Filed under: Blog
What a weird night. This guy who I hadn’t seen since I was 17 was at the bar, his brother died this weekend.
His friend, our friend, had found me at the bar. I was watching the game and was watching people as was my spring ritual. I said, “Hey, was that Benny I saw?” The friend said it was. Said his brother had died and a lot of the old gang was in town. I said, “oh man, well, he wouldn’t remember me anyway.” And the friend said, “I bet you a dollar he would.”
He had gained a lot of weight. I guess we all have. But I could still tell him by his eyes. Eyes that were almost predatory. Eyes you didn’t trust then, and certainly, after many years’ experience since, you didn’t trust now. But he hugged me. And I bought him a shot. We toasted to his brother. He hugged me again. I asked him where he was living now. He said down south. He said he rarely makes it back. He just came back to empty his brother’s room.
He hugged me again.
I said that it is so stupid that we all only get together when someone is gone. I said that Greg should be here with us, he should be doing these shots with us. He said he could cry or he could celebrate the company and he felt like it was both. He hugged me again.
To be completely honest, I don’t remember his little brother. I don’t remember Greg. I try to search my brain, but nothing comes up. Isn’t weird that one person in a group has such an impact on your life and, yet, a similarly situated person’s life is just an Etch-a-Sketch that you spend some time on for while and then is shaken, and lost completely?
We did another shot to Greg and ask if he was doing well. He said he had a good life.
He looked at me and said that it was stupid that I bet that dollar. He could never forget me. I had encouraged him to be what he is today. He pulled the dollar out of our friend’s hand and he signed it. He said that I was a real asshole and never let up. He hugged me again.
And that’s the thing that got me thinking tonight. How could I have been an inspiration when I was just a kid? What the fuck did I know about anything at 17? All I remember about being 17 was being lonely. I was a lonely child and I am a lonely adult and it seems completely unfathomable that I inspired anyone to be anything.
If I was so impactful, why am I still alone? Why did no one say, “this person changed my life in so many good ways, I should keep them around forever?”
We fought about who should buy the next shot. We were both doing do well. We did that thing people do where they say, “no, no. I insist.” He hugged me again. I whispered, “Man, I am so sorry about your loss.” He said, “don’t’ worry about it.”
He hugged me again.
I snuck out some time soon after. And it’s weird to think that something so devastating can happen to a person and I was so selfish.
All I could think was that the last time someone had hugged me, touched me in any way, platonic or predatory or otherwise, was more than a year prior. My uncle had hugged me after some misunderstanding, barely even worth the thought today. Nothing even approaching death.
Yet, here it is. Someone’s sibling had died, was gone forever, and it took everything I had not to think, “I can’t remember when this has happened last.” Was there some part of me that continued to say nice things, continued to buy shots, just to feel the closeness of human connection?
I honestly cannot say if Benny’s predatory eyes were just a sad, hungry reflection of my own.