My mother and I were surprised by the doorbell. It was late for company. I flicked on the porch light and discovered two people hunched under jackets in the pouring rain. The first turned out to be a family friend who routinely drops by to check on my mother. It took a moment for the second visitor and me to connect the dots. That’s understandable since we hadn’t seen each other in 30 years. Like me, she happened to be in town visiting relatives and on a whim decided to join our mutual friend for the evening.

It was awkward. I wasn’t expecting a jolt from my past. That long stretch of excess hormones, liquor, vehicle stunts, and countless other things sometimes referred to as “Early Adulthood”. A time when I lurched from one escapade to the next, piling up missed opportunities like empty beer cans. Generally I try my best to avoid the “Hey, remember the night when you _________?” conversations. But the facts are the facts and occasionally you can’t hide from them. She was there for most of the important parts. A witness and sometimes participant in the good and bad, the inane and insane.

I said “Hi”

She said, “Nice to see you”.

Like I said awkward. Until that old twinkle appeared in her eyes.

We spent the next two hours telling war stories, oblivious to my mother and her friend. She remembered a lot more than I did. Like the time we got all dressed up and crashed the Rotary Club Presidents reception. Bullshitting the adults, as we scarfed crustless sandwiches and pounded back the free booze. It was a hell of a party. There was the night we dumped her passed-out sister in the apartment building hall and refused to open the door after someone pulled the fire alarm. We eventually let her in and barracaded ourselves in the bathroom while she vowed to kill us and threw ashtrays at the door. There were the cars and the races. The times we met to compare notes after dropping off our respective girlfriends and boyfriends. Staying up till dawn talking and listening to music. She liked Santana and the Guess Who and could tell if a cylinder was running rich by looking at a spark plug. Our benefits were all in the friendship. There was no messy stuff to get in the way. Maybe that’s what made it special. …and in case you’re wondering, she was no tomboy.

One night near the end we took off, running fast as the car would go out to her father’s bungalow in Mira. (That’s a cottage to you mainlanders) It was late fall and everything was closed up for the season. We stood on the end of the dock drinking rum and Cokes in the moonlight. Bright enough to see our breath in the crisp air and the chop on the river as the tide ran out. I remember thinking that if this was the best life had to offer, I’d take it. I’ve upped the ante many times since, but it was still one of those moments that never leave you.

Ultimately, fate blew us apart.

 

We covered a lot of old ground and some recent history before she slipped out the door with a wave. Later I felt like an idiot for missing a last chance to thank her for being such a special person. She was there when it mattered and she made a difference. A big difference.

But then, she already knows that. She was always smarter than me.

Ciao Babe.