. He’s burning down his competition.

—

A few months back, I couldn’t hold my secret anymore. Over a couple drinks with Ray, I told him the truth. I’d seen him get jumped. I saw who did it. And I ran away like a goddamn coward.

Yes, my friend was hurt by my confession. I’d betrayed him. There were some tears, from both of us. We talked for hours. We hugged it out.

But he understood - the real villain here was Jason.

So we began to plan.

I knew Jason had been known to sabotage his competitors. He’d damaged property or started rumors. He even bragged about it to me.

He’d made “jokes” about burning down GlassTech. But I could tell he wasn’t joking. I thought back to his younger years, when he’d start little fires. I knew what he was capable of.

After I’d told Ray the truth, we started seeing more of each other. I told him about Jason’s comments about burning down GlassTech.

So yesterday when Jason got a little tipsy during happy hour and whispered to me that “tonight’s the night!”, I called up Ray.

He followed my brother from the bar. He stalked in the shadows as my brother torched the building. And he captured everything on film.

—

Now, at the diner, Ray and I smile. Our friendship may never be what it was when we were teens, but we’re mending the bridge.

Having a common enemy helps.

We’ll be taking the photos to the cops.

I may need to find a new job, but Ray will be avenged. Jason will get his.

Maybe I’m a little less of a coward than I thought.