You would buy a case of Keystone Light and a bottle of Captain on the way home from the shop every Friday night. Adam’s Auto Body on Main Street, the second place we both applied when we graduated high school and seven years later we were still there.

No other place would hire us. Bear Hill Auto in Clark Summit said we seemed unreliable. We laughed about that years later because we were so loyal to Adam’s that it hurt. We came home with black hands. We smelled like car engines. We looked like flat tires by the end of the week and it was just another thing no one understood. Doing the same thing every day with the same people, working your ass off to prove how solid of a man you are.

It was the best thing about the week. Those Friday nights when the cold beer fell down our throats and we complained about those old grumpy men, our pay, our early mornings and late nights. You would light a cigarette and unwind your long legs on my couch and make yourself comfortable because neither of us was leaving. You always ended up complaining about Meg when we were done bitching about the other stuff. She was always telling you the same thing. She was going to leave if you didn’t start to clean up your act.

The last Friday you came over we were drunk by nine. You told me Meg was all talk and did this funny impression of her whining and throwing her hands in the air. Then you threw a bag of coke from inside your jean pocket on the coffee table. Forget about her. Let’s party. 

There was a show on TV about big unusual fish that lived in dark green rivers. By the time it ended, our noses were red and runny, and you were laughing and howling like some drunken clown.

I bent over and tried to inhale the last of the powder. My face was numb and I held up my hands and looked over at you. I’m done.

You’re a pussy, Chad, you said and smiled.

That smile, I was so happy it wasn’t mine. Your two front teeth were crooked. They were yellow from all the coffee you drank and all the chain smoking you did. I had nice white Chiclet teeth and teeth like mine were something the everyday person noticed. A smile people remembered.

Once you finished the coke and there wasn’t much else to talk about, you went back home to Meg since we both knew she was waiting up.

I always did the same thing after you left. I stretched out on the couch and imagined having someone who cared about me like that. A woman who wanted to be in charge, but could never get a real handle on me.

I should have been a better friend.

I should have left with you from the bar that next night.

It was Jonathan’s surprise party at Chet’s on Saturday and you hadn’t stopped drinking since Friday night. You stumbled through with Meg on your arm two hours after the party started. She’d found you down the road at Stone Bridge and dragged your sorry ass to your friend’s party but wasn’t going to let you drink any more.

That was the first night I felt sorry for her. Tears were about to spill from those sad brown eyes as she begged you to stop drinking.

But pretty soon you were yelling at each other on the side porch. I stood inside by the foosball table, looking through the window and watching the entire thing. Meg jabbed her skinny finger in your chest while her eyes went big and her top teeth sunk into her bottom lip after every word she yelled. Then you grabbed that finger, bent it backwards until she let out a little yelp. She shoved you with her free hand and there you went stumbling backwards. That’s when you yelled loud and rough after gaining balance again. Fuck you! Fuck this!

You ran off the porch, climbed into your truck and peeled out of the parking lot.

I walked outside and I swear it was just to see where you were going and what Meg said that had pissed you off. Her arms were around my neck as soon as my feet hit the porch though. I didn’t know what to do so I ran my hand up her back, trying to console her. Her spine felt like it was going to snap in half.

Meg pressed her bony waist into mine and I asked where you were off to. Fuck Brendan, she said as if she’d been waiting to say that one line her entire life.

I should have been a better friend.

Our tongues were fast and twisting together seconds later. Meg’s ass was pressed against the porch railing and I was thrusting my hips into her. Between kisses she said all sorts of things about how horrible you were and how she’d always thought I was the better one. But I didn’t pay much attention to what she was saying because she tasted that good.

Soon, we were climbing into my truck. Meg took off her clothes then stripped away mine. Her knees were rubbing against the seat as we ripped into each other. I heard Johnny Cash playing from inside the bar. I smelled cigarettes in Meg’s blonde curly hair and lime on her breath and I smelled my own sweat from my underarms and realized I hadn’t showered since Friday morning. I felt like you. Stuck in layers of dirty skin.

When it was over, we sat there hot and naked. I pictured you dead in a ditch somewhere or crying and lonely back in your apartment. That’s what got me. You alive and helpless with no one there to ask what was wrong, no one there to listen to your bitching.

I turned towards Meg. Her knees were red and raw like someone had dragged her across a rug.

You gotta get out, I told her.

What?

Leave. Get out.

Fuck you, she said as she slid on her jeans and pulled her white t-shirt back on. She leaned in before climbing out. You’re just like him. You’re both shit.

Something moved inside my stomach as I watched Meg walk back into the bar. It felt like a worm was burrowing into my bladder. I put my clothes back on, except for my jeans, and drove home, trying to forget about what Meg said.

I wished you were there after I showered, cleaned myself up and lay down on the couch. We’d drink some more beer and talk about things only we understood. But we wouldn’t talk about what just happened. Meg’s dry skin on my fingertips. Her long tongue sliding along mine. Her banged up knees.

When I showed up to the shop on Monday morning you were standing outside the garage. I could see your left hand trembling while the other was hidden behind your back as I stepped out of the truck. I felt dumber than you then. Of course someone would spray the truth all over town. Maybe it was Meg, who probably felt guilty. Meg, who thought we were both shit so why did she care anyways?

Your eyes were looking up at me even though your head was aimed down.

Why? you asked.  

I decided to deny it. Convince you it was someone who looked like me. Some guy from out of town who fled right after.

Why what?

Why are you such a piece of shit?

You moved towards me, reeking of booze. I saw you were crying and I wanted to cry too and tell you how something came over me and I didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was the way Meg’s eyes turned vicious that night. Or maybe it was you. Your smelly breath and bad skin and horrible teeth.

With your right hand you swung a wrench at my head. I had time to duck and backed away with every step you took.

You’ll never see me again, you said.

I stopped backpedaling even though you could have hit me across the face, knocked my teeth out for good. Don’t say that, I said.

You dropped the wrench and ran behind the garage. I heard your truck start and you nearly ran me over as you flew out of the lot.

But I should have been a better friend.

I should have laid under the tires and let your wheels crush my bones.

Word has it, Meg left you and moved to Carbondale with her mother.

And just a few weeks ago one of the guys from the shop said he went by your apartment after you stopped showing up to work. A note was found in your bedroom with a picture of you and Meg from five years ago. The note was in your tiny, horrible handwriting.

I’m gone for good. Good luck to all you fuckers.

Yours Truly,
Brendan

Some say you’re probably waiting for the next full moon to drive to the Nicholson Bridge and jump. Land with a cracked skull and wait for someone to find your body in the road the next morning. But I know better than anyone. If we’re waiting for you to die, you’ll do the opposite and outlive every single person in Susquehanna County.

Sometimes I get so riled up, I convince myself that you should have been a better friend. Because you left me alone on Friday nights, downing shots of Captain like it’s water and searching for that powder Meg and I always told you to quit.

Except I usually settle down and end up wondering if I should leave this place and go searching for you. And when I find you, you’ll be so surprised because I’ll have let my teeth rot. I’ll look just like you.