|
The Last Five Minutes
-by Beau Burriola
Five minutes left…
I was starting to get nervous.
The champagne was chilled and smiling faces were all around me. The restaurant was packed and I
looked around for you. You'd be here… I just knew it.
Many friends had gathered for me, I have so much to be thankful for. Still, I couldn't help but
look around for you.
Four minutes to go…
Nervousness turned into contemplation. I looked at the candle on the table and tuned out of the
chatter around me.
Do you remember when we used to sit and have long rambling conversations about the universe? I used
to admire the way you looked at the world with the eyes of a dreamer, with so much vitality and
hope. I thought we'd always be close friends because of that endless energy you carried around
you.
Three minutes…
Then one day life got complicated for you when you got involved with meth. Slowly I watched you
change into someone I don't recognize.
For two years now you've drifted into this deeper and darker place. The life in your eyes has
gradually drained away, you rarely smile anymore and you always seem so angry. Now you do things
that maybe you don't realize cause hurt more and more often. Sometimes it seems like you've lost
the ability to care about anything, but I'm always there because I know it isn't you. I know you…
underneath it all you are such a different person.
People don't believe me because they don't know you like I know you. I know you'll be here.
Two minutes…
The waiter began to pour champagne around the table while I began thinking about what I'm going to
say for the toast… here, just now… with two minutes left. When I couldn't think of what to say, I
looked around for you again, and then back at the candle.
Every day that goes by I find myself feeling more and more hopeless. How can I provide enough hope
for my closest friends when I still have to decide what I want to be in my own life? I've got my
own future to worry about. Every time you struggle, every couple of days you disappear, every time
I call and call and call just to say that I believe in you and all I hear is ringing, I begin to
wonder why I bother.
One minute…
When my cell phone rang just as we began to lift our glasses, my heart both rose and fell into my
stomach. I knew … I didn't have to look, I knew it was you because you weren't there. I managed to
say hello, hoping maybe you'd gotten lost, but for the next thirty seconds, with a blank look on my
face, I just nodded at your ridiculous and transparent lie.
In two long years of this battle I only ever asked one thing of you. You've known for a long time
that this would be a big night for me. I didn't want gifts and I didn't want a fuss. All I wanted,
instead of any stupid material thing in the world, was just for you to be there for one night with
me and the closest people in my life. Five minutes and a champagne toast was all I asked in two
years of busting my ass to try to help you in every way I can in your fight against meth.
Thirty seconds…
In a few defeated and angry breaths, my decision became final. The last five minutes of our
longtime friendship taught me a very difficult lesson. When being a twenty-something gay boy means
seeing your social circle being eaten by meth again and again, you learn that sometimes just being
there is enough to help people through.
The corollary lesson, the harder lesson is that sometimes you just can't help and sometimes you
just have to let go.
5…4…3…2…1…
… gone .
|
