my chris

He had soft brown eyes that seemed to look into your soul. I met him freshman year of high school. He put a secret admirer note in my gym locker while I was at lacrosse practice. Ever since then, we were best friends.

We all had our rough times, and he helped me through mine, selflessly. I leaned on him in more ways than one. Chris understood me. We were both writers at the time. Even at 15, he knew how to read me, and how to be there. I was a drama kid. He was a techie. I remember sitting on his lap in the lighting booth after school, just talking, or painting sets outside. He raked leaves with me at my mother's house. He helped decorate our Christmas tree. We set off firecrackers in my street for the 4th of July. We went to Italy together on a class trip. I remember being on a boat in Venice, just looking at him. He looked back at me and I thought, this person is a part of me...

After high school, we lost touch until 2 years ago. The second he walked in the door, it was just like it always had been, and we were best friends again. We talked on the phone all the time. Neither of us had any money so sometimes we would just drive around, or sit outside on the hood of a car, and just listen to the quiet...

He moved to the islands a few months ago. We still talked on the phone every week, and we'd text back and forth every few days. He'd say he missed me, and tell me to move to St. John and be with him. He texted "mwah". It was the last text message I got from him, at 1:40am Friday night, a couple weeks ago. I called him since then, but just left messages. He didn't have great reception. Now it rings and goes straight to his voicemail. I keep calling it to hear his voice. Part of me hopes he'll answer, and say it was all a cruel joke, and he's ok, and he's coming home...

I dream about him now. It's just like always- he shows up at my apartment, on a whim to surprise me. He says, "hey girl," as if I were the only girl. We sit and watch Fear and Loathing, intertwined on the couch like little kids. Nothing romantic anymore... we decided to let that go for now, until he got his addiction under control. But we would still sit together, his arm around me. I might fall asleep. I felt so safe, and comfortable, with someone who knew me so well, and who loved me with such genuine sentiment.

People get hurt in life, and we were no exception. Sometimes he would disappear, but I always knew he'd be back. In and out of rehab... he called me crying one night, apologizing for the way he had treated me and our friendship, apologizing for the way he let heroin take over his life. I told him he didn't need to apologize, that I was just so glad he called, and he was ok. He insisted. I accepted his apology. He came over, and we took a long walk together around the neighborhood. He was in my heart; nothing he could do would ever change that.

My dreams now go back and forth from nightmares to Chris, and back to nightmares, and then Chris will be knocking on the door, and I wake up and I get angry because I know he's not at the door. I lay back down, and try to get back to that dream where we're together like always... it's not. It's another nightmare. Dead rats in my bed, I carry a live one to the attic, it keeps trying to bite me. There's a laundromat there. I give the rat to my mother. I turn around, go down the stairs, and there he is. He's on the couch with a blanket, and looks at me. He says, "c'mere girl," and lifts the blanket, inviting me into my favorite spot on the couch. I put my legs over his lap, and my head on his shoulder. He puts his arm around me, his other hand holding a newly lit cigarette...

I can't speak very much now. I have a constant knot in my throat. If I say anything, it's a short whisper. Anything more and I lose it. People talk to me, but I don't listen. I stare at the ground or my cigarette... I was never a big smoker. But it smells like him. The viewing is tonight. Funeral is tomorrow morning. "Morning" was not a familiar concept to Chris.

When I found out what happened, I broke down. I was shaking and crying hysterically. I went home and watched Fear and Loathing, and slept. I got two goldfish, one orange, one black. They didn't have a speckled one. Chris idolized Hunter Thompson. I was going to name the speckled one "Gonzo." The man said to come back in 2 weeks, to let my new tank become an environment. He was talking to me as if he was worried I was going to kill the fish. The tank looked cloudy this morning. Maybe he was right.

Nothing matters anymore. I can't pretend I'm ok. There's a show tonight at a local bar. I'll try to go. Not for very long, just a little while. It might be healthy to remind myself of the people in my life that are still here... Time seems to be passing like an eternity now. I prefer the suspended reality in my sleep.

I miss him. I'll love him always...