Friends

A short story based on a friend of mine during college (alas, just no longer).

Dusk was upon us. The city streets cleared of people. Cars and buses honk at each other in the midst of a gridlock. Drivers pound their horns on the wheel, causing one another to join the lousy quartet crying toddlers. Hiding under a bus stop cover I sat on the public seats waiting for the late bus. My body is paralyzed by the soft classical music lightly drumming my ears. One arm hangs loosely behind me touching the transparent shield screening my crooking neck. My drowsy eyes doze off, but alive to keep my sight on any muggers laying low. The chimney smoke of cigarettes pollutes my lungs. I cough a bit and I receive the disgusted eyes of peer-pressured youths looking suave and smooth who smoked. They were in front of a couple of girls holding hands and echoing giggles of the boys' half-hearted attempt to impress. With this traffic, the bus I assume is to take another fifteen minutes. But hearing the same fifteen songs everyday I imagine one long, thin, flat piece of wood in my head. You may say I’m starting to hallucinate. I see wooden boards with wheels on the roads with its own lights, exhaust pipes and horn honking.

            “Even if we part ways once we graduate, we will inevitably catch each other again in the near future. You get me?”

I remember those words clearly, as if he was right next to me. I wonder what my friend’s up to.

            “I say so.” I replied.

            “Now if we had the success, we’d be living a good life. Kicking a*s and taking names. You get me?”

Those last three lines wasis his catchphrase. It means a lot. We first met in the arcade. We butted heads to see who is the greatest Street Fighter II player. Somehow our skills were matched, the majority of our games were tied. The rest was history. We were stuck like peanut butter and jelly so they say.

            “I say so.”

            “Now when someone’s trying to talk to you, you would at least reply back and give me a hug. You get me?”

            “I say so.”

In an instant, my body catapults off the seat, face first into the cold, gum-licking concrete. My nose flattened, swearing from a dam break of blood coming from vein up my nostrils. A burst of laughter replaces my classical jam as I unplug my earbuds and enter into the real world. Standing tall above me, wearing a similar fashion of dark trousers, a shirt with a hoodie,. I recognize that shady, five o’clock shadow of a chin.

            “Buddy, glad to see you again!” I finally replied.

            “Guy! My best friend!”

I returned to my feet and proceeded to hug Buddy. A big deep one, and we received a thumbs-up from a distant two-man couple in the distance.

            “What have you been up to? It’s been what? Five years?” while trying to do the math.

            “Oh you know. Kicking a*s and taking names. You get me?” He said so proudly. The smell of cheese wafts from the apartment complexes above us.

Last I recalled, he took that business degree and applied to the top of the world. Too busy to catch up with lowly guys like me and our small group of buddies. From word of mouth, he received what is rightfully his. A beautiful and compatible fiance, a promotion to CEO, meeting famous people. Just thinking about it makes me envious. I hide my envious expression with a hand, faking a cough.

            “But enough about me. I’m sure you’ve done some amazing stuff too.” He slaps my back hard.

            “Not really. I’m just living my life. Wake up, eat, go to work, eat again, go home, socialize. The usual.”

Buddy pauses and gives me a disappointed stare.

            “You haven’t changed at all.” He jabs my personal space with his finger and wags it at my pupils. Out his mouth spills laughter, overflowing in flying spirits. “What do you do on the weekends then? You get me?”

            “Being a weekly columnist.” I slant my back and take a deep breath.

Buddy's eyebrows become supported by interest and curiosity.

            “Well. Since we’re here, why don’t we get together?” He puts his cold hand on my shoulder. “Tell me where you feel like going. But of course, you can depend on me as I am a fine connoisseur.” He looks around for inspiration. “You know what, we should get a drink! It a nice night for drinks. What do you like?”

            “Not since my last birthday.” I joked. I haven’t had a drink in years’ probably the night before we graduated. Although i haven’t the slightest idea what it tasted like.

His hand grabs at my ear and pulls me over. My yelps of pain draws the eyes of everyone around us with wonders and questions whizzing in their minds.

            “C’mon you need a drink.” He says loudly.

I try to appease him; speaking in denial, anger, bargaining, depression and finally acceptance. Will he let go? Not until we reach the nearest bar with not-so-cheap liquors. At least he’s paying. I’m saving my revenue for a new game console.

The bar we finally stumble into is a loud place with frizzling lights, blasting music, and the smells of hangover vomit which exerts a stealthy smell that only the sober could sense. The drunkards belched out a heck of a competition inside. The barkeeps use earplugs to cope with the inconvenient noise battering their brains.

After thirty minutes in this noisy establishment, I’m only on my second beer, while Buddy has  just consumed his eighth. Haven’t been here for a while. For a very good reason. Buddy told me about his everyday life coming to bars like this one and would comes in with his fiance too and treat everyone to drinks.

            “A good drink of alcohol. That’s how you spice life.”

            “Yes, the cause of, and solution to life’s problems.” I jested.

Drunken laughter bellows in my face.

            “So. You got a special someone yet?”

I feign a satisfied sigh and slump backwards.

            “Oi, oi. So have you and her have mmmmmmmmmph! You get me?” As he hummed the last part, he joins his fingers together and makes a provocative cheeky smile.

            “No we haven’t reached that mmmmmmmmmph yet.” I mimicked him his fingers and we laugh childishly. Some drinkers behind me chuckle at our nonsense.

            “C’mon. I know your like a magazine. Short and full of lies.”

I confess my attraction to one person. This woman in the same branch as me. Isabelle I think her name is. Transferred from another branch. We met purely by coincidence, courtesy of my boss’ willingness to cover up my past blunders.

            “Well, what about you? Are ya’ goin’ tell me about your glorious love life?” The alcohol finally reached my air-filled head.

            “Hey, I’m proud of you. You’re going to reach the next base right?”

            “Hey, hey. Don’t change the subject. I spilled mine, you spill the rest.”

He plays the silent treatment.

            “No wait, I think I get it. Am I right, or am I right?”

Buddy takes a deep sigh. Whirls his sparkling drink with his spoon

            “Believe it or not. Yes, you’re right, She’s not my type.”

I finish my glass. “Whatdya’ mean Buddy?”

            “Guy. Listen. We called it off, like a year ago. She had her eyes on another guy, I knew about it, and I publicly humiliated her.”

I pick up my phone and search through the newsfeed. There it is, in big, bold, Times New Roman font:

“Nametaker's fiance found cheating!”

            “He worked for a rival company too.”

            “I’m sorry to here.” I call for another round, with anticipation in mind. “At least your job the promotion is secure. Right?”

He remains quiet. Dark thoughts swimming in his eyes that the alcohol has not yet managed to overtake. The whirlpool in his drink spins stronger and thicker.

            “Do not get me started about that.”

            “What happened?” I can’t help start anyway.

            “It went like this…”

He tells me everything. I take small swigs as he to rants on about the miseries that plague him. What happened that day, an article circulated online about disclosed unethical secrets. Buddy had to take the fall, ‘for the sake of the company’. It was easy for them. Make him the goat for the public to blame. His eyes burn a brick-red blaze. Just like his love life before, his success burned and razed to ashes. All because of one article. He remembers the name of the writer: Dustin Prince. Well written, researched and spoken with the spirit of justice, he lead to the tragedy and fall of Buddy.

            “Was the title:

“Totally utterly unacceptable!”

“...that was the article right?” I asked.

He nods melancholically.

            “I’m sorry for your loss.” I replied, wiping away the fingerprints on my glass with unease. I’m still counting my fingers with sharp accuracy thankfully. Buddy’s head bobs in rhythm to the musical background.

“I mean it’s fine. This Prince guy was right on the money. I’m glad he revealed a little something. My boss was an a*s to begin with. I’m glad the unethical practices were revealed.” His words are so filled with malice he spits all over the table and myself.

            “So. What’s the plan from here on out?”

            “For now, I’m under my parents’ roof and looking for another job, hopefully, get myself up onto my feet.”

            “I know several people. Let me hook you up on a couple of contacts.”

            “You don’ hav’ to.”

            “Hey. It’s what friends do.”

The hour grows late. We take the boot of a bigger customer and come out with bruises. At least we got drinks for free. Leaving, we collapsed at the wall as I called for an Uber.

            “You’re Dustin Prince arnt' ya'?”

My mouth bloats up with a gasp.

“I recognize that honest language where I see one.”

I gulped and my lips sink in the middle.

            “I forgive you.” When he said that, my heart calms down returning to normal pulse rate. “And I love you.” He gave me a bear hug, squishing my ribs, pinching my lungs, and squeezing my heart. My heart beats rapidly fast to find its own personal space. I want him to release but his chest is suffocating me.

The Uber taxi comes and before the door could even open, the driver gives the both of us a disgusted look.

            “Okay, all right. Let’s go.”

In our drunken state, we splattered ourselves over the leather seats. After minutes speaking in a foreign drunk language, the driver finally has the destination. Buddy’s place is not too far. However, the line he would walk at this point is too slow and jagged to even categorize as one. Our ride was made even longer with traffic, daredevil jaywalkers and frightened roadkills. Otherwise the entire ride was much shorter than perceived. Buddy’s house was in the middle of the suburban environment. Crickets chime a calming choir inside the shrubbery. The house before us is a quiet two-story home, small to accommodate a doting couple. It’s better than the apartment block I live in back in city. Buddy and I performed one more hug until he feels the weight return to his head and start taking straighter steps back home.

            “Hey before you go.” I caught his attention one more time. He blindly turns around with his aimless eye. “Could we meet up on Skype. Or Facetime at least? You get me?”

            He returns a smile to me. “Of course.”

I offer him the back of my hand, with a swaying farewell. The driver heads out, burning rubber and making deep drifts. As the vehicle sallies forth I watch my friend shrink into the distance. For the first time in a while, I shrug up a smile, hidden under the shadows of the window top.

            “Nice guy you got there.” The bored driver spoke.

            “I’m glad we’re buds.”