Page 16 of Black Waters

“Friendship? That what you’re calling this?”

“Damn, Crash, what is your deal tonight? Yes, I’d say we’re becoming friends. Done being butt hurt?”

“No, I’m not. The whole ‘friend’ thing is new to me. I’ll admit that, but I always imagined, if I did have a friend, he wouldn’t stab me in the back.”

One: I was taken back, realizing Crash had never had a friend.

Two: I was trying to understand how I had sabotaged what little trust we’d built.

“Stab you—what are you talking about?”

“Why do you have to take her for ice cream?”

I raised a brow. “Uh, ’cause she likes it?”

“Exactly.”

“What?”

With a restlessness that confused me, Crash stood and began pacing. “You get to act normal with her—enjoy her!” He stopped and glared at me. “I only get to sit here and watch her from afar. All the time, you know how I feel about her.” Crash suddenly went to his knees as if giving up. “I don’t even get to talk to her, man.”

I instantly understood and felt like an asshat. Whit and I were together and talked every day. Any other way would’ve been excruciating and impossible to handle. I would learn this the hard way. I guess that was just my style.

Still on his knees, Crash used his finger to create a familiar design in the ground: my water sign. I had told him water brought me peace. It was what Tim had taught me. I think Crash was searching for peace.

Whitney and I had always prided ourselves on not judging the less fortunate, but my late-night talks with Crash told me I was still doing so. I realized that TV, radio, and peers taught us to examine one’s clothing, hair, tattoos, attitude, and whatever else we didn’t approve of, and then decide whether or not we accepted that person strictly based on their outer appearance.

I claimed to not have judged Crash—or at least not for more than taking my girl from me—but that was a lie. The first moment I saw his leather, tattoos, and hair, I had him pinned to be trouble within five seconds. Yes, it ended up I was right. He was a drug dealer, but not by choice. Selling, surviving was all he knew… until Whitney.

This all had me thinking thoughts I’d never expected. I had a family, a girlfriend, a best friend. Basically, I had a life. The same couldn’t be said about Crash. I think Whit was the only sliver of serenity that life offered him and had now taken away. It must have been like tasting filet mignon and loving it but now only being allowed cardboard to gnaw on.

“I’ll try to be more… considerate,” I said with as much honesty as I could muster.

Crash’s finger stopped doodling. “What do you mean?”

Crash was older than me, but sometimesI felt older, wiser. He had me outwitted when it came to street smarts yet seemed naïve when it came to the simple things so many of us took for granted. “I mean, I have a girlfriend and need to treat her like one.” I texted Connie: I’ll be there tomorrow night and showed Crash my cell. “In fact, I’ll be late tomorrow night. You’ve got first shift.” I slid my cell in my pocket. “I also need to treat my best friend as just that, a friend.”

Crash sat back on his ass and put his head between his legs as if trying to not pass out. “I’m an asshole, I know, but that would help me through this torture.”

I inhaled. “That’s what friends do, right?”

With his head still between his knees, he nodded. “The good ones, Link.”

Later that night, we were both lying on our backs, resting, while watching over the house for any suspicious activity. Crash made me laugh when he said, “Ya know, if anyone were to see us lying under the stars together like this, it could really destroy both our reputations.”

“Poor Constance. She suspects me cheating but is clueless it’s with the likes of you.”

“I knew it!” Crash proclaimed, “You’re into tattoos.”

“Maybe on a naked female.”

Crash cupped his hands together over his mouth to sound like an announcer. “Again, Link shoots Crash down.” Apparently, without Whit knowing it, she had started an ongoing joke. Crash and I laughed into the night.

Connie had texted back, saying she was delighted to soon have my company. I was about to fall asleep when Crash asked, “Why does Franky’s smile talk to your insides?”

Thinking of her smile made me smile. “I’m not sure. When she smiles, there’s a truth to it. You know you did something worthy.” I stopped talking because, for the life of me, I couldn’t think of how to describe perfection.

“No words.” Crash nodded as if he totally understood her magic.