Unabashed

One of my best friends in high school died about two weeks ago. I just found out, so I guess I won’t be attending the funeral that happened ten days ago. He was a character in the first story I ever wrote. He introduced me to Jim Beam, and to Luther, the local bootlegger (yes, they still exist if you know where to look) who told me to “shut your skinny ass up before somebody calls the cops!” He had a car and was driving (illegally) when he was fifteen, so we rode with him everywhere. We being: Me, Jeff (still my best friend today), Willie (died in a car accident when we were 18), Sean (who killed Willie and is now a pariah), and Pig (the indomitable one. Perhaps the most unique person I know even now.) Aubrey was his name.

It was in the backseat of Aubrey’s little car that I kissed my wife for the first time. At his house where I made out with her for the first time–his mom was a waitress and worked nights, so I spent the night with him virtually every weekend. He was one of my best friends for years. I loved him like a brother. I’m sorry he went down the way he did (drank himself to death). I went to his mom’s house right before my first son was born (2004) to try to find him, but she couldn’t give me directions and couldn’t get him on the phone and I haven’t heard from him since. The last time I saw him was about eight years ago at a store, and he seemed truly happy to see me. I can say now that I was happy to see him, too.

Time to think about mortality and get bluesy for a little while. Have a beer, pretend I bought it for you, and listen to a little Chris Knight with me for a minute, would you? It’s one of the only modern country songs I can listen to without wanting to kill the person singing it; it’s really more funny than sad. Anyway. G’night.

written by Matt Mitchell