WHEN
When did he become a better man than me?
Ever since I've known him, that's been my consolation. He was smarter but I was better. Nobody liked him, or respected him for anything other than his mind. I had friends and he didn't. I wasn't a hypochondriac, chronic complainer and he was.
At first, it appeared nothing had changed. He's still obnoxious and abrasive and the woman he was with seemed like an obvious smoke-screen. Even when he interrupted the presentation, it was just the way he is. But then things went wrong and I saw another man. One I'd never imagined.
I don't think I'll ever forget the look he gave me when my first thought was if an injured man had signed his waiver or not. The way his face changed from the beginnings of sympathy to disgust. If anyone had asked, I would have sworn that he wouldn't care how many people were hurt as long as he wasn't one of them.
I'd have sworn he was a coward, but our impending deaths barely phased him.
I'd have sworn his life would come first, no matter what, but he abandoned the coding that would save it to save someone else.
I'd have sworn that he'd be useless in a crisis but he was the one who took the lead and kept the rest of us from panic.
I'd have sworn he'd complain constantly about the cold but he barely seemed to notice it, even after he gave away his jacket.
I'd have sworn that a woman like her would never look twice at him, but the look in her eyes when they returned together was like nothing I'd ever seen.
I'd have sworn I knew him. That there was nothing beneath the surface but more of the same.
I was wrong.
When did everything change?