Stand By Me

chapter seven; Stand By Me

Ray Brower's body was found. But neither our gang nor their gang got the credit.

In the end we decided that an anonymous phone-call was the best thing to do.

We headed home.

And although many thoughts raced through our minds we barely spoke.

We walked through the night and made it back to Liverford a little past five o'clock on Sunday morning; the day before Labor Day.

We'd only been gone two days. But somehow the town seemed different. Smaller.

"Well. See you in school," Perry says. "Yeah, see you in junior high, man," Jesse pats his back before he starts walking in the direction of his house. He stops in the middle of the street and picks something up.

"Penny!" I let out a light laugh, wondering if he'd start a new penny collection. "Guys, I better get home before my mom puts me out on ten most wanted list," Lee says.

"Hey, Jes? No hard feelings, okay?" He holds his palm out and Jesse skins it with a smile, "No way, man." Lee then starts going towards his house on the opposite side, singing The Ballad of Paladin softly.

1985

As time went on we saw less and less of Lee and Perry until they inevitably became just two more faces in the halls. That happens sometimes; friends come in and out of your life like busboys in a restaurant.

I heard that Pez got married out of High-school, had four kids and is now the forklift operator at the Arsenal Lumberyard.

Lee tried several times to get into the Army but his eyes and his ear kept him out. The last I heard, he'd spent some time in jail. He was now doing odd jobs around Liverford.

"I'm never gonna get out of this town, am I, Jase?" I crinkle my brows at him. "You can do anything you want, man," he nods then holds his hand out. "Yeah, sure. Gimme some skin," I do so, playfully punching him afterwards.

"I'll see ya, Nelson."

"Not if I see you first," we then went our separate ways, reflecting on the last two days.

Jesse did get out. He enrolled in the college-courses with me. And although it was hard, he gutted it out like he always did.

He went on to college and eventually became a lawyer.

Last week, he entered a  fast food restaurant. Just ahead of him, two men got into an argument.

One of them pulled a knife.

Jesse, who would always make the best peace, tried to break it up.

He was stabbed in the throat and died almost instantly.

"Dad, can we go now?" My oldest son, Karl, asked while standing in the door way of my office. I look away from my computer screen, "You ready?"

"Yeah, we been ready for an hour," he groans. "Okay, I'll be right there," I tell the eight year old. He turns around and closes the door.

"He said that half an hour ago," his friend says.

"Yeah, my dad's weird he gets like that when he's writing." They both go down the hall then left out of the front door. I put my hand on my chin as I read the last sentence I wrote before continuing.

Although I haven't seen him in more than ten years, I know I'll miss him forever. I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was twelve.

Jesus, does anybody?

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