"Hey, Pete?" he looked over at me from his behind his bass, his long black hair in waves around his shoulders, his vivid green eyes shooting curiosity and impatience at me. I could tell he wanted me to hurry a long. You would think being older, he would be more appreciative of time and more importanlty the need to form words in our head, being in my early thirtys I most deffintly appreciated people not spouting the first thing that came out of their mouths.
Pete has always intimidated me, his eyes stared into my very soul, stripping me bare and leaving me with absolutely no way of defending myself to his scrutiny.
It's rough, not letting him see how badly his gaze affects me but I carry on, smiling as I ask him what has bothered me the most during the many years of our friendship.
"Feel like getting into some deep shit?" His smile got huge and wide, I sighed, he always thought dirty. With a roll of my eyes and a sharp no, he soon got the point.
"Her, are you ever going to talk about it?" his eyes hardened, his steel gaze shot lazers at me that made me feel as though i were being flayed alive. Impossible as it seems, I held his gaze, standing my ground, his back straightened as if to force me into submission, I smiled, a small smile but enough hopefully to convey that I wouldnt judge him and or force the issue.
Finally, he blinked, his eyes had softened.
"Not today. Just not yet, one day". I sighed, one day he will talk about it, I know how our relationship came about was odd, given most of his relationships with females but I had not relented to his intense sexual prowess and let me tell you, it wasnt easy.
I smiled in understanding and we fell back into our usual banter of the best burger I ever ate, or the worst groupie he banged. We got back to casual. It was just what both of us needed. We ended up passing out on his couch after polishing off a crate of beer, and life went back to normal.
We never talked about it, Her. We found eachother and life took over. We were happy, boy were we happy. Were we in love? No. He wasn't. I wasn't her but he was happy, the group got back together, he always said when he needed money they would probably tour again, just after they finished touring we were at home. It all happened so quickly. Aortic Aneurysm, his symptoms, we brushed off as it was just worse than normal pain. I will never forget that day.
His will, came with instructions to a storage unit, a box labelled "Conversations with a mad man". His memoires, his life before us. All of it.
Her.
My burn barrel is sitting pretty in the garden, maybe I should put her to use.