What We Owe to Everyone Else

The scene clears, but still looks dark. I see fuzzy lights in the distance, and the hum of cars passing by. The cold touch of the bench’s metal below me and my bike’s metal in front of me. I reach out and feel comfortable and grounded again, and gather myself. Look around.

Feet planted on the ground, I see the street going in front of me and cars crawling past, being careful of the three way intersection in front of me. I see North Quad dorm and the bell tower in the distance, and feel the cool summer breeze on my warm skin. I blink to clear my vision some more, and slump back on the bench. Another. Bench.

“We keep a theme here, huh?”

Red is hunched over, sitting his bottom on the backside of the bench, and feet where you’re supposed to sit. I crane my neck above a bit, see if he is still shedding tears. Nothing. Just blank. Hand on chin, like the Thinker, expressionless and…

Sad.

I look forward, fiddling with the bike parked to the right of me.

“We like dawdling on campus sometimes.”

“We sure do.”

Cars stop and go every now and then, making turns, sometimes blinding us with their headlights. The parking structure to our left lay empty, maybe one or two people walked by. The streets of Ann Arbor were a little empty this time of year. But it’s serene. Calm. As if the city is telling us to slow down.

Do I ask him? Take the first step? Why are we even here? Which memory is this? How long have we been asleep? Did we oversleep on our alarm? I still have to finish my writing assignment…

“Jeez, do you ever stop thinking? Even in your sleep the anxiety is so loud.”

I twist my head in shock at Red. What?

“Yes. I feel it too. Even though I thought I could bring us here to calm down.”

He steps off the bench now and stretches his arm above him in exhaustion, wincing a little bit.

“Gaahhh augh.” He yawns as he stretches even more. “Man. Keep this up and you’ll just wake up, still aimless as ever.”

“Where are we?” I cut to the chase. I’m tired. We were just yelling at each other mere moments ago and now, an eternity of silence passed and I can’t tell–

“The day Eesha left.”

My heart goes cold. Chills run up my spine. The lump in my throat, reminiscent of that day, returns. And now I know. Maybe I regret asking.

Red looks down, hands in his pockets. He looks back at me, almost as if the moment has zapped him of all the energy he had too. He looks on, piercing onto my eyes, as if he understands.

The scene blurs. My face turns wet and cold. Huh? I blink to clear my vision, and my hands below me catch water. O-oh. I’m–

“Me too… me too.”

I don’t know how long it's been since I last saw Eesha. Our best friend.

Memories come flooding back. That night I stayed over at her place so I could take her to an early flight, using her car to drive her there. Groggy eyes, hugging goodbye, and parking the car back in front of her place before the sun rose.

The time we interviewed another student for a position on the podcast we ran together, as part of the school newspaper. She was sick and stayed home, so we did the interview over Zoom. And despite having only known her for a few weeks at that point, I felt at peace. I wasn’t angry or upset, I remember feeling bad for her, wishing my friend was here next to me, but understanding all the same.

The time her parents took us and another one of her friends out to lunch after graduation. Or, what was supposed to be my graduation too. But, still – we were dressed up, snacking on pizza, laughing through pictures taken together on my camera, and asking her parents about their memories of their time at Michigan.

I can’t stop. Sniffling, I turn my hands around in my lap, palm-side up, now wet with tears. The shaking. It engulfs me.

“We weren’t made to say goodbye.”

Red says, as he looks up towards the stars. 

I remember those words. It’s what I kept repeating to myself this night, when Eesha left. When I waved bye to her driving off, and I wasn’t going to be here on her actual last day. Eventually, she’d drive me home to Detroit in another day or so and say her last goodbye there. But this was our last actual night in the places we made the most memories. 

“I love you.” With the biggest smile on her face, pulling the car out of the driveway, as she’s struggling to hold back tears. What was I supposed to do without her? Who would I go to when I had a stressful day? Who would I stress over the Lions’ season with now? Who would I share dramatic stories with, lying on the ground of her apartment, feeling more at peace than I would be at my own apartment?

“I love you too.” I could barely get it out. I try to hide my sullen face with a forced smile.

She giggles back and says, “It’s okay! We’ll see each other again soon!” She always knew how to keep it light, how to keep that megawatt smile going. I can’t imagine her face without her smile on it. I can’t imagine comfort and her demeanor separating.

…

It’s been 6 months since then. And counting…

“Do you think she’d like seeing us how we are?”

I snap out of my memories, and up at him,  teary-eyed with surprise. “No, of course not, I-”

“With how we’re ruminating on all this? On Korea? On our anxiety? On how badly we crashed tonight, without her? This wasn’t even the last time we said bye, this was just our last day in Ann Arbor together.”

Red has his eyes closed now, denying the stars his eyes. He looks down at the ground, as I have done these past few moments, seemingly succumbing to the weight we both feel.

“What’s this have to do with Korea?” I don’t know what to tell him now. I feel almost moved with how emotionally wrecked he is too. But I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s me. “She’d hate how we’re stuck on this, with how we keep going back and forth.”

“Then why are YOU okay with it?”

He stares daggers at me now. Another silence. I can’t break the stare. 

“Because…” My mouth moves before I can even think about it.

“Because we can write about it. So we could write.”

“Again with this writing oh my god, why are we treating ourselves worse than. And then hiding it from our friends only to display it like a trophy. What’s the point? Why?”

Displaying it like a trophy? I can only write after it happens, I never intend on this torture just so I have something to write about. It’s never an accomplishment.

This is just a game to him, isn’t it? He’s mocking me, isn’t he? Appealing to my friends. The ones I love. The ones I’ll do anything for. He thinks he’ll get through to me like this. By bringing me here. 

No. I won’t play your games. You can’t trick me.

I stood up, tears now stopped, hands curled into fists. I don’t break his stare, with furrowed brows now.

“I’m not gonna let you get to me.”

Red looks a little shocked, almost in disbelief at my sudden conviction. “What is this, you think I’m messing with you?”

“Give me one reason why you wouldn’t be. Because you keep messing me with this game, and I’m over it, because I know I’m right, and you’re wrong.”

His shoulders slump, and lowers his gaze, as if disappointed. I almost believe it. He continues, “What game man? Why do you not take me seriously?”

The breeze feels stronger now. A little colder. “Because all you do is torture me, criticize me, hurt me.”

His face furrows back at me. His lips tighten. The wind blows stronger now, knocking my bike over. The streetlights of the night flicker in the distance. They buzz and hum.

“I do it because you need it.”

“Oh, I need this, do I? I need to be tortured?” I snark back. My hair brushes past my face in the wind. I remember Korea. I remember this. I don’t need it. I’m too tired, too drained, too charged up for this.

“You’re a hypocrite! You’re doing this to us, too!” He shouts against the wind now. I can’t hear him. I don’t bother to. All I can think about is how much I hate this. These moments. Him, doing this to us.

Some of the street lights burst, glass shattering onto the ground around us. I feel a fire in me.

“I don’t need you.” I yell against the howling wind. I can barely stand, but I lurch forward, throwing my fist. Now I’m seeing red.