Like Yesterday

I remember the very first time I saw you. You stood all the way across the crowded room, but you stood out like no one else. I hadn’t even spoken to you, and already I was in love. You stood in the far corner, tall and confident, watching the buzz of the party around you. A mischievous smirk played at your lips as you gazed back at me through your dazzling caramel eyes. I lost myself in those eyes the very first time I saw them.

I remember the first time I saw you smile. My heart melted at the way your perfect pink lips turned up into a grin, exposing your flawless white teeth. And when you smiled, your eyes sparkled like diamonds, almost like they were smiling too. I wish I could have seen that smile more often.

I remember the first time you kissed me. You wrapped both of your thin arms around my neck, and I had one hand pressed to the back of your neck, the other fisted in your soft, copper-colored hair. We stood in the middle of a busy Vegas sidewalk, but I didn’t care who saw us. Everything else had blurred and for that one sweet moment only you and I existed. If only things could have stayed that way.

I remember the first time we made love. It wasn’t sex. It was love. It wasn’t rushed and heated, the way you see it in movies. We took our time, more passionate and careful than we’d ever been, just the way lovers should be. I remember falling asleep, cradled in your strong arms, while you whispered sweet nothings in my ear and planted gentle kisses in my hair. You were my first, and my only.

I remember the first time you said “I love you”. You laced your thin fingers through mine and held me close, looking right in my eyes as you said those three simple words. I was on top of the world. You were perfect, and I was the luckiest boy alive, to call you mine. I’d do anything to get that feeling back.

I remember the day your dad died. The phone rang, and your beautiful lake water eyes filled with tears as you fell to your knees. Instantly, I was at your side, trying to comfort you. I wish there was more that I could have done.

Never again did I see that gorgeous smile, and I grew used to the blank, soulless look in your eyes, the beautiful glimmer in them that I had fallen in love with was long gone.

It broke my heart to see you in such a state. I missed the happy, lively boy that I loved. The perfect nights that had once been spent making love and cuddling, the nights that I lived for, had become sleepless and lonely. Many of those nights had ended with me, cradling your restless form in my arms, crying quietly to myself as your body shook with sobs. You cried for the loss of your father, but I cried for the loss of you. I can’t count the time times that I asked you, begged you to get help, to talk to someone, or me. I wanted the Ryan that I knew back, the Ryan that I loved. I’ll never forgive myself for letting you go.

I remember the first time I found you. You had locked the bathroom door, and it took me nearly ten minutes to unlock it from the outside. My mind raced and my hands shook, my mind only able to think of the worst scenarios. I blinked my eyes over and over, trying to rid myself of the horrible images. At the time, I had believed those ten minutes to be the most terrifying moments I’d ever experienced. If only I had known how wrong I was.

Finally I heard the familiar click of the doorknob, and the door swung open. I rushed into the room, finding you tucked in the corner. Your sleeves were rolled up, exposing your thin wrists. I felt warm tears prick my eyes when I saw the razor clenched tightly in your right fist, almost like a security blanket. I kneeled in front of you, taking your slender wrist in my hand. Blood trickled from it in a thin line, and for a moment I felt as though I may get sick. I pushed the feelings of uneasiness aside as I helped you up, silently motioning for you to sit on the toilet while I got the first aid kit.

You winced as I pressed the wet cloth to the cut, cleaning it. The actual size of the cut surprised me. A regular band-aid just wouldn’t do. Instead, I wrapped your left wrist in soft white gauze, covering up your tattoo. I always loved your tattoos. I can remember spending many cozy nights wrapped in your arms, tracing them over and over with my fingers. Those quiet nights are among the happiest of my memories.

After I had secured the bandage on your wrist, I helped you stand, wrapping an arm protectively around your waist. Your knees shook as I tried to help you walk, and I had to wrap both of my arms around you to keep you from falling over.

“Hurts so much,” you whispered, your head resting on my shoulder. I knew better than to think you were talking about your wrist.

“It’s going to be alright, baby,” I whispered, for my sake as much as yours, planting a tender kiss on your cheek, right behind your ear. “I love you.”

And I remember it like yesterday, the day I found the note. I had trusted you long enough to run to the corner store for milk. After all, you had been getting better, or so I thought. I set the bag on the counter and put the carton in the fridge, noticing the folded note clipped to the front of the refrigerator, my name written in what I could easily recognize as your messy handwriting.

My heart jumped into my throat as I unfolded it. I only had to read the first sentence before I sloppily shoved the note into my pocket, realizing what was happening. I tore down the hall as quickly as my legs would carry me, praying to God that I wasn’t too late. Pounding on the bathroom door, I called your name, my voice cracking through the tears. I tried the knob, flicking my wrist quickly, finding it to be unlocked. I flung the door open and gasped, feeling the color drain from my face. There you stood, a small black handgun to your chest.

“Don’t,” I plead with you, running towards you.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, tears streaming down your cheeks.

The sonic boom of gunfire filled the air, your blood spattering all over the white-tiled wall. I snatched my arms shut, feeling only air between them as you crumpled to the ground.

I dropped to my knees and covered your thin body with my own, your crimson red blood soaking through my white shirt. I was sobbing uncontrollably, my hands fisted in your hair, kissing you over and over, pleading with you to stay with me.

“Please, Ryan, please,” I bawled. “Just hang on. I love you. I need you.”

Your breath grew shallower and shallower, and I only cried harder, grabbing my cell phone from its holder on my belt and calling 911, praying that they’d get there in time to save you. A bead of sweat trickled from my forehead as I reached for a towel, pressing it hard to your chest to clot the blood. I swear I could feel my heart breaking to pieces in my chest as I saw your soulful brown eyes growing blank. Your grip on the weapon relaxed and you reached up to me, knotting your fingers in my dark hair.

“I love you, Brenny,” you said, kissing me hard, one last time. “Never forget that.” You flashed me that beautiful smile that I had missed so much. And just like that, I knew, you were gone.

“No!” I screamed, wrapping my arms tight around your limp body. “Don’t go! Please, stay with me!” I sobbed uncontrollably, slapping at your face, kissing you, doing anything that I could to try and bring you back to me.

I can remember my heart beating so quickly in my chest that it hurt, my breathing becoming more and more erratic by the second. I remember my thoughts racing at the speed of light, so fast that I could barely catch them. But one thing, I could understand: I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t bring myself to keep on living if I didn’t have you.

Thick, hungry sobs tore through my chest as I let go of you, not daring to look at your lifeless body. I sat up on my knees, taking the note and a pen from my pocket. I flipped the piece of paper, taking only a few minutes to write a short message on the paper, explaining myself. Also, I remembered, I had one last request to make: I wanted to be buried right next to you, so that I could spend eternity with the one person I loved most. I set the note back on the counter and picked up the gun.

I placed the weapon at my chest, on the side opposite my heart. I couldn’t damage that, it belonged solely to you. My heart pounded so fast that I was almost sure that it would burst. Silently, I prayed, begging God - if God even existed - to forgive me for anything I’d ever done wrong, and pleading with him to have mercy on my family and friends, and most importantly you and I. I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger, the bullet tearing through my abdomen so quickly that I didn’t even feel it until moments later.

I remember falling to the ground, landing right beside you. My vision started to blur and grow dark, and I made one last scrambling movement to thread my fingers through yours. I pulled your flaccid body close to me and kissed your already stone cold cheek one last time as I felt life leave me.

I can remember one last thing, and I remember it like yesterday. I remember seeing you, standing there, right in front of me, plain as day. That gorgeous, toothy grin played at your lips, and I couldn’t help but smile myself. Your entire body seemed to shimmer and sparkle in the light as you held your hand out to me. Without a second thought I took it, savoring the feeling of your soft, warm skin against my own. You pressed your lips to mine, kissing my hard and passionately. After what felt like a lifetime, we separated, walking hand and hand into the light. You and I, that was all I needed, and I knew I’d be okay.