Ardor

Thirteen: What We Can't Have

Freddy's body has jostled free too many memories of a more innocent time and I find myself lost in a tidal wave of remembering.

I recall all the times that I referred to him as Freako Freddy to my 'friends'.

All the times I shunned someone who wasn't from my circle.

All the times I complied to every little social pressure that grazed my shoulders.

All the times I went out with popular girls just for the show of it.

All the times I disobeyed my family just for the hell of it, just so I could keep my social status guaranteed.

But popularity is never guaranteed. The existence of hierarchies does not insist that one person stay on top, just that there always is that one person. I watched plenty of kids go from the top to rock-bottom, just because the group decided they should be.

I was always granted immunity for two reasons: (a) my family is--was, a big deal so everyone was careful to stay on our good side (b) I was one of the originals guys.

It was always me, Gabe Keller, Jake Coleman, Zach Bryer, and Brooks Alexander. Kobe had his own group, but we were close allies. Highschool is a battlefield and we were the richest, smartest, funniest, snobbiest, most athletic of them all. Everyone wanted to be us, and for the most part we typically enjoyed that, but everyone has their demons to deal with.

Gabe's parents were constantly fighting over visitation rights between him and his brother, even though the court had already ruled.

Jake had a second cousin with cancer. That was the second case in his family and he was always paranoid about testing positive on the test his mother made him get once a year.

Zach's parents were always pushing him to be better than the best, even though he was captain of both the basketball and football teams.

Brooks just didn't get along with his mom too well. They argued all the time and disagreed on everything, which constantly left him emotionally exhausted.

And me, well, I just didn't connect to my own family. Maybe it was because my mom was selfish, maybe because my dad was a tyrant, maybe because my sister was a tramp.

We were the guys who got all the girls, all the attention, all the love. Our teachers adored us, our peers adored us. We had it all.

One sports season faded into another and we rode the waves of athletic stardom. We were legends at school. I never realized how much I enjoyed the cushion of popularity until now. In my mind I always secretly hated it. I never had any real friends.

But now I can't help wondering...what if I was kidding myself?

My heart aches for those times. I hadn't realized how lucky and even possibly happy I was until I had nothing. 

I didn't realize how messed up I was until the world kept crumbling down, and I was left with my own thoughts and feelings. Now my only company is a kid who doesn't even really like me and my messed up mind.

We always want what we can't have. 

It suddenly occurs to me that Kobe and I should have tried to bury more people than just Freddy. But he was more symbolic I guess, standing for everyone we didn't find. At least that's what I tell myself. I already have enough grief and guilt weighing my shoulders down. If I survive this I am going to have the worst posture ever.

Braces cemented to my teeth and permanently hunched shoulders. I will be even more attractive in the future, so watch out ladies.

The guilt of my lie--the one about the bunker--is starting to kick in. We could have been safe down there, but instead my stupid, selfish instincts kicked in and another lie was born. One that could kill us. I mean, eventually the bunker would probably collapse, but it would have kept us safe for a while. I should tell Kobe right now. We could still turn back, but I know myself well enough that I won't say a word. 

The world is not supposed to be a silent place, but here we are, the comforts of cacophony gone from the atmosphere. Kobe doesn't want to talk. He's still in shock about Freddy. I guess I am too, but I've reinforced my ribs, caged in my heart from the start. 

My armor makes me stronger, but twice as cold. I'm scared I'll be stuck as unfeeling as I am right now forever. But I can't make it go away, not yet, because in doing so I know I would crumble like a pillar of sand. There is no substance but the emotional chain mail that holds me together. I know I should snap out of it. If I could I would grab myself by the shoulders and shake myself free, but I can't. 

And so I will remain.