Don’t you forget about me
“I could KILL you right now!” I shouted incredulously over the music as I swiveled off my red barstool and beelined for the bathroom.
Jade’s liquored up confession torpedoed my broken heart into my spine. My handsome yet emotionally stunted ex-boyfriend Tommy had been flirting with my drop dead gorgeous yet commitment phobic best friend Jade for several weeks after our messy breakup.
As I dramatically yanked open the thick bathroom door, I narrowly missed cracking my skull in the process. I stumbled into the bathroom, turned the lock, and exhaled. The three PBR Tallboys and two Jaeger shots had finally hijacked my bloodstream, and now my best friend had hijacked my trust. I rested my perspiring forehead against the cool steel of the vibrating door and listened to Billy Idol wail.
In the midnight hour
She cried more, more, more!
With a rebel yell
More, more, more!
It was 80’s Night at The Model – a cherished gritty dive bar that had survived gentrification like a cockroach in the increasingly sanitized Boston nightlife scene. Jade and I had been established regulars at The Model for years. All the bartenders were friends and we playfully flirted with the door guys, Tony and Jimbo. Tonight, the place was crammed with college kids, middle aged punks, metalheads and hipsters. And at the bar, bathed in purple light and nursing a gin and tonic, waited my bewildered friend.
After Jade had let it slip, she anxiously flipped her long blonde hair behind her, revealing an oversized silver owl earring with sparkling emerald eyes. Jade had a thing for owls. “We’re both able to see beyond the illusions in the world,” she cryptically explained to me once.
“Did you flirt back?” I had shouted over the throbbing bass.
She didn’t say yes. But she also didn’t say no. She shrugged and smiled. That captivating smile seemed to get her out of – and sometimes into – all sorts of trouble. A typical Jade response to life’s complications. Jade’s playful reaction to my serious question sent me reeling and after I threatened to kill her, I needed to recollect myself in the grimy bathroom.
A fist battered the door urgently. One of the few downsides of The Model (some would argue part of its charm) was that it only had one bathroom with one toilet. When cokeheads needed a line, or a gaggle of girls needed to gossip, or the heat of the moment captured two lovebirds, you could forget about using the bathroom for its intended purpose. Most people had no choice but to run outside behind the bar and piss between the garbage dumpsters. I contemplated slinking through the crowd and exiting The Model undetected by Jade. My thoughts had spiraled, and I was growing more paranoid by the minute imagining Tommy and Jade’s whirlwind romance blossoming behind my back.
Sometimes I feel I’ve got to
Run away
I’ve got to
Get away
No shit! I muttered to myself.
The fists had multiplied and were pounding in time with the iconic Tainted Love riff. I stood up, shook out my arms and glanced behind the toilet to check if I’d dropped anything. I usually didn’t notice the writing on the bathroom walls because they were constantly being updated and I was usually too drunk to read them, anyway. But this was impossible to miss. The wall just above the toilet had been swiped with white paint. Within the swath was beautiful black cursive writing:
The mystery of life isn’t a problem to solve
but a reality to experience.
“PEARL! Open up! Did you pull a Mario and disappear into the sewage system or what?!”
It was Jade. I fumed. My alcohol-infused brain hadn’t decided how to deal with the cards she’d dealt me. I spun around and violently pushed open the old bathroom door with such force that a big fat screw fell from the top hinge and landed between us. We looked at each other aghast, and then our eyes lit up with unbridled delight. We both knew what we had to do.
She grabbed my shoulders and joyously shouted, “SCREWS FALL OUT ALL THE TIME...” to which I excitedly finished, “…THE WORLD’S AN IMPERFECT PLACE!” We howled with laughter while a group of annoyed punk girls in bondage belts jangled their way past us and into the bathroom.
It was one of our favorite quotes from The Breakfast Club. I was so impressed by the screw’s perfectly relevant cameo appearance during 80’s Night that I had temporarily suspended my annoyance towards Jade.
“I’m sorry,” she shouted.
“Me too. Let’s talk about it over brunch and mimosas tomorrow.”
“Deal!”
We hugged and then she leaned over the DJ booth and yelled, “Frankie my dear, play Girls Just Wanna Have Fun! LADIES, LET ME SEE YOU MOVE!” I twirled, shimmied, and sweat my emotions out onto the dancefloor with Jade until the bell clanged for last call.
_____________________________________________________________________
As The Model’s drunken visitors spilled out onto North Beacon St., Jade and I walked down the adjacent street to the bar and ordered an Uber away from the crowds.
“Pearl, Tommy doesn’t know….he doesn’t know...” She was slurring her words.
“He doesn’t know a lot of things. Tell me something I don’t know, Jade.”
She broke into a giggle. “He doesn’t know what a gem you are!”
“It’s true, he doesn’t! Because I’m a pearl! And a pearl is just an irritant covered in mollusk SECRETION!”
Jade let out belly laugh and plonked herself on the gentle grassy slope of someone’s front yard. Her blonde hair fanned out behind her and I noticed one of her owl earrings was missing.
“Hey, one of your ear owls flew away,” I said as I pulled her up from the ground.
She smiled unconcernedly. “Pity! But he must have flown away for a reason. Do you know how jade is made?” She extended her arm and swung it slowly as she looked out into the distance and whispered, “Metamorphosis.”
“I believe you mean ‘metamorphism,’ but who even knows the difference between metamorphosis and metamorphism. Except me. And geologists. And biologists. We know. But who cares about us? Bunch of nerds.” I laughed as Jade playfully poked me.
“I prefer saying metamorphosis. Sounds more poetic,” she reasoned.
A black Toyota Corolla inched down the street and I checked the app to verify the license plate and driver, Scott. We crawled into the backseat and the unmistakable stink of cheap vodka with notes of ocean breeze air freshener crept into my nostrils. I jokingly asked Scott, “Hey man, did you get drunk at The Model tonight, too?” The young man looked at me in the rear-view mirror and spoke very quickly.
“No, no, the passengers just before you were Russian. They spilled their vodka all over the car and I haven’t had time to clean it up yet. Only thing I could do was spray air freshener. I sincerely apologize. We can keep the windows open. It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?”
Jade piped up. “It is a beautiful night and we will accept this Uber booze cruise on one condition: You hand me use that aux cord so we can listen to my tunes.”
Scott turned and eagerly handed Jade the aux cord, his hands shaking slightly. I thought I smelled vodka on his breath but drove the thought away. He’d already told us what had happened, and his explanation was perfectly believable – there were plenty of Russians in the neighborhood. Jade was already scrolling madly through her playlists.
“Pearl, it’s so wild about that door screw. I still can’t get over that. We should watch The Breakfast Club when we get back to the apartment. Do we still have some Red Stripes in the fridge?”
“Yep, four left.”
“Perfect! And speaking of The Breakfast Club, found the soundtrack - turn it up, Scott!”
Don’t You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds exploded through the speakers and Jade and I sang in unison.
Won’t you come see about me?
I’ll be alone, dancing you know it baby
And that was the last time I ever saw Jade.
_____________________________________________________________________
When I gained consciousness, I experienced the most horrible hangover of my life. My right arm felt cemented across my stomach. I couldn’t move my head and my chest achingly throbbed with every inhalation. I opened my eyes and quickly comprehended this wasn’t a hangover. Tubes and needles had burrowed into my flesh and machines beeped softly. I felt someone clasp my left hand. It was my mother, and she was dabbing her reddened eyes with a tissue.
“Mom….what happened?” I squeaked out.
Scott had been drunk. He crashed into a tree speeding down Commonwealth Ave and died on impact. I had broken my arm, 3 ribs, and fractured my neck. “It’s a miracle you’re alive, baby.” One of my mother’s tears splashed between my eyes as she carefully leaned over to kiss my bruised forehead.
“And Jade? How is she?” I whispered with equal measure hope and dread.
She exhaled deeply. “Jade sustained a massive brain injury and died this morning at St. Elizabeth’s Hospital.”
My mother began sobbing and squeezed my hand. I stared up at the ceiling and my vision blurred as tears streamed into my neck brace. I felt as if an anvil had been dropped on my broken body. Jade can’t be gone. My best friend since childhood can’t be “gone.” It should’ve been me. I thought the guy had been drinking but I ignored my gut. I’m responsible for all of this. Jade can’t be dead. This can’t be real. I’ll wake up from this, right? Oh Jade, I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault…you can’t be gone, you just can’t ….
_____________________________________________________________________
I was still hospitalized when they held Jade’s funeral. I never had the chance to say a proper goodbye.
After being released from the hospital, I returned to the apartment I shared with Jade and I barely left it for 3 weeks. Time drifted on without me as I filled the endless hours with sobbing fits and marathon sleeping sessions aided by powerful sleeping pills. Family and friends often came by for support, but I was consumed with grief and racked with immense guilt. Being surrounded by Jade’s possessions was both comforting and excruciating. I sometimes thought I saw her breeze through the hallway or dancing in the kitchen and for that split second, I genuinely believed she was there.
I awoke one August morning feeling oddly refreshed, as if I’d slept a thousand years. I hadn’t felt so lucid in months, and it was a beautiful sunny day. I made myself a coffee and launched Spotify on the television, randomly choosing a Daily Mix playlist. I sat outside on the back porch and bathed in sunlight while listening to music. I closed my eyes and suddenly heard something crash through the trees in the back of the yard. Thinking perhaps baby squirrels fell out of their nest, I went to investigate. I looked up and saw a great horned owl peering down at me with brilliant yellow eyes. I had never seen one during the day before, and we stared at each other for several long seconds while it cocked its head and hooted at me.
“What are you doing there, owl? I thought you liked to hang out in dark places?”
I turned back towards the porch to grab my phone to take a photo, when I heard something hit the ground with a soft thud. When I walked back to the tree, I froze. It was one of Jade’s owl earrings that had gone missing the night of the accident. The owl hooted with excitement as I slowly picked the earring up and stared at it in absolute disbelief. I returned my sights to the owl, who vigorously bobbed its head up and down. It danced happily along the branch and hooted at me several times before it flew away.
My knees weak and barely breathing, I clumsily ran back to the porch to call my mother, and saw a calendar notification pop up on my phone.
Today: August 22nd - Jade’s birthday.
No sooner than I realized the date, Simple Minds came through the television speakers.
Don’t you forget about me
I’ll be alone, dancing you know it baby
My mind flashed back to the quote I saw in The Model bathroom that tragic night. The mystery of life isn’t a problem to solve but a reality to experience. I also recalled Jade erroneously telling me how jade was made – by “metamorphosis.”
I clutched the owl earring and realized she hadn’t been wrong after all. I knew within every fiber of my being that I still had my friend in this world, and that she had forgiven me. And the tears that fell were anything but sorrowful.
#spiritworld #friendship #lifeisamystery
Perhaps
There is an endless number of universes, more parallel universes than you’d ever imagine. As long as you think of it, it exists. Maybe it was just a short blip, a meaningless ”What if?”. That’s the kind of power the universe holds, the kind of power you hold and all those versions of you as well. Think of all the possibilities behind the decisions either you made or the world - how different things would have turned out in each one. You don’t have the responsibility over every choice your path follows because it has been written - what you have is the responsibility to make the best out of this version. There are different stories that live on in you and different people you turn out to become. There is no single destiny, and there is no such thing as soulmates. Perhaps you’re already dead in a different universe, perhaps you’re more alive in another. Perhaps you’re already the person you’d always dreamed to be in a different universe, perhaps he’s more in love with you in another. On and on, it never ends. That’s how the world can be, I guess.
The Fish with the Big Melons
There once was a fish trader who didn’t trade fish
From his cart he sold melons that none could resist
His melons were so plump, ripe, and juicy
you would’ve thought they were Kim Kardashians booty
BUT NO THESE WERE REAL, to everyone’s disbelief
So they flocked to his cart to indulge in sweet treats
But the fish trader was adamant. He wouldn’t oblige
He scoffed at their money and said not for I
In shrill voice that protruded from his throat
he let the folks know, that his melons were JUST for show
Not for squeezing and touching or other nasty things of that sort
For these were his melons, not balls for sport
So, he set a price that was too high to bare
They begged for just 1 melon which he would not spare
Money and Gold is not what he wanted
And in a loud voice the fish trader taunted
“What I want is vengeance and vengeance I shall get
On the man who killed my cousin when we were swimming and wet
What I want is his head, mounted on my wall
and he who shall bring me this will get my melons this fall”
So the villagers went out in search for this random man
They knew not what he looked like, whether he was strong, tall, or tan
So they slaughtered every father, boy, and child in sight
Anything for those melons that were so juicy and ripe
They brought back the fish trader the heads on a plank
But in a single glance, he knew they were rank
“You fools!” he cried out in disbelief
“What have you brought me, what a monstrous deed”
“I’m tired of your antics. Let me show you, you’ll see”
He pulled out a pen and drew a shark crudely
This is who I want and bring him quick
His name is Mark the Shark, his motives are sick
And so the bounty was set on the big sharks head
And if you had seen the melons, you would’ve wanted him dead
But Mark was a bastard who would not be caught
He killed every one of whom that he had fought
He laughed in delight and flashed an evil grin
For Mark was monster who would always win
But Mark was greedy like the fish trader himself
“What’s so special of these melons”, he thought to himself
So what he did next, people couldn’t believe
He stoles a man’s lungs in order to breathe
And then he climbed out the ocean and biked his way north
To find the fish trader and take his melons of course
So Mark the Shark biked day and night
Though tired and beaten he put up a fight
Eventually making his way to the village you see
That’s when he saw the fish trader sipping his tea
The sun had just risen, it was the crack of dawn
The shark was tired and let out a yawn
But in front of him now stood the fish trader who didn’t trade fish
He howled, he growled, the melons looked so delish
“You time has come” he told fish trader.
Give me your melons and I’ll see you later.
The fish trader smiled, with his mouth so toothless and dark
“You have fallen for my trap Mark the Shark
Kill you I will, like you killed my cousin”
And with that rolled his melons, not one but a dozen
The big melons bounced up and down delightful
Crushing the Shark ever so spitefully
And then it was over. The deed had been done.
Mark had been killed and the fish trader won
Atop the melons he danced with happiness not spite
He had defeated the tyrant in just a single fight
Then fish trader searched through the dead shark’s corpse
and from it he pulled out his cousin of course
His cousin wasn’t breathing and would be deemed dead
but the fish trader stayed vigil performing CPR instead
And to his delight things worked out well
His cousin came alive, resuscitated from hell
And thus, was the tale of the fish trader who didn’t trade fish
from his cart he sold melons
that none
could resist
The End
Moribund
“What do these symbols mean, was he part of some cult or something?” A mother’s heartbroken voice cried out after looking at an array of roughly made drawings.
“My poor baby boy,” she cried. I wish I could tell her what those symbols really meant, just some doodles that I made out of boredom. She slowly continued moving throughout my room, slowly examining things she had seen many times before. She was accompanied by my father who would try to comfort her but his touch was a splash of oil in water. I hadn’t even done laundry before I left, guess that wasn’t my problem anymore. “Nothing makes sense anymore,” she continued. I had to agree, I swear I hoovered the floor before I left. Where did all this dust come from?
Mum then proceeded to pick up a potted plant, another victim of my neglect. None of my flowers had bloomed. When I was younger, I remember sitting in the sun at my grandma’s house. Surrounded by luscious green grass, chirping birds and enough old people to justify the construction of a brand spanking new cemetery.
Unfortunately, one of the potted plants that had been placed on grandma’s windowsill had either not received enough sunlight or water, causing it to die. I saw it fit to send it into the recesses of the back of the garden, where it couldn’t bother anyone. But all grandma said was ‘Let’s see what we can do’.
After that I realised there were two differing ideologies at play. My own, where I saw it fit to throw the plant away, where it could decompose and feed future generations of plants in a virtuous cycle. The second was that of my grandma, she gave the plant the nutrients it had been missing and the following day it came back to life. At the cost of only time, effort and grandma’s secret ingredient it returned, flowers blooming and all. At the time I couldn’t understand this and when I asked how she did it, she simply said “magic”. The real answer would’ve been better: when something is dying nurture and care can bring it back to life. Then mum put the plant down. I only wished I had thought of grandma before and taken care of it better.
She definitely wasn’t ready to say goodbye, but she was ready to leave. By leaving, so did the remainder of the air and life in that fish tank room. I watched unblinkingly as she left my room and entered the car. It was the bleak mid-winter and yet I stood there in t-shirt and jeans.
I continued to watch while Spring, Summer and Fall both bathed and berated me. I waited all the way until a year had passed. And there mum was, it was good to see her again. Why didn’t I tell her that more often? She had another potted flower in hand and wanted to leave them in my room, dumb woman! She should know I would’ve mistreated them just like the last ones. A new resident lived in that old room now and she asked if they would take and care for them. The new resident was also young and in his twenties, he took the flowers. Mum didn’t need to stay any longer and so she left. Next year she wouldn’t return, but I could never leave. I really wish I had thought of nan.
Him.
It was October 2017 when we all heard the news.
A classmate, a friend, a son - consumed by the flames.
The parents didn’t know, the sister in a critical condition.
A tragedy come too soon.
It didn’t fully hit until we went back.
The empty seat next to me was a foreign experience.
The ghost of the past flooded the classes he was part of,
His laughter and jokes now an echo in our minds.
It didn’t hit until the memorial.
An entire auditorium, a sea of black -
Friends, family, people who knew him.
I realized then that he was gone.
One of the most emotional moments came from someone we both knew.
He stood up and said “it should’ve been me”
A wave of sadness washed over the crowd -
Tears ran like a river.
I’d like to imagine he’s somewhere better,
His sister in a better place with him.
We didn’t get the chance to say goodbye,
But sometimes that’s just the way things work.
Of course with this comes the regret,
The lack of a better friendship.
He was a good person.
It still doesn’t feel real.
Part of me knows he’s still here with us,
Guiding and inspiring to this day and beyond.
His spirit floats through the halls with us,
The unfortunate result of fate.
He’s set to watch us from beyond for forever,
Missing all that could have been.
I’m sure he smiles upon us
For we have grown together because of him.
-m.s.