by Michael Cooper

Created on: September 05, 2008   Last Updated: December 13, 2011

Regret

It was seven pm on thursday of last week when Carlos came over and said, "Are you ready for this?" Then he shook my soul to tears. I didn't want to cry. Men can't cry, no matter what. Never in the thirteen years of our friendship had either of us cried in the other's presence. It's not what Lee did, ever. I'm sure he was watching, then, after Carlos left as my eyes began to tear up, flying free as my head shook in denial.

I hugged my girlfriend when she got home, and I told her. She squeezed me involuntarily and began to sob. I never saw her face. We stood there grasping for comfort for a ten minutes or so until we'd calmed down. My father cried. My mother, brothers, sisters cried.
The beach was silent. The mosquitoes seemed to leave me be, having compassion just this once. The sun had long faded and my memories long begun playing. Lee had always remarked how the beach was overrated, and I'd never really bought that. Sitting there a week ago, looking to the endless black for comfort, I almost believed him. There was nothing there for me. Maybe that's why we'd always skateboarded instead of taken up surfing.
I stand here alone, now. My first puff of smoke escapes my lungs, floods out of my mouth. It tastes as I feel. It's an evil I bring onto myself, and thus my destiny seems sprawled before me. Mortality at its most blunt, standing in front of the stone. Everyone has long since gone, even his mother. My mother, in a sense. His stepfather, and my friend. His real father and my uncle figure. My second family.
My suit, black and white, hangs heavy and hot on my back. The humidity is gathering hard on my every surface. My hair drips onto the ground. The only dry places on my body are my eyes. They've shed all the tears they can, and they will not allow any more. 'No,' they say. 'You will not cry here. If you must, you will cry later when all is said and done.' My eyes close patiently, waiting for my penance to be over. Inside I was a swirling current of guilt and hate. Had I been in the car he would have slowed the hell down. Had I gone with him and Amelia I'd have been driving while they made out in the back seat. They wouldn't have tried to change lanes going ninety miles an hour in heavy traffic. They wouldn't be . . .
I take another puff. It's like trying to get through the first beer of your life just so you can start feeling like an adult. It's painful, a cough every step of the way. I've never smoked before, not once. I feel as if I deserve it, though.

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