I knew Cayden and Lawrence back in high school, when we had dreams and thought that they would come to pass. We stopped talking right after high school ended. Lawrence left. Cayden left. They both left in opposite directions. I stayed in the Quad Cities on the border of Iowa and Illinois. My two best friends promised to talk every week. We didn’t. We didn’t talk again for several years. I had to live with a nothing job and shattered dreams.
I heard Cayden returned a week earlier. No, he didn’t return; he visited. He asked me to return to see him. I felt guilty. I had been his best friend just a few short years ago.
Cayden texted that he could see me. He arrived in a classic car from the 1970’s wearing an old-fashioned gentleman’s suit.
“Hey,” Cayden said. “Nice to see you.”
“You too,” I said. “It’s been a year, hasn’t it?”
“Has it been that long?” Cayden asked.
“And I saw you once,” I replied.
“Oh,” Cayden said. “You know, life gets in the way.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Remember how it was?”
“Yeah, high school…”
“It was awful,” I said. “But at least we were friends then. Not like now.”
“We’re friends,” Cayden hastily added. “I visit your Facebook page. I read your blog.”
“That doesn’t really count,” I replied. “Look at us. Lawrence fights anyone he wants, and I sit in my room making miniatures. You at least act and produce plays and try the obscure thespian thing. I have nothing, and our friend Lawrence can have anyone.”
“Look I didn’t come here for a fight.” Cayden added before sighing. “I wanted to tell you in person because I don’t think you know, Lawrence is in the hospital, he might not make it.”
You can read part two here.