Platonic // Josh Kiszka

Platonic

Before

You slammed the tequila shot down and dropped the glass onto the kitchen counter. You told yourself it was because you were letting your hair down. You were out to have a good time and forget the monstrosity that had been the previous year. But in truth, it was dutch courage. You were drowning in a sea of faces you hadn't seen in five years, their enthusiasm at your attendance becoming more overwhelming by the second.

You'd not known what to expect. Feeling as if the only place you wanted to be was home. With a broken heart and nowhere else to go. New Years was the perfect re-set. A time to lay waste to the past and carve out a better, more satisfying future. Wasn't it?

You picked up another shot and raised it to the air. It spilled over your fingers as you toasted to a fresh start, shooting it back and wincing at the burn at the back of your throat. You just wanted complete annihilation. The healing could start tomorrow.

"Slow down, will you?!" Josh said, "Or you'll be passed out by midnight."

You shook your head at him, trying to convey how much you didn't want his advice.

"Maybe that's what I want." You shrugged, "It'll save me from all that kiss at midnight bullshit."

Josh pulled the bottle of tequila back, "What's bullshit about wanting to start the new year with a kiss?"

You rolled your eyes and reached out for the bottle which was tucked beneath his arm.

"It doesn't mean anything." You said pointedly, "It's just two body parts smooshed together."

He giggled, the sound of it a familiar comfort that hit you so hard you placed a hand to your chest and felt yourself reel back twenty years to the first day you'd met.

"I fucking missed you, Joshua. You know that?" You nodded, softening to your oldest and dearest friend. "Why the fuck did we go silent on each other?"

Five years ago you'd been standing on the same path. The one the two of you had walked since the day you had met when you jumped out of a U-Haul in the driveway next to his. He'd waved to you enthusiastically, beckoning you over to play with him and his siblings.

"I always thought about you." He confessed, allowing you to slip the bottle out from the nook of his arm. "Would you believe me if I tell you that I was insanely busy and just didn't have the time to keep in touch with anyone?"

You poured yourself another drink. "Sure."

Your shared childhood had cultivated a deep knowledge of each other's nuances. Your sense of humour had always been matched to Josh's with perfect synchronicity. He had been the only man in your life who had ever told you the truth.

He'd been there the first time you fell off your bike. You had witnessed his first fall out of a tree. He'd invited you to all his high school theatre productions, and you'd sat through hours of rehearsals in his parent's garage. He'd hugged you tight the first time a boy had ever hurt you, and he was doing it again in the same place he had done it the first time. His parent's kitchen, in the middle of a New Years Eve party.

"Sure?" He echoed, "I always texted you on your birthday, Didn't I?"

"You did." You agreed, noticing that the bottle in your hand was now empty. "I have approximately five texts from you from the last five years, all of them birthday greetings."

There was an edge of sadness to that fact, one which you both felt as you continued to wrap up what the last five years had meant to you since your paths diverged.

Josh had followed his to Nashville. Yours had taken you to Chicago. Your inevitable visits home never happening at the same time until this night. You'd heard his voice before you saw his face, his cackle of a laugh sounding out across the music and chatter of other old friends and entwined family members.