Something Reckless

I shoved my phone into my pant pocket with a nervousness I hadn’t felt in ages. I had a date this Saturday. My first date since the accident. I’m not exactly sure why Logan was the girl that pulled me out of my no-date-state; maybe it was the way she seemed to shut the outside world out everyday under her weirdly slanted tree. I had noticed her about a week ago and my first thought was how uncomfortable her back must be. I had wanted to ask her out immediately. The old Luke would have marched right up to her the day he saw her, said something he knew would make her blush, and walked away with a date he knew he was never going to see again after the first one. I could barely recognize that Luke now and I knew that after this Saturday I was definitely going to want to see her again. It took me a week to ask her out, old Luke would have laughed me out of the school. Chris definitely would have.

I thought about Chris every single day. I visited his grave twice a week even though people have told me it’s unhealthy. The nightmares were the worst though. I got them almost every night and every one of them ended with Chris laying lifeless on the road, his eyes wide open and staring, his body covered in so much blood it was like he was drowning in it. Some nights I woke up to a burning in my throat because of the screaming and now I always kept two glasses of water beside my bed before I went to sleep.

I tried to write letters to Blaine but I could never finish them. I tried to get the courage to visit him knowing that his jail cell was his version of hell. I knew a normal person would blame him, but I didn’t. Not completely at least. Blaine may have been behind the wheel but it could have easily have been me. I didn’t stop him from drinking, I didn’t make Chris put his seatbelt on like I knew I should have, I even brought an innocent girl into the truck with us and could have just as easily killed her as well. All because we thought we were invincible. Everyone always looked at me with pity when I first lost my leg, but I didn’t want it. My leg was a small loss compared to Chris and all I could think to do now was be a better person. So my parents helped me get the best treatment I could, I learned how to walk with my prosthetic leg, I cut ties with the Lacrosse team, and I volunteered at community events where I spoke about the effects of drinking and driving even though I felt hypocritical doing it.

I hated the old Luke now and I never wanted to be him again. The only thing I kept the same in my life was my program choice of philosophy. When I originally decided on it, it was just an interest I had that I knew would never amount to anything. Lacrosse was my future even though hockey would have been preferred by my parents before I dropped out of it. Now, I figured I could get my masters degree and become a professor. Teaching was helpful and the idea of it made me hopeful.

“Yoh, Luke!” I turned away from the classroom door I had been entering and saw Nate, an old lacrosse buddy walking toward me. I felt the urge to run, but knew my leg wouldn’t get me far in the amount of time I had.

“What’s going on, man? You doing good? You feeling good?” He reached out and shook my hand loosely.

“I’m as good as I can be.” I said, flashing him a smile. “What have you been up to?” He put a piece of gum in his mouth and leaned against the hallway wall.

“Same old, same old. Look, some of us are getting together Friday night to celebrate Chris since… well, you know. It’s been a year and we don’t want him to think we don’t remember him.” I scratched the back of my head.

“He’s dead though.” I said confused.

“Not in spirit. Not to the guys anyway. It’s just going to be a few of us, but we thought you should know even if you don’t consider us worthy anymore.” I shook my head, attempting to shake myself of this conversation.

“Nate, I-“

“Look, I know shit’s hard. Chris was your bud more than he was anyone else’s, I get that. And you lost more than that.” He looked down at my ‘leg.’ “We just thought you would want to be there.”

“I don’t know that I can be.” I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience. I registered the conversation, but it felt far away, like somebody else was having it and not me.

“Okay.” He said, nodding. He looked irritated. “If you change your mind, it’s at Foster’s. Probably be there for 10.”

“Okay.” He nodded again, not sure what to say and gave me a pat on the shoulder before leaving.

It had already been a year? I looked at the date on my phone and then at my prosthetic, a bead of sweat forming on my forehead. Friday was April 7th. I walked down the hall instead of into class and left the building. It took me ten minutes to drive to the cemetery Chris was buried in (‘conveniently’, it was my left leg that was taken and not my right). The sun had disappeared behind a blanket of clouds and I removed my sunglasses before sitting down at his grave. It was weird to know that he was beneath me, a thought I always had when I visited.

I watched a burial taking place a few sections over, a woman and three kids stood crying as the casket lowered. I felt sad for them. Maybe it was the father, maybe an aunt or uncle, maybe a best friend, it didn’t really matter who it was at the end of the day. It was still loss. I crossed my arms, feeling a chill. The weather had probably decided it was undecided again today since it was early spring in Canada. The days were usually always hot by mid-day, but got significantly colder as the afternoon went on.

I looked at Chris’ gravestone, my heart sinking. I usually felt okay during the day but the conversation with Nate struck something in me and I just needed to be around my best friend even if he was no longer physically around. I knew what Nate was talking about when he said Chris was with us in spirit, I just didn’t believe he or the guys actually cared enough. They were going to celebrate Chris by what? Drinking? I still drank, but the thought of drinking with the same group of people who helped create the Luke that triggered this mess that ended up killing his best friend made me sick.

“It’s been a year.” I said, plucking some of the surrounding grass around me. “Well almost. On Friday.” I knew he wasn’t there to hear me but I liked talking to him anyway.

“It’s really strange to know that. A year ago I lost you and my fucking leg, man.” I gave a breathy laugh even though I didn’t think it was funny.

“I, ugh, asked that girl out. The one I told you about before. I think she’s pitty dating me but somehow that’s okay and she has a really nice smile too. I know you think I’m a tool right now but buddy, you didn’t lose me, I lost you.” I felt water start to prickle behind my lashes and wiped away the one tear that escaped.

“You’d probably tell me to grow a pair if you were here; swing your arm around me and pass me a bottle of Jack. I would one hundred percent be embarrassing you right now.” I let myself laugh for real this time. “You’d probably call her up and tell her she shouldn’t date that douche Luke ‘cause he’s having a pansy moment.” That was his favourite line to use when I didn’t do something he suggested. Pansy. It used to irritate me sometimes, but now I wished he was here to call me a pansy some more.

The air stilled and I let myself go quiet, taking in the scent of spring. I sat there for a few more minutes before standing up, kissing my hand then touching his headstone, and walking off. I would come back Friday, I decided. The guys could drink the night away, but I would spend it with my best friend.