I never did get good at fighting
In your brother's old bedroom there was a hole in the wall or a giant faded painting or writing. Something I never really saw and you explained it once but I can no longer hold the story in my hands.
We watched Animal House late one night in your bedroom when you used to sleep upstairs. It wasn't the version you usually saw on TV. I think the boobs made you feel uncomfortable when I was sitting right next to you. I don't know how late it was when I left. We were in high school then.
When I turned 19 I stubbed my toe really bad in Canada on my first ever drinking binge. I remember ice cubes. You bought me a ring. I don't know if I got sick or not but the next day I didn't want to eat anything at all. We were supposed to leave but I decided I wanted to stay. When you dropped me off at my house in Bothell I wouldn't let you kiss me goodbye.
When you moved downstairs I showed up once, 4am, pouring rain. I had a habit of doing that to you. Showing up just when you didn't want me to. You let me come in anyway and your mom thought maybe I was homeless.
Once, we went bowling out of cars in parking lots and it wasn't nearly as fun as hollywood makes those sorts of things look. Once we took a shopping cart and you pushed Sally all the way up to our house on Lakeway in Bellingham but you hit a curb and she flew out of the cart. We were too drunk to really care.
We sat on the edge of the big yellow dump truck at the construction site covered in mud and talked about Jesus back when I used to believe. I never wanted to save you. I think we both liked it like that. Your mom would make us hose off out front before coming inside. In retrospect, it makes sense that she thought I was homeless.
Random places I can think of: The car outside of the ice cream stand near the tulip fields. The driftwood fort. Sally's bed. The bench behind the cop station. Your front yard.
We climbed the roof of that elementary school a million times. We would just sit and watch all the lights or play ninja. Sometimes we would bring other people. Sometimes we would not. Sometimes we would drive just to get lost. You would try to teach me how to unfocus my eyes and blur the lights. You have always had perfect vision.
When your mom found your art folder once we went through it and I watched you grow smaller. Somehow you never felt good enough or validated. You have so much talent.
Drunk as shit, walking to the Bothell house from Jordan's one night, and we just yelled at one another in the rain. What an odd puzzle. What strange pieces. How close they can come to fitting. How far apart they can be.
Once, you could walk up the stairs on your hands. Once, you told me to go downstairs and you showed me how to make music on your computer while we were carving pumpkins. I made a song and came up to keep carving. Inside the pumpkin, you had asked me to a high school dance. I wore combat boots. I doubt I danced. We all change so much.
Shivering in the downpour we got stuck in at the ice caves one year I remember thinking that I wanted to kiss you. I did not.
Sitting on your front porch when it was finally, actually, definitely over and I remember thinking that I wanted to kiss you. I did not.
When we were in Spanish class together you tricked the teacher once by hiding in the cabinet. James tricked you by locking the cabinet with his calculator so you couldn't get out. Finally, James got up and crossed the room mumbling that he needed to get his calculator and you came tumbling out onto the floor. I can't remember what the class thought.
Whenever we drove to get lost, we always ended up in the right place.
We watched Animal House late one night in your bedroom when you used to sleep upstairs. It wasn't the version you usually saw on TV. I think the boobs made you feel uncomfortable when I was sitting right next to you. I don't know how late it was when I left. We were in high school then.
When I turned 19 I stubbed my toe really bad in Canada on my first ever drinking binge. I remember ice cubes. You bought me a ring. I don't know if I got sick or not but the next day I didn't want to eat anything at all. We were supposed to leave but I decided I wanted to stay. When you dropped me off at my house in Bothell I wouldn't let you kiss me goodbye.
When you moved downstairs I showed up once, 4am, pouring rain. I had a habit of doing that to you. Showing up just when you didn't want me to. You let me come in anyway and your mom thought maybe I was homeless.
Once, we went bowling out of cars in parking lots and it wasn't nearly as fun as hollywood makes those sorts of things look. Once we took a shopping cart and you pushed Sally all the way up to our house on Lakeway in Bellingham but you hit a curb and she flew out of the cart. We were too drunk to really care.
We sat on the edge of the big yellow dump truck at the construction site covered in mud and talked about Jesus back when I used to believe. I never wanted to save you. I think we both liked it like that. Your mom would make us hose off out front before coming inside. In retrospect, it makes sense that she thought I was homeless.
Random places I can think of: The car outside of the ice cream stand near the tulip fields. The driftwood fort. Sally's bed. The bench behind the cop station. Your front yard.
We climbed the roof of that elementary school a million times. We would just sit and watch all the lights or play ninja. Sometimes we would bring other people. Sometimes we would not. Sometimes we would drive just to get lost. You would try to teach me how to unfocus my eyes and blur the lights. You have always had perfect vision.
When your mom found your art folder once we went through it and I watched you grow smaller. Somehow you never felt good enough or validated. You have so much talent.
Drunk as shit, walking to the Bothell house from Jordan's one night, and we just yelled at one another in the rain. What an odd puzzle. What strange pieces. How close they can come to fitting. How far apart they can be.
Once, you could walk up the stairs on your hands. Once, you told me to go downstairs and you showed me how to make music on your computer while we were carving pumpkins. I made a song and came up to keep carving. Inside the pumpkin, you had asked me to a high school dance. I wore combat boots. I doubt I danced. We all change so much.
Shivering in the downpour we got stuck in at the ice caves one year I remember thinking that I wanted to kiss you. I did not.
Sitting on your front porch when it was finally, actually, definitely over and I remember thinking that I wanted to kiss you. I did not.
When we were in Spanish class together you tricked the teacher once by hiding in the cabinet. James tricked you by locking the cabinet with his calculator so you couldn't get out. Finally, James got up and crossed the room mumbling that he needed to get his calculator and you came tumbling out onto the floor. I can't remember what the class thought.
Whenever we drove to get lost, we always ended up in the right place.
i really like this.
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