In the Western world, many things are opening back up. People are seeing each other again, embracing without fear and blooming like the springtime flowers around us. We’re reuniting — with people and habits, with public bathrooms and the lower halves of faces. A somewhat acquaintance told me that whenever they think of seeing their good friends after some time away, they think of an essay I wrote many years ago. In 2014 or so. They told me they were thinking of it because they will be seeing two good friends this weekend. I was extremely humbled to hear that and it made me want to share that essay again. Because I like it, too. I edited it a bit, but it’s more or less the same. It was originally written to another friend.
• • •
Dear P.E.,
We had made a drunken promise one early dawn to start writing each other stories of our memories. You said it should be about unimportant things as well as important ones. I like the idea of having an external anecdotal memory of my life in you. I like it a lot. This one is an important one.
This is my first attempt. I’m no Hank Moody but I am currently wearing a leather jacket and I have a weird urge to be smoking a cigarette. Yes, well. Let’s.
— — —
There are people in my life that I hold as deities. Larger than life. Worthy of worship. Most often they don’t deserve this nor are they aware of it. This, in turn, becomes even more fuel for me to hold them up so high. They tend to be men though I can think of two women who have cracked the barrier. This particular story concerns men: Renato and Daniel.
The actual year is a bit fuzzy but I know it was summer time. I think it was 2010. But it could very well have been 2009. But that doesn’t really matter.
So there we were in the year 2009 or ‘10. We being Renato, Daniel and myself. We had a specific plan of going to the beach and stopping at one of our favorite restaurants on the way up, Café Brazil. Those were the only plans we had. The basis of our friendship is simplicity. I’ve always liked this about us. Details aren’t our concern. We can’t be bothered with footnotes.
Renato was driving, Daniel in the passenger seat and I behind Daniel. All of our windows were down and the volume was up. Daniel’s long blonde hair was blowing in the wind as were Renato’s curly dark locks. I hated their long hair. This was not a secret. But so it goes.
To get to the beach — we were going to Panther beach in Davenport, California off the famous Highway 1 — we drove through one of the many Redwood forests. Daniel rattled off facts about trees as his dad is a hippy/Deadhead and loves trees (“Big D,” is what I call him). He mentioned something about the bark being used as a cooling agent for many insects but I was only half listening because I was watching Renato smile and shake his head. His one dimple coming out to say hello. I didn’t have to ask to know he was thinking this asshole is always talking about trees. He was right. Daniel was always talking about trees, water and eggs. He still is.
We get to the restaurant. It’s about 9am — my favorite guy was working behind the juice bar — which meant I could order a small and get a large served with a wink. It also meant I would most likely bend over unnecessarily in front of him. Renato’s favorite chick was going to be our server, which meant he would be hoping she would be bending as well. They also had banana pancakes so Dan was jazzed.
Everything was in its right place.
We ate. I had a small (large) acai bowl with bananas and strawberries and Orfeu Negro (two poached eggs over sautéed black beans and roasted potatoes), Renato had Avacado y Beef a Cavalo (marinated steak with avocado on top with a baguette and potatoes on the side), Daniel had 3 banana pancakes, 4 cups of coffee and some generous helpings to my acai bowl. I didn’t mind because I didn’t mind anything Daniel did. I still don’t. I really probably should.
We finished eating and made our way to the beach. It was my favorite beach weather: not super hot. I was wearing shorts and a sweater. Renato was in jeans and a t-shirt. Daniel was wearing double denim. Japanese selvedge, he kept saying.
Daniel and Renato climbed to the top of a big boulder and I laid at the bottom watching them and thinking about what they were like as young boys. Daniel looked down at me and then started trying to draw a circle around me by throwing rocks. He hit my leg. Renato laughed. Daniel blushed and apologized. I can’t remember what I did.
We climbed on top of another boulder and talked. I can’t remember about what. Most likely music. Probably something about aliens. Most likely we called each other assholes a lot. It was always a term of endearment for us.
We decided to head back home, the beach was getting too much wind. I think it was about 3pm by now and we wanted to avoid traffic. So we piled into the car — same formation as before. Rolled down windows. Turned up volume.
Fifteen minutes into the drive, I reached around the headrest and started giving Daniel a massage. He was falling in and out of sleep and I felt accomplished in knowing that I was easing my pal into dreamland.
Daniel was snoozing. Renato was selecting the music. The windows were down. The sun was on our faces. The road was clear. Renato winked at me in the rearview mirror — that one dimple coming out to make a second appearance. I watched my hands disappear and resurface in the jungle of Daniel’s hair and I had a powerful sense of being complete. It was a frightening wash of peace. It made me extremely uncomfortable. Uneasy. I remember my heart beating faster and my face contorting as I was trying to figure out exactly what I was feeling.
I held my breath as well as the sudden tears that were building up in my eyes. I was feeling too much and I didn’t know what to do with it or where to put it.
I recall looking out the windshield, seeing the road ahead and making wishes in rapid fire. I wished the road would never end. I wished the sun would never set. I wished no one would ever call. I wished the car would never run out of gas. I wished we would never have anywhere to be. I genuinely wished these things though I don’t know who I was sending them to. I honestly believed in that moment that if I wished hard enough it would all come true. I was completely content on living in that moment for the rest of eternity. An endless loop of that instant in time. Forever on the road with my two greatest possessions.
That day nothing really happened. Nothing special. But it is my favorite day of my life.
