Wednesday, April 2, 2008

Day 2, Part II of II

Bluish gray clouds pile up in the sky. Thin rays of sunshine sneak through and spot the pavement outside of Moulin Rouge. We used to walk here every Saturday afternoon, Brian and I, and talk about each other’s concerns and dreams. He was not close to Justin Tang however, my only other close friend from school. They had certain discrepancies in beliefs.

“He used to be so happy Brock; you guys were such good friends in high school,” Jennifer sips on her milky, sugary in-house coffee. I nod, not sure if she noticed but she continues nevertheless.

“Lately, he’s become despondent.”

“Oh, what does that mean?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Withdrawn, he was scared of something. I think it was the drugs, Brian had started smoking meth, and he might have been in trouble with the dealers.” She swallows hard, holding back the shame of the affiliation.

“I am sorry, Jen. I really am.”

Already half gone, I take another large gulp of the black stimulant. She looks down at her nails, looking a little perplexed as if not sure if she wanted to utter her next thought. And I break the silence,

“He was a good man. I will always remember him that way.”

“He said you knew what he’s scared of, that you know about “them”. Said I’d think he’s crazy if he told me.” Her cerulean eyes all of sudden burned with intensity. My left eye sensed her gaze.

“What?” She thinks I have something to do with Brian’s death. Somewhere in the room the echo laughter commenced again, a distinctly female tone, but it is also likely I have become delirious.

“Jen…” With a trembling hand, I manage to kill the remaining coffee. A waitress walks by and takes the empty cup casually, without any eye contact. Jennifer waits for me to continue.

“Yes I was a bad influence, a messed up kid, but never have I ever intentionally hurt Brian in anyway. He was someone I could count on and I tried hard to do the same in return.” It doesn’t matter if she perceives my conviction, the truth backs my words.

“Brock, listen to me. I need to know who Brian feared. I want them dead, god damn it all…” The tears have dried; her voice now radiates iron determination.

“Jen, this is difficult,” Choosing my next words very carefully, “Brian and I, before I left, had seen things… “

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