“Gus,” I say, trying to comfort him. To comfort both of us. Because everything he just said I felt right along with him.
I hear him light up another cigarette. “I know, I know,” he says. I wait, because at this point I’m not sure where this conversation is going. All I know is the person on the other end of this phone, his friendship, means the world to me. He’s my best friend. Always has been. He’s all I have.
“Bright Side, I’m not gonna lie. This is kinda f**kin’ with my mind. I mean, I know we can’t be together. Hell, I don’t even know if that’s what I would want anyway. You know I don’t do relationships. No offense. I don’t mean that as an insult. At all. It’s just that … dude, you’ve been my best friend for like … forever. We’ve done everything together. We’ve been through some serious, serious shit together. And then, wham! You’re moving a thousand miles away and I’m headed for God knows what with this recording deal and then we have sex … and it’s the best sex I’ve ever had. And it’s with you, my best friend. And I just feel like there’s this ... I don’t know, that there’s this … finality to it. Almost like a goodbye. But I can’t lose you. I need my best friend.”
Little does he know how dead-on he is. Sometimes I think he reads my mind. “Damn Gus, when did you get all philosophical on me?”
I mean it as a compliment, a confirmation, but he takes it wrong. I hate phones. I need physical interaction when I talk. I need to see the other person and for them to see me. I need body language and non-verbal cues.
And so does Gus obviously. He sounds irritated, even though he’s just poured his heart out. “Bright Side, don’t make light. Fuck, I’m trying to be honest here.”
“I’m not, I’m completely serious.” I must sound desperate. I hate being on the wrong side of a misunderstanding. “Damn, I wish I could see you right now. We seriously need to check into Skype or something, because this cell phone bullshit isn’t going to cut it.” Now I huff, which is just fine because we know each other so well that we can communicate through huffs and sighs and grunts and convey messages and emotions that most people can’t get across with words. I love that about our friendship. “Everything you just said, that’s exactly how I feel. I meant what I said before; I don’t want things to get weird between us. I love you. You know that. I’ll always love you. I can’t lose you either. I need a best friend more than anyone else on the planet right now, so you’re preaching to the choir on that one. I mean, you are talking to Kate Sedgwick, God’s chosen loner.”
“Don’t say that,” he interrupts.
He’s right. “I know, sorry … It’s just that even though our lives are going in opposite directions right now … I want to know, I need to know, that you’re just a phone call away. If I need to complain about a test—”
He interrupts. “You never complain, Bright Side. And even if you did you’ve never needed to complain about tests because you’ve always been a straight A student, you freak.”
I laugh because he’s always teased me about my grades, especially after I graduated from high school with honors. But, he’s always been proud of me for it too, because that’s what best friends do. What he doesn’t know is that I wasn’t referring to school tests. But I let it go, and continue. “And what about when I need you to search for a vegetarian restaurant for me because I have an ancient cell phone without internet and I don’t know how to get around Minnesota … and I do not want to get the meat shits again—”
He interrupts again. “Jesus, that’s kinda putting the cart before the horse, don’t you think? Do they even have vegetarian restaurants in Minnesota? Isn’t there some sort of mandate or law or something against it? I mean, it is the Midwest after all. I expect it’s meat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, right?”
“Or because I just need to hear your voice, because you’re my friend, and my family, and my past ... and me.”
He’s calm Gus again. “I’m always here. You’re going to do amazing things, Bright Side. You’re going to be the best damn teacher the world has ever seen.”
I don’t thrive on compliments or encouragement, but my heart swells when he says that. I’ve always wanted to be a special education teacher. “I’d settle for just a teacher, how’s that? And you’re going to be the biggest rock star the world has ever seen.”
Gus doesn’t thrive on compliments or encouragement either. “And I’ll settle for gigs that pay the bills, how’s that? I don’t think I can work in that f**king mailroom for another six months.”
But I love giving out compliments, not kiss-ass, brown nose, I-just-want-to-make-you-feel-good compliments, but genuine, no bullshit, I-mean-it-because-I-feel-it-in-my-heart compliments. “You’re so talented, you’re going to be huge, Gustov Hawthorne. Just don’t let your ego get out of control, okay?”
I was joking about his ego, but he answers sincerely, “That’s what you’re for Bright Side. To keep reminding me I’m just Gus … and I’m not as great as all the lying bastards tell me I am.”
“Deal.” But because I can’t help it I add, “But you are great.” He needs to know. He’s the most gifted musician I’ve ever seen and I’ve seen a lot of musicians. Before now, music was my life. Gus and I attended a private music-focused middle and high school in San Diego called The Academy. (It was just down the street from where we both lived, so I was blessed by proximity and a little talent. Gus didn’t need proximity.) Gus played guitar, piano, and he could sing. I played the violin. People came from all over the country to attend The Academy. There were some crazy-talented kids, but Gus was always in a league of his own. He blew me away. And he’s been performing with his band Rook for the past two years. He writes all their music and lyrics. They play almost every weekend locally around southern California, but a few months ago an executive from a successful indie label was at one of their shows in L.A. and signed them on the spot. They just finished recording their first album two weeks ago. Gus doesn’t like to be pigeonholed into a genre, but they’re guitar driven alt rock. They’re amazing and Gus is their core, their leader. He’s going places.