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five years old and throwing the football around your best friend’s yard. the sun is bright and you have to squint to see him, but he’s there, smiling the smile with the two missing teeth that he knocked out when you were climbing the tree in your backyard and you said look, jay, no hands! and he tried to show you he could do it too but he couldn’t.
he throws the ball to you but you don’t catch it and you say come on, jay, that was a terrible throw!
just you wait, he says, i’m gonna be a dillon panther when i grow up and you say oh, sure you are.
you’ll be right by my side, he says, and you smile.
—
seven years old and there’s a u-haul truck in the driveway when you walk home with billy.
what’s going on? you ask, but he doesn’t know either. your mom walks out of the house and you say mama what’s happening?
she says oh it’s nothing, timmy, we’re just moving some things, but twelve minutes later she gets into her car and drives away and doesn’t come back.
dad drinks a lot that night and he throws things and it’s scary and you hide under the bed but billy is there to protect you.
—
nine years old and billy’s talking about golf scholarships and you don’t know what that means but you know that golf is boring and that billy wants to go to college.
please don’t go, you say, because you need someone to protect you from the monster who drinks too much and yells too loud.
you don’t think he’s going to listen.
—
ten years old and dad’s gone, packed up his stuff and left in the middle of the night, beers gone from the fridge and money taken from the secret spot underneath the ottoman in the living room that you’re not supposed to know about.
billy is mad, he cusses like dad does when he drinks too much, and now you’re scared that a new monster could start to throw things and yell at you.
life is scarier than it’s ever been before.
—
twelve years old and every weekend is spent at jay’s house, because at jay’s house there’s no overdue bills and no broken air conditioning system and no brother bringing home his girlfriend-of-the-week to make out on the couch.
jay has a playstation and you play madden 2003 and eat chocolate chip cookies that his mom made for you and forget about the rest of the world and things are pretty okay.
—
thirteen years old and you and jay each sneak a beer from the fridge and jason drinks it slow but you chug it as fast as you can before billy gets home. you throw it up half an hour later and jay says i told you so.
—
fourteen years old and you’re on the team. they say your names on the radio, jay more than you, but it’s fine because he deserves it. he’s 6 and you’re 33 and you go over to his house every tuesday for dinner and things are good.
—
fifteen years old and your best friend is paralyzed and it’s your fault your fault all your fault.
you watch the tape and you watch the tape and you watch the tape again.
you have to go see him, lyla says, and screw you, lyla, you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.
it’s raining when you kiss her and you know you shouldn’t but she’s pretty and soft and lovely and warm and you think you might be falling in love with her, but holy crap, if jay finds out…
and then he does and things are bad, so bad, and really, why can’t you just be five years old again?