“Come on man, let’s go already!”
Tom was rummaging through the closet, talking to himself under his breath. Something about the weather, he was always convinced it was going to rain.
“What are you doing anyways?” I asked in an annoyed tone.
“Chill dude, I can’t find my coat… Grams must have moved it again…”
Tom had moved in with his grandmother after moving out west, closer to me. It certainly was a better situation than when he lived with his girlfriend, even if Grams enjoyed a tall G&T a little more often then her doctor would approve. She was well past the point of caring what anyone else thought she should do - she was 84 for God’s sake. Tom and Kelly, his uptight now ex-girlfriend, broke it off after she decided that he wasn’t “serious enough about his future,” …whatever that meant. I always knew they weren’t a good match, unfortunately it took Tom a year of dating and 2 months of hell living with her to find out. He probably would’ve stayed with her forever if she hadn’t split.
Now on the weekends he and I would venture off into the mountains, where we would usually consume some beer, argue about which brand of beer was better, and stare off at views of the city until we got to tired or to bored and came back to his grandmothers.
“Dude, let’s GO!” I said as I whirled my key chain around my finger, halfway in the garage and half peering in the house. The smell of his grandmother’s house always seemed to stick to your clothes, a delightful combination of mothballs and old furniture. I couldn’t stand being completely in there for too long, it seemed to remind me of my own mortality some how.
Finally he came around the corner and we jumped in my car. “Let’s roll,” I said as I turned the key in the ignition, “I gotta get out of this town.” It was just a short 30 minute drive away - 45 minuets if Tom drove. We darted through traffic towards the edge of town, windows down and the wind blowing around papers in the back seat.
“Dude, catch those papers” I shouted over the wind to Tom.
“Got it” Tom exclaimed as he contorted himself around in the seat and snatched one sheet as it was heading strait for the window.
“What the heck is this?” Tom asked looking at the now slightly wrinkled documents in his hand.
“Just something I was playing around with…” I said, trying to play it off like it was nothing.
“Looks like a poem,” he said as he theatrically cleared his throat
In his best Shakespearian impression began to read:
“Time’s a waste’n O friend of mine.
Time’s a waste’n for all our…” I snatched the paper from him.
“Hey! Come on man,” Tom said reaching over towards me, “Let me finish!”
“Forget it.” I said.
“Come on, seriously what is it, let me finish.”
Tom spent the rest of the drive pleading with me to let him see the paper again. I spent the rest of the drive telling Tom to ‘let it go’ and leave me alone. He always did this; he would fixate on one thing and annoy me to death about it.
When we finally arrived at our usual spot at the end of a dirt road, I got out and headed to the trunk where we kept the cooler. It was already evening and the mountains were already casting a shadow on the edge of the town. We walked down the path toward the clearing on the slope of the mountain. A few beer cans were scattered about - apparently we weren’t the only ones who knew about this place. We at least had the common decency to throw our empties back in the cooler.
“This place is always trashed.” Tom muttered.
“Why don’t you clean it up?” I countered.
“Why don’t You!” he said with a little more emphasis. Tom was always full of mature suggestions like that. Lots of suggestions, seldom any action.
We sat down on a big bolder and cracked open the cooler. Tom immediately chimed in, “BudLight again?”
“It was on sale, besides, I’ve bought the last 2 weekends. It’s your turn next time anyways. You can waste your money on the horse piss you enjoy then.”
“You have no taste.” Tom declared.
“When are you going to quit that crappy job of yours anyways?” I jabbed.
“How many times have I told you, I’m just waiting for the right time.”
“O, is there a good time to get out of the minimum wage Blockbuster employee business?” I taunted.
“Whatever, I told you I’m saving up for Japan.” Tom had the same poster on his wall in every bedroom I’d ever known him to have. It was a super cliché picture of Mt. Fuji complete with a cherry blossom tree in the foreground. I shouldn’t have started this age old argument with him, but I was in a bad mood after his relentlessness on the ride out.
“You’re the one wasting your time writing poems anyway.”
I was sick of it by this point, “Its lyrics to a song OK? Let it go”
“What’s the song about? When did you start writing music, you don’t even play an instrument.”
“What, like a trumpet? You want me to sing and play trumpet now? Is that what you’re suggesting?” I blurted without thinking. I’d never told him (or anyone, come to think of it) that I had always wanted to be a singer-songwriter.
He began to laugh uncontrollably, even going as far as to start choking on his beer. Right then I wished he would’ve choked. I nearly choked him myself.
“F*ck you.” I said stone cold. It only seemed to become funnier the longer Tom thought about it.
“You’re never going to go to Japan! You don’t even have enough money to buy beer on the weekends! You live with your grandmother for God’s sakes! You’ll be here in 20 years still talking about leaving!” I shouted.
He stopped laughing and just stared at me with razor eyes. I knew I went too far but I couldn’t stand being laughed at. Everyday I dreamed of singing in front of a packed crowd, all of them cheering fanatically. I practiced in the shower almost every night before bed, at the top of my lungs. I wasn’t that bad, I had a real chance.
Several minutes of silence passed as we both stared off at the city with twisted expressions on our face. The sun had now completely set and you could see the lights from all the homes outlining the grid of the streets.
“Let’s get out of here” I said as I grabbed the cooler and headed back down the path, not waiting for a response. I could hear him a few steps behind me on path so I knew he was coming anyways.
We got in the car and rode the whole way home in silence. Tom just stared off out the window.
When we got back to his grandmothers, he got out without saying a word. I had left my backpack in his room so I followed him in. As we walked in the house, Grams was passed out in her old brown cloth recliner, reruns of TV game-shows blared and lit the room. Unsurprisingly a tall glass with only melted ice and a lime sat next to her - the only remains of a gin and tonic long since gone.
Tom sat on his bed facing away from me. That stupid poster was still up on his wall. I started to say, “Listen, I’m…” Tom cut me off, “Forget it. We both said stupid stuff. You know you’re way out…”
I turned, backpack in hand, and started back towards Grams and my car. I glanced back over my shoulder and saw him staring up at Mt. Fuji.
We didn’t talk at all the next week. When Friday came around I drove out to his grandmother’s house like usual. I had bought beer again, this time the brand he liked.
Grams answered the door, G&T in hand.
“Tommy’s gone.” She said matter-of-factly, not seeing the need for a ‘Hello.’
“What?”
“He left yesterday for Japan.” I couldn’t believe my ears! I couldn’t remember Tom every leaving our home town, let alone the country. I didn’t think he even had a passport!
“Wow” I said trying to understand if she was serious or not.
“He left this for you, I guess that’s it then.” and Gram’s handed me an envelope and promptly shut the door in my face.
“F’n old people” I said under my breath.
I examined the note, doing a quick mental handwriting analysis – though I couldn’t remember ever getting anything hand written from him before.
You're right, I wasn’t ever going to go to Japan. The timing wouldn’t have ever been right. I returned an engagement ring I had bought for Kelly and traded it for a one-way plane ticket. I’m sorry for laughing at your song lyrics. I’m sure you’ll be a great singer.
Best,
-Tom
I reread it a few more times before putting it back in the envelope and folding it into my pocket. I walked back to my car in a daze.
I headed back out to our clearing on the mountains anyways. I got there and sat on our rock by myself. It felt lonelier then I could remember, but I couldn’t help but smile thinking of Tom, walking a head above all the Japanese on the streets.
“I guess it’s my turn to follow through on my dreams…” I said aloud to the city. It really was a good view.
Touring some of the larger boats was most comparable to house shopping. I would enter a kiosk that had been constructed earlier in the day. Most were trendy chic glass rooms with very attractive female greeters who stood behind computers and introduced us to salesmen. Then, after being offered a beverage of your choice from the open bar, we would tour the yachts. Pretty sweet indeed.
