[william]

1999.

My wife and I are out celebrating her birthday. We're at the theater when my beeper begins to vibrate. It's my mother. My beeper goes off again.

Intermission comes and I go and stand in line for a payphone. My beeper's gone off four times and by now I'm shaking. I can't remember my calling card number. I try and try but I keep on fucking up. I have a little sister who lives with my mom and I miss her so. Not a day goes that I don't ache for not being with her as she grows up.

There's a old guy in a suit on line behind me and he's getting impatient. I ignore him.

I finally connect with my mother and she's crying.

"What happened?" I ask and I think the worst. My sister.

"Michael's dead" she says.

"What?"

"Michael. Your cousin. He's dead."

And then the details. There was some sort of car accident. He died.

He was seventeen. He was bright. Inquisitive. Artful. He loved Halen post Lee Roth. Played Nintendo. Nowadays hed be on the net, maybe even here.

I make my way back to my seat and kiss my wife.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Nothing," I tell her, not wanting to ruin her night. "It's not important. I'll tell you later."

That evening I take the last bus out to Jersey. Our entire family's gathering. I come from a large family and everyone is flying in. Seventeen. 1999. Were gonna party Prom. Senior trip. College. For months after they get mail with his name on it. At the funeral, as the coffin passes, I reach out and touch the box, knowing hes no longer with us, but in my heart and mind I say good-bye, and once again I pray that Im wrong and that one day well meet again.

There are three of us on the bus, then just myself and the driver. He asks me where I'm going and then drops me off a little closer.

Bad mistake. It's night. Wintertime and I don't know the area.

As the bus pulls away I begin to walk in the dark and head in the direction he told me and soon realize I'm lost.

I go back to where I was left off, A "main road" - if there are such things in the deep suburb - and begin to walk, passing homes with dim porch lights glowing. It's cold. Winter cold. Should I knock on a door? Would you open your door to a stranger?

After a while I find a payphone. There's a taxi service sticker and so I call the number. I don't know where I am, just the town and the street. You would think it would be enough but somehow the service has no idea where I'm at. "There's no street by that name in that town." Fuck! Where did the bus driver leave me? I could call my aunt's house but that's not how I do things. I take care of myself. Have for years and I don't ask favors of anyone. It drives my wife and friends crazy but it hurts me, makes me feel ashamed - to ask for help.

A life cut short. That afternoon he borrowed the car. Later we find out he turned too quickly, too fast. I think the trees still there. Ive never dared ask.

So I start to walk. I'm freezing and I look up at the sky. Stars like you never see in the city. I'm at the top of an incline and near the bottom, in the distance; I think I see a gas station. I can't tell. A half hour's walk - maybe.

I'm cold and yet it's so beautiful. It's a night that I know I'll never forget. I'm shivering - it's so cold. But I take care of myself. No one needs to help me.

But then, as I wait for a car to pass by I hear my name. "William?" And inside it's one of my cousins. I come from a large family.

"Hi." I say.

"What are you doing here?!" She asks.

"Going to ____."

That evening my little adventure brings a smile to some, making it all worthwhile.

Seventeen.

Later. And this I've shared with few - and to me it's the saddest part - it's what I meant to write about - something so personal happens that I'd rather not post it publicly for there are people I love who I'd rather not have them know. PM me if you're read this far and I'll let you know.