“So what if the bus leaves in less than an hour? I already told you I'm not going.”

“Gerald, come on. It doesn't have to end like this.”

The pair were sitting at a table outside a busy cafe. Gerald sat across from another young man, his hands wrapped around a white ceramic mug with a small chip along the rim. The other young man sat across from Gerald, an uneaten sandwich in front of him on a plate with an excessive number of napkins. Both were thin with scruffy hair and a couple of weeks growth of beard. Neither looked older than twenty five. A fine dust hung in the wavering noon air. A convenience store down the street blasted something fast paced with trumpets in it. The midday traffic muted and broke up the music, though the occasional wailing crescendo could be heard.

“End like what? Like John?” Gerald said. A large, dusty backpack sat next to him, a short shovel strapped to the side. “John couldn't get out when he wanted. I'm not making the same mistake.”

“What happened to John was a freak accident, you know that. You can't let that scare you off, we're short already without him.”

“It's not just the accident. The way we acted towards John before he fell, that's what really bothers me.” Gerald took a sip from his mug. “You know he was up on that ridge because of what you said the night before, right?”

“What?”

“Your little pep-talk.” Gerald's eyes got hard as he set the mug down. “'Lowballers are liabilities', 'If you can't keep up, get out.' All that stuff. You knew he was on the bottom of the stack. You knew he wanted out.”

“What does that have to do with him being up on that ridge?” The other man's nostrils flared. “If he wanted out so badly why didn't he just stay on the bottom of the pack until I found someone else?”

“He didn't want you to can him, Drew. He wanted to leave on his own terms.” Gerald's knuckles grew white around the mug. “He was just trying to impress you, impress us. Like back in high school, remember? Those stupid stunts he used to pull? He looked up to us, man. He was trying to impress us. Now he's gone.” Gerald trailed off, contemplating the chipped mug, and the depths of his cold coffee. A break in traffic allowed the music to drift around the table for an eternal minute.

“You know I didn't mean the stuff in that speech, right? It's just stuff you say to a rookie crew. Gets them motivated. Keeps them moving during crunch time.”

“That's not what this is about. John was plenty motivated, he just couldn't do the job.” A sip of cold coffee. “I don't think I can do it any more either.”

“So what, you're leaving, just like that? After all we've been through together?” Drew snatched up his sandwich, looked at it for a second then set it down, still untouched.

“Look, I'll be back in school in the fall. I might see you around then.”

“Why don't you just stay? This'll all blow over and it'll be just like the old times again. Come on, man, I need you out there. Forget about John. Without you I'll be short a damn fine worker for the rest of the season. We'll make the big bucks like old times.”

“Old times” Gerald considered that for a minute. “Heh, old times. Old times like with John, right?” Gerald grabbed his bag and stood up, knocking over the dregs of his coffee in the process.

“Maybe I won't see you around Drew. Go make your big bucks.” Gerald turned his back and walked away.

“Gerald, wait!” Drew scooted back in his chair to avoid the spilled coffee. But it was too late, cold coffee spilled off the table and down Drew's pants. He grabbed the stack of napkins off of his plate and tried to blot up the mess, it would leave a stain for sure. He looked up again and called, “Gerald?” But Gerald was gone, lost in the midday dust and traffic.

When Alan, my husband, was found stabbed to death in his car some two years previously, the police immediately suspected me. He and I had been going through a very rough patch, and he’d filed for a divorce just the day before, citing my unreasonable behaviour.

Well, okay, so I do have a bad temper, but I just knew he was having an affair. He, of course, denied it and called me a paranoid lunatic.

The fact that I had no alibi didn’t help matters much. All I could tell the officers was that, at the time given for Alan’s murder, I had gone for a long drive to clear my head. I couldn’t even be specific about where I’d driven. They had no option but to arrest me on suspicion. Of course, I didn’t blame them - I supposed they’d soon realise I was innocent and release me.

When they charged me with murder, I went into deep shock.

I didn’t blame Juliet, my best friend, for telling them that I’d threatened to buy a gun and blow his head off. She stated that she hadn’t taken me seriously, and was positive that it was an empty threat made in the throes of disillusionment and anger. Still, the Prosecution made much of that threat.

Thank God for Peter Bellows. He was a fisherman who had seen a photograph of me in his daily newspaper. The day of Alan’s murder happened to be his birthday, so he remembered the date distinctly. He came to the court and declared that he had seen me sitting on the pier in my car at around the time the police Scene of Crime Forensic team maintained the murder had taken place. It was decreed that I must have been in some sort of fugue.

Juliet, who had remained steadfast throughout my arrest and trial, maintained that she had always known I couldn’t have done such a heinous act. While others shunned me, she stayed close, and now we met every week for dinner and a drink. It might have been different if Alan’s murderer had eventually been apprehended; perhaps then people might not have felt there was no smoke without fire. As it was, I learned to live with the sly stares from people who had once called themselves friends.

~~~

Tonight had started out no differently from other Friday evening dinners, except that Juliet seemed to drink more than usual. She had something on her mind. After dinner, she went on to tell me of an affair she was having with a married man. She said she felt she could rely on my discretion.

She was talking too loudly. I quietly told her that the restaurant was too crowded a place to disclose such intimate details and we should go somewhere more discreet. She stumbled as she rose from the table, and our waiter helped her on with her coat. He raised his eyebrows at me when she hiccupped her thanks.

She was somewhat over the limit, but she insisted we take her car. I could see the waiter watching to see if she was going to drive, so I told her that maybe she should leave her car there and pick it up the following day. She was adamant that she wouldn’t do that, so we ended up agreeing that we should each take our own car and meet up at Pointer’s Hill, just outside town. There was no way I was getting in a car with her in that state. Pointers Hill was a secluded hilltop on the way to her home, so I surmised she wouldn’t have far to drive once she had unloaded her guilty secret.

At Pointer’s Hill we both sat in her car and she outlined the story of her adulterous affair. During the disclosure about how the affair started, the ongoing secret meetings and the lies to his wife, Juliet angrily let slip that the same thing was happening all over again. The man had used her and was now dumping her. I don’t think she realised that she’d let slip the all over again part, but a light went on. I was pretty sure she was talking about Alan.

I asked very casually whether Alan had been cruel when he told her he was no longer interested and she started to cry. “You know!” she said.

My temper being what it was … well, I just lashed out at her and her head sort of snapped back. I couldn’t believe that someone could die just like that. Just a snap of the neck and it was broken!

I decided that the best thing to do was to make it look like a car accident. I steered the car onto a downward slope and just let it go. It careered into a tree. I then got in my car and started to drive home.

No good involving Peter again. This was best left as is. Everyone had seen how drunk she was when she left the restaurant and the waiter had seen her get into her own car and drive off. I’d be okay.

I knew this day was coming. I knew it. And still, I had allowed myself to love him, to depend on him, to need him. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I had been keeping track. A kind of morbid and aching count down to heart break. To the end. Of everything. And now here it was. He was dying. I was dying. At least I felt I was. The tears dripped of my chin and splashed on the cold metal table where he lay, stretched out and quiet and still. What had I been thinking? I knew better. When you love, you always pay a price. I cursed myself, I cursed cancer. Why, oh why, had I given my heart to a dog?

I inched my wheelchair a little closer to the stark, cold table and stretched to reach him. My fingers slid in a familiar path along his silky neck, across his back, down to the rounded firmness of one muscled thigh. My throat clenched and my breath came out in strangled little gasps. I watched my service dog through eyes obscured and stinging. I could barely make out the rise and fall of his chest. His breathing was becoming more labored.

"I’m sorry Ms. James, its time. He’s showing significant distress now. We don’t want him to suffer.”

I looked up at the kindly old vet. His eyes were compassionate but firm. He had, no doubt, been here a thousand times, maybe more. In his right hand he held a capped syringe. It gleamed in the bright flood of the institutional fluorescent light.

I nodded and squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t want to see the syringe or what he did with it.

“There.” Finality and apology dripped off the word.

I opened my eyes and rocked forward as a wave of sobs ate through my body. I buried my face in his soft fur. I thought about the way he used to help me. He was the smartest dog I’d ever known. An aide, a tool, yes. He was my bridge between crushing dependence and glorious freedom. But he was more than just picking things up, opening doors and turning on lights. We had been together almost twenty four hours a day, for 11 years. He was a warm body curled into my side every night in bed, he was a wet nose pushing into my palm in search of a treat. He was a whirling tornado of licks and thumping tail every time I came into the room. He was my best friend.

“Than you Jack” I whispered, my voice thick and wet. “…I love you.” I inhaled his musky doggy smell and held my breath as the stumbling rhythm of his chest stalled and finally broke. And just like that, he was gone. I sat up and stared at my lap as the tears fell. The ache in my chest was sharp and profound. The pain of heartbreak real. “Just a dog.“ I chided myself, but I knew that wasn’t true. He had touched my life and his paw prints would remain forever. Without looking back, I wheeled out of the room.

The convertible crackled as its tires rolled up the cobblestone driveway. Zach turned the engine off, and chirping crickets filled the silence. Karen, sitting in the front seat, crossed her arms and smirked at Zach. He smiled back.

“Good date,” he said.

“Yeah,” she said. “I liked the movie.”

“Me too.”

They looked at the full moon, then at each other. Karen laughed a little. Zach leaned forward, and Karen did too. The kiss was quick but tender. To Zach, it felt just right.

“Goodnight, Zach,” said Karen.

“Goodnight,” said Zach.

She got out of the car and Zach watched her move toward her house. When she reached the porch, she turned and waved, her face illuminated underneath the porch lights. Then she went inside.

“Okay,” Zach said, staring at the door. “You can come up now.”

Wayne sprouted up from the backseat of the car. “Thank God,” he said. “I didn’t think that goodbye was ever going to end.”

“Well, it was a special moment,” Zach said, starting the car.

“I could tell,” Wayne said. “I was there, you know.”

“Very funny. You going to call it a night and take the car back to your old man?”

“Not yet,” Wayne said, hoisting himself into the front seat, his leather jacket crinkling against the upholstery. “Let’s go to the creek first. Like old times.”

“The creek it is,” said Zach.

Wayne turned on the radio as Zach pulled out of the maze of suburbs and onto the main avenue. The breeze that drifted through the car blew Zach and Wayne’s hair back. Wayne tuned the radio dial to a jazz station and nodded his head to the music.

“That was a nice kiss back there,” said Wayne, nudging Zach. “Very passionate. Makes me wonder what you would have done if I wasn’t in the car.”

Zach laughed. “Remind me again why you had to be the in backseat for the entirety of my date?”

“Cause I have to be the one to pull into my driveway at the end of the night.”

“Yeah, but I could have dropped you off somewhere before I picked Karen up.”

“I know. We went over this. There was nowhere for me to go.”

“I don’t know. What about Jack’s house? Or Tim’s?”

“I’m not friends with those guys. Who needs them when I got you?” Wayne nudged him again. “You and me, best friends since the first grade.”

Zach smiled. Wayne rolled down the window and rested his elbow on the car door, running his fingers through his dark, tousled hair.

“Thanks for the car, Wayne,” Zach said.

“Hey, thanks for getting me out of the house for the night.”

Zach chuckled.

“She’s a pretty girl, Zach,” Wayne said.

“She is,” Zach said. “She is.”

They were in the woods now, on a narrow, dirt road lined with foliage in full bloom. Wayne stuck his hand out and let it brush against the weeds.

Zach said, “you didn’t get too bored back there, did you?”

“No. I found a comic book on the floor. Right under the drivers seat.”

“Oh. You go anywhere while we were at the movies?”

“I walked around the plaza for a bit.”

“Find anything cool?”

“An auto parts shop and a pet store.”

“Oh.”

They stopped at the end of the road, about ten feet from the creek. Wayne went to the trunk and pulled out and a liter of cola and a cold pizza. He sat down next to Zach on the hood of the car. They looked at the night sky and listened to the water flowing through the creek.

“Help yourself to the pizza,” Wayne said.

“No thanks. It looks a little old.”

“It’s from Thursday. That’s not that bad.”

Zach opened up the soda had a sip. “So when are you going to get a girlfriend, big guy?”

“I don’t know.”

“What ever happened to that Chelsea girl from biology? She was cute. Ask her out and we could go on double dates together.”

“I don’t think she likes me.”

“You’ll never know until you ask,” Zach punched him on the shoulder. “What do you say?”

Wayne grabbed a piece of pizza. “Not everyone can just get girls like you, Zach. You’re a people person.”

Zach shrugged. Wayne shoved the slice of pizza in his mouth. They were silent for a few minutes. Then Wayne said, “why don’t we go swimming in the creek anymore?”

Zach chuckled. “I think it’s a little shallow for us now.”

“No it’s not. I still go swimming from time to time.”

“You do not.”

“I swear. It’s as warm as it was ten years ago.”

“Why don’t you ever call me?”

Wayne shrugged and looked away. “I don’t know. You seem busy chasing girls and hanging out with Tim and Jack and Mike and those guys.”

Zach put his arm around Wayne. “Aw, come on, Wayne,” he said, “you know you’re still my best friend.”

“I know,” Wayne said, nodding. “I know.”

The crickets were getting quieter now. Finally Wayne said, “what are you doing for the rest of the night, anyway?”

“Going home, I guess. You?”

“I was going to see if you wanted to play videogames in my basement. Like old times.”

Zach smiled. “Of course,” he said, tossing the car keys to Wayne. “You drive.”

Joe felt the cool glass of the tinted window on his temple as he stared sullenly through his reflection at the passing cityscape. Alone in a car packed full of publicists, image consultants and managers he sat quietly, sharp suited and miserable. The stretch turned the final corner to the venue.

”˜We’re here, remember what we spoke about’ came a distant voice from the seat next to him.

The door was opened from outside and the Joe French stepped onto the red carpet to a cacophony of noise and a thousand flashing bulbs. Smile fixed, hand raised in a well practiced gesture of gratitude he made his way through the gauntlet of reporters. Through the hysteria he caught snippets of non-so-subtle questions from the baying flock, eager for a morsel of a story to be cast to them.

”˜..spoken to your wife..’ ”˜..have the children..’ ”˜..true your best friend could..’

Joe walked on to the gaudy splendour and sanctuary of the lobby in the cinema where the awards ceremony was being held. Faces of peers stared apologetically stirring him to bolster his defences, straightening his shoulders he turned to his PA Maria.

”˜Is she here?’ he asked in hushed whisper.
”˜Yes’
”˜And him?’
”˜Yes, I think they’ve already taken their seats.’
”˜Together?’ he exclaimed a little too loud, one or two heads turning at his exasperation.
”˜For God’s sake she doesn’t mess around does she?’
Maria stood silently, shuffling her feet, there was no answer to this question.
”˜Fine, if she can move on this quickly and be ok with it then so can I. Where do I go?’

Maria motioned to the door for the stalls but as Joe turned his eyes fixed upon a figure he had vainly hoped never to see again. He froze momentarily and stared, his mind clouded with emotion and then sharpened, burning unsaid sentiments into the back of the figure’s head.

The figure, who had been deep in conversation, sensed the eyes upon him and looked nervously over his shoulder. He paused momentarily, uttered something to his cohort and head bowed, walked over to Joe.

Joe stood resolute. Whilst desperately appearing not to be, the eye’s of the room were inevitably upon them.
”˜What are you doing here Matt?’
”˜She, erm, she wanted me to come, you know to kind of, support her.’ Matt stuttered.
”˜How could you?’ Joe retorted sharply, eyes wide, nose flaring.
”˜Do we, erm, can we maybe so this some other time, or somewhere a little more private perhaps?’
”˜Screw you. My best friend, you’re supposed to be my best friend. We’re not part of this celebrity, brown nose crap; we went to school together for God’s sake. You stood with me at my wedding, you’re the Godparent of my kids and this is how you treat me!’

”˜Look Joe, let’s get out of here shall we, this is neither the time nor the place for...’
”˜No we’re gonna do this now!’ Joe shouted, loathing and bitterness pulsing through his veins, he allowed himself to be immersed in it and his self restraint buckled. The weeks of wretchedness, disgust and pure unadulterated betrayal took over him in a momentary rush of primeval emotion.

A push, a scuffle, a torn shirt, a bloody nose, a camera flash.

“Mommy, who’s the man in the photograph”
“That’s Jack”
“JACK! Like my name”
“Yes dear, Jack, like your name. Sit down; let me tell you about Jack.”

Lauren and Jack met on the first day of college. Lost and confused she walked straight in to him, books flew everywhere. They both reached for their copy of Physics 101 and realised they were in the same class, and since that day were inseparable, best friends. One day whilst walking through campus Lauren asks,

“So what’s the big plan Jack, what do you want to be when you “grow up”?”

“Since I was 5 it’s been the same... an astronaut”

“No way!” Screeched Lauren “Me too!”

College flew by, followed by a 3 year doctorate they both had to complete if they really wanted to make it to NASA. Work was hard and the hours long, but they stuck together, pulling each other through the hard times and enjoying whatever free time they managed to attain. There was no time for romance between them, both were head strong career minded people, with one goal; space.

The day finally came when they would discover if they had made the cut. The process was exhausting. Both had completed a weeklong interview involving medical tests, personal interviews and orientations, after which about 100 men and women are selected from thousands of applicants.
They sat nervously in the kitchen of their apartment; anxiously waiting for the postman to bring them their future. Both couldn’t sit still, fidgeting, until there was a noise and two envelopes lay in the hall.

“I can’t do it, you open it”

“We’ll open each other’s” Jack said as he swapped the envelopes over, trying to remain calm.

They held each other’s futures in their hands. Slowly they peeled back the paper seal and scrambled to remove the crisp white paper. The moment felt like an eternity, time slowed, stopped. Slowly they looked up and their eyes met

“You did it!” erupted Lauren and jumped to hug Jack

“So did you! We’re going to NASA!”

The next few years would be the hardest of their lives. Studying and training with many other candidates, with no guarantee either of them will achieve their dream of a space flight. They knew they had to put their lives on hold and focus on their goal.

The days were long, the training was exhausting, and it pushed the candidates to their limits and then even further. Some couldn’t take it; they broke down and left. An astronaut has to be strong, able to handle anything. Lauren and Jack kept each other going, reminding themselves why they were here, what they were aiming for.

At last the day arrived. Only once every two years are new candidates picked for full astronaut training. As they waited nervously in the hall for the announcement Lauren clutched on to Jacks hand and squeezed it tightly. He looked at her, a look they had always tried to avoid. There was a moment...

“Congratulations guys!” one of the other candidates bounded over to them,

“You made it!”

Lauren and Jack had been unaware the list had been posted and it slowly sunk in what their friend had said. They erupted in to screams and hugs, along with the other successful applicants. Their brief connection; forgotten.

Their flight training was intense. A year later and they were launched. Their mission was to maintain the space station for the next few years.
As they were approaching the end of their assignment the unthinkable happened. During a routine equipment check a valve had become loose, the pressure was turned on and the tap was blasted across the room hitting an oxygen tank. This caused a devastating chain of events. Equipment started to fail, air was being released and the final straw; a spark was ignited from the flying objects causing a frightful explosion; the hull was breached. Air was being sucked out in to the vacuum of space and the doors began to close.

The two were at opposite ends of the station. They ran towards each other but the airlock closed between them. The doors were sound proof. They touched their hands to the glass. Lauren signalled to use the escape pods. They were individual shells programmed to take any astronaut back to Earth in case of an emergency.
Lauren entered the front most pod and turned on the communication system. Jack found the only rear pod he could reach. The door wouldn’t open.

“Pod 5 has been breached” the voice echoed in the room. Jacks’ heart sank.

At that moment Laurens face appeared on the monitor in the room.

“Jack, what’s wrong, why are you not in the pod?”

Jack turned to face the monitor

“Lauren, I should have told you years ago, I just never knew how”

“What are you saying Jack, what’s happening, where are you?” her voice sounded panicked

“Lauren, I love you. I always have and always will. Goodbye” and with that he pushed the button to eject her pod. There wasn’t much time and he knew he couldn’t make it out alive.

“I saw the explosion before I re-entered the atmosphere, Jack was gone. He saved my life. He was a hero and my best friend. That’s why you have the same name. One day you’ll grow up to be a hero too.”

We were 12 years old when we met each other. My family had just moved from Dallas, Texas city life to the old humdrum of Kokomo, Indiana. I was smoking my stolen cigarette at the bus stop on that cold winter morning when she walked up. “You better hurry up with that, the bus is going to be here soon.” “Thanks.” I said.

Tina was a small girl. She didn’t stand quite as tall as me and she had a small build, but she had a tough look about her. Her brown, curly hair was covered by a dingy gray stocking cap and she wore a heavy brown coat.

The bus came and, seeing that I was new, she asked me if I wanted to sit with her. I told her yes. We talked about school things until we got to school, which took up 20 minutes of our day. We parted and went on with our day until the end of school, where we met up on the bus again.

I asked Tina if she would like to come to my house for a few minutes after we got off of the bus and she said, “sure”. So, I showed her where I lived and introduced her to my mother. We got something to drink and we left again. I walked with her to her house and I was introduced to her mother.

When I went home that night, I was excited to have made a new friend, right off the bat, like that. For me, it wasn’t so easy to make friends. In Texas, I was a loner. I thought that the other kids would not be friends with a chubby girl with glasses and short brown hair. I saw myself as an outsider to everyone.

I stuck with Tina as much as possible. She didn’t seem to mind. She made every day easier. She saw herself as an outsider too, but she was more of an outgoing kind of outsider. She talked to people even when they gave her that “how dare you” glare. She was not afraid. When they made comments behind her back, she would just laugh it off and go on.

We never left each others side. We did everything together. We decided instead of taking the bus home from school every day, we would just walk across town , except on the rainy days. We stood up for each other, I spent most of my days at her house because my mother did not like Tina, and Tina thought that my mother was mean.

Mom tried to keep me from going to Tina’s house but it didn’t work all of the time. I would ask my mom permission to spend the night at another girls house and she would allow me to go, but instead of going where I was supposed to go, I spent the night with Tina. Tina always had something cool going on, where at my house; there was a whole lot of drinking and arguing going on.

Eventually, my family moved to another town, taking me with them. I had to leave Tina behind. I cried for days. I resented my parents for making me move. She was the only true friend that I really ever had. Oh, how I hated them!

I learned to move on with my life. I graduated high school and went to college. I married twice and had three children, in the process. Always thinking about Tina at times that I may have needed her if she had been there. Memories can only take you so far.

Twenty-two years later, my father was diagnosed with thyroid cancer and he needed someone to take care of him. I volunteered because my brother and sister had families and I was in the middle of single life again.

I moved into my dad’s place. While caring for my father, I was thinking about Tina and wondered if she still lived in this town. I thought, “Everybody has a Myspace page, I’ll see if I can find her.” I did just that. I left a friendship request saying, “If you are the Tina I am hoping you are, you lived in Kokomo when you were 12. I am Noshi. We were best friends until I moved away. I would like to talk to you.” on every woman’s page, that may have looked like Tina and had Tina’s name on it.

I halfheartedly waited. I checked my in-box every so often in hopes that I would get a message from her. Then, one day, out of the blue, a month and a half later, I got a message. “Noshi, you found me!” Needless to say, we chatted on yahoo for the rest of the day and half of the night, that night.

I was expecting to have to go through the “get to know” each other part of our friendship again. But, when we got together the next day, we picked up where we left off. Just like there never was a two-decade gap in our relationship.

We made a pact: We will never leave each others sides again! We are still best friends today and we always will be, until time ends.

I held my wife's hand. I looked into her teary eyes and told her that everything would be alright, while both of us knowing that the doctors weren't so sure.
"I love you" she cried, "I always have and I always will." Then my eyes were tearing too. She looked so weak. Not the strong minded, strong willed woman I married just ten short years ago. Just a frail frame of what she use to be, but she was still beautiful in my eyes. Still the wonderful, witty girl that stole my heart and would never give it up.
"I love you too my darling", I said. "You are my everything. My wife. My lover. My soul mate. And most important of all, my one true friend. It's always been you and me against the world, and we not backing out of a fight now."
I turned for a moment and looked outside the hospital window. People were passing on the sidewalk. I almost felt sorry for them. For they haven't nor will they ever find a love, a friendship, a bond, like what my wife and I hold. Pity.
When the nurse came in the room, my wife held my hand tighter. I couldn't help but think that this may be the last time our skin would touch. I didn't want a grip of fear to be our last moment together. While I still held her hand, and leaned over and kissed her. I wanted it to last forever. A million memories rushed though my brain, and it was the best kiss in both our lives.
They started to roll her bed towards the operating room, our hands were still clasped. I never let go, and neither did she.
Finally, the nurse told me that I couldn't go any further. My wife kissed my hand and told me that she loved me. I told her that I loved her too. Then the weirdest thing happened. My wife let go of my hand, turned to the nurse and said, "Okay, let's get this show on the road"
There she was. There was my girl. There was the woman that I thought might have been gone. The strong minded woman I married was back and ready to take on the fight.
My wife turned to me and smiled, "We're going to be just fine. I'll see you when I wake up. We'll do some more of that hand holding stuff, and maybe, if you're lucky, I'll let you kiss me again."
Even the nurse smiled. Then they rolled her away. My eyes never lost sight of the bed, even though I could not longer see my wife. But I could see her in my mind. I could see that she would fight. Because she is a fighter. My fighter. My wife. My lover. My friend.

You’re my best friend. We’ve been so close for so long, how can we be so far apart now? How can I fix this? You’ve always been there for me to solve all my problems. How do I work this out on my own?

I guess I should admit it: I’ve had a crush on you for years. How could I not? You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re good looking. You’ve always been by my side, helping me reach my dreams, comforting me when I was down. Your smile alone makes my whole day better; your laugh can light up a room. When I look in your eyes I feel like I’m falling; when you hug me I’m flying.

So when you first started talking about her, it hurt. She sounded so perfect, the girl I could never be. But you were always there for me, so I was determined to be there for you. I smiled and listened as you described every detail about her though I was screaming inside. When you told me you loved her, I congratulated you. I tried to be happy for you. That night I cried myself to sleep. Day after day, I saw you less and less. I understood, so I gritted my teeth, I tried to get over my crush. When we did hang out I let you talk about her. It took all my strength, but I didn’t complain. It felt like you were ripping out my heart.

Then, during school, I saw her in the hall. She was with another guy, flirting. I bit my tongue. I wasn’t going to say anything. Then she kissed him. My vision turned red. I was so angry. How dare she? How dare she betray you like that? You deserve so much better. I followed them. They said goodbye; she went outside. He walked away. I went after her. I told her what I had seen. I said you're too good for her. She laughed at me. She said I was jealous. True. She said you would never love me back. True. Then she said you were so naïve you deserved to be cheated on.

I couldn’t stop myself; I slammed her into the wall. I backhanded her. She is scum, vermin. She doesn’t deserve you. I spit on her and walked away fuming.

Later when I saw you I tried to tell you what happened. You pushed past me and wouldn’t even look at me. I don’t know what she said to you, but you hate me now. How can I explain that I was just trying to protect you? I love you so much that it hurts and she is just using you. And now you’ll never love me.

What can I do to make you forgive me? You’re my best friend. I need you.

Friendship sometimes grows into love. But love never just goes back to friendship. How can it? Friendship can catch fire and grow into a burning love, but when the flames subside, ash is left, or maybe sometimes coals. Whatever remains is not the same as before the flames consumed what you once knew.

We were friends. We had the soothing warmth of two friends that were so close. Then you changed. You started sparking. You tried to kiss me. I turned and buried my face in your shoulder, keeping away from that dangerous mouth of yours that had the power to burn my whole world to the ground. I kept my face buried there for long moments. We were like unmoving flint and steel, afraid to move for fear of catching fire. Then you stepped back and walked out. I was afraid I had doused everything there was between us.

But you still came back, and we were still friends. We were still so close. But now over everything loomed the possibility of being closer. The warmth of your body next to mine was not the same comforting warmth of a friend. Now there was something hotter burning just beneath your skin. And your sparks had ignited my curiosity. This new heat was strange and exciting. I was intimidated and intrigued. You tried to kiss me again. Those hot flames that leapt from your mouth to mine consumed my every thought. I let you set my world ablaze.

Then you changed my world again. You had pulled me into this strange new fiery world, and we were closer in a whole new way. Your fire went out while mine kept burning. You stopped kissing me. You stopped loving me. The flames that had coursed through your body into my own were so much weaker than they had been before. Then you walked out. You wanted to just be friends. You left me standing in a pile of ashes with my embers still burning.

With you, anything in between being friends and being lovers is torture. Yet here I am, caught in limbo, lying so close to you like we used to. I don’t feel the same comforting warmth I felt at the start, nor do I feel the burning desire that was the start of something else. There is something simmering. Something precariously balanced between going cold altogether and boiling over.