Parker

I’ve known Parker since he was five. His family moved into the neighborhood, house number nineteen on the corner, my favorite number. We became close over the years, living life next to each other. Growing up with someone can be bittersweet. I used to know everything that was going on in his life. The two of us talked on every day, we were best friends. I always found joy empathetically through our relationship. If Parker was happy, I was happy.

Fifteen years had passed before I picked up on any distancing between us. It was about a year ago when he really started to struggle. It was like he was drowning in his head, and I could tell. I couldn’t do anything about it as he shut himself away and closed me out. I just watched a piece of me unravel from a distance and it ripped my heart out. He would be exhausted all day but when it came time to finally rest, he couldn’t keep his eyes closed. Any sleep Parker was able to get was his only escape from reality. Eating seemed to be an even harder chore. I had no idea why I had to bear witness without being given the chance to be there for him. I had never felt so helpless. I saw the direct relationship between hope and getting let down.

The day finally came when Parker and I were able to reconnect. He told me all of what had happened to him. He filled me in on how he was trying to cope and why I got left to collect dust. The disappointment that filled his eyes was deeper than I’ll ever know. His Grandfather had gone missing. Family and friends hadn’t heard from him in months and no evidence was leading to his discovery.

Parker had been wrongly accused of playing a role in his Grandfather’s disappearance and his family began to turn on him. Moving out and into his own place seemed to be the only option to find some peace. The place was small but provided Parker with the security he longed to feel. I was there to help him through the court proceedings and it was within me he found his only alibi and ally for that matter. I knew Parker better than anyone and I could see the pain wash over his face as he was convicted as an accomplice. I didn’t know today would be the last time my best friend would talk to me.

There isn’t much to do these days. Seems like a stationary life has begun to grow on me like moss ever since Parker was convicted. I’ve never been one to necessarily love exposure, to begin with, eyes that pierce through me, or barely acknowledge me, but I do miss the simplicities found in the human touch. Being held by someone who just loves you dearly. I miss that comfort and warmth. I miss Parker.

Darkness blankets my home broken only by limited hours of light that seem so desperate to be felt. The drapes wilt when the sun sets and I can see the dust settling in its last ray. Why bother to sweep up history? The heat of the sun hits my face and promises it’ll be back tomorrow. The wind whistles a drafty tune from under the door. I see a shadow approach accompanied by soft footsteps. A check silently slides into my entryway and comes to a graceful stop. From what I can see, it’s a check made out to Parker for $20,000 from his Grandfather. But what do I know, I’m just a little black notebook.