All the people I kinda-sorta knew

The boy who loved knives a little too much

Definitely one of the worst influences in my life. Of course, I loved him. Rather, my poor teenage brain, starved for affection as it was, thought I did. That’s always how it works, isn’t it? The minute one person shows us basic decency, we decide we’re in love.

Anyway I loved him but that isn’t what is important about him. But it is, because this is how I knew him, and when I knew him I loved him. He didn’t love me. That was fine. He tolerated me, and even bothered to talk to me occasionally, and I took what I could get. He taught me a bit about how to fight. There was one memorable time we were nestled together in the back seat of a van, our drunk friend laying giggling next to us, when he taught me to flip a butterfly knife. I dropped it. Of course I did. We thought it was the funniest thing ever. At 1 am when we’d both had too little sleep and too much sugar, and maybe a little bit of some things we weren’t supposed to have had, it was funny.

He was he best knife fighter I’d ever met, though, that’s not saying much as he was also the only knife fighter I’d ever met. But I was young and he was just so cool. And I was in love. So of course the day he came in with blood running down his leg and told me he couldn’t go to the hospital, I fixed it. I fixed it with a basic first aid certification, 3 steri-strips, and some sunshine yellow sports tape. The scar wasn’t pretty, but he lived. The next time he came in, I fixed his hand. The time after that, his shoulder.

He was going to be a bartender. Had been hanging around bars his whole life. Somehow managed to get by without angering any of the gangs around him. He liked mixing drinks. The flavor was interesting to him. Despite the fact he was only 15, he still occasionally served drinks to make a bit of extra cash. He probably would’ve made a good chef if that’s what he put his mind to.

Of course he gave up his dreams and of course he gave them up for a girl. She was pretty and broken and they helped put each other back together. He gave up his dreams and started an internship with a mechanic, so he could get a decent job. An honest job. What she wanted him to do. They were going to get married. He stopped fighting. I suppose that was good. I think he missed it though.

I haven’t heard from either of them since they broke up. I know she posts sad song lyrics on instagram with beautiful photography. I haven’t heard anything from him. Haven’t heard from his family. I lost touch with his best friend when his friend when back to rehab, long before I lost touch with him.

I hope he found someone else to patch up his scars. God knows he needs someone to do it, but I moved away and he always refused to go to the hospital. Sometimes I wonder how he’s doing. Sometimes I wonder if he’s still alive. Sometimes I want to pick up my phone and see how he’s doing. I never do. Maybe I’m too scared of the answer.