It’s been a year.
An Entire Year Has Past Since We Met, Crossed Paths, Saved Eachothers Souls
It was a rainy Tuesday night. I just finished my Teacher Conferences and I didn’t want to drive home alone.
It had been ages since I had been young, finding a local pub, making connections.
I got in my Ex-Husband’s Truck and drove. I found myself at Lakeview Grille. An Establishment I had visited before, but never Solo.
I walked in, reminding myself, of who I once was.
The Bartender, Mary, extremely friendly. The Owner had remembered me from my few past visits. It was a bit Upscale for my taste, but the ambience and cold drink were good.
I’m a people watcher. I’m fascinated by life, why we exist, how a man and woman (or same gender) find eachother. *It’s the Russian within me. We seek romance with deep tragedy.
I look over at one of the many flat-screen televisions mounted above, and I see you.
One of my kind. (Thank you INXS).
Latino. Jet black hair, deep brown eyes, beautiful caramel skin, and that smile.
You smiled at me. I returned your smile. Then you were gone. Off with some blonde.
Oh well. On to the next one. Always my Motto.
I was unaware that you were apart of the Establishment, and little did I know, our paths would cross again.
A week later, same situation. This time you sit next to me. You introduce yourself as ‘Omar,’ you’re Saudi. And your Family is in the Oil Business.
So, I spoke in Arabic and you almost lost your entire Blue Moon to the mahogany bar top.
I said, ‘Try Again.’
You laughed that infamous laugh and told me your Truth.
But, in those moments of our beginning, you made it clear, you did not date White Women as I had a Boyfriend back in Colombia. *(Of course, you asked if he was a Drug Lord. And my epic reply: ‘Out of all the Colombians I’ve ever dated, not one has been a Narco.’ Your Response: ‘Sweet Jesus.’ A catchphrase I grew accustomed to. *The Blonde from before was just a friend. And you would soon know that my Relationship was wretched.
We were then set free.
Me, Corona Light
You, Blue Moon
Me, rapping Cypress Hill as you almost fell from your leather highback.
Your Blonde reappeared to pick you up as she snarled at me, I smiled and said Hi. You left with every intention of us becoming Best Friends. An upsoken legacy. Our Friendship lasting until your Death.
Today, Is your Death Anniversary.
It’s still unreal and sureal to me. How? Why? I’ll never forget how you were that week before. The last time I saw you, September 4. Our usual Sunday Night (Except when the Truck broke down). Something was wrong. I knew. We spoke every single day. When I was sick, then my Job went on Hiatus, you were there. Parties, Bands, Local Dives, Late Night Movies. You told me everything, your demons, pain. You knew I would always be your Best Friend. I met your Son (An occasion you kept from me for seven months). Why didn’t you ask me for help?
5 Days later, you’re gone. Forever. I cannot accept nor live with it.
As I lie here sick with Dysautonomia and Stress, I can hear your laugh. I am restricted from driving once again, but I have not visited one place that was ours since your Death. Lake Holiday, Casa Santiago, Millhurst, Legends, and most importantly, Lakeview Grille. When I went to our Jewel, people asked “where were you,” that was enough for me to never step foot on our grounds. Having to explain your Best Friend took his own life is something I never imagined as apart of my own suicide survival(s).