Page 96 of Proof Of Life
Despite my casual tone, my heart is in my throat as he unfolds it. He’s about to read my last words, or what were supposed to be my last words. The most important things I wanted him to know. Basically, the essence of our friendship. What it all boils down to.
West,
That’s what all your friends call you, isn’t it?
The luckiest day of my life was the day I sat down beside you in the mess hall and stole your biscuit. Someone up above was looking out for me that day.
Thank you for giving me the best memories of my life, my happiest days, my most thrilling adventures, my most memorable, and meaningful conversations. They were all with you. When people are gone, they say, ‘he lived a good life.’ Well, I did live a good life—because of you. You made it good. You made it fucking incredible, actually. Because of you, I lived the kind of life other people wish they had.
I wish I could be selfless and say that I hope you move on and find another friend like me, like what we had together, but I’d be lying. I guess I’m just a selfish bastard when it comes to you. I don’t want you to move on and find another friend like me. Do you hear me? Do not lay on hoods and smoke with other guys. If you get another tattoo, go by yourself. Do not get another ink buddy. I don’t want you drinking and playing cards with another guy, and if I ever find out you watched Top Gun with another guy, I’ll come back and haunt you for the rest of your miserable fucking life. If you do make a new friend, I guess you can play chess together or something, or join one of your nerdy trivia groups.
I guess if you’re reading this, I’m gone. God had other plans for me that didn’t include you for some reason, but don’t worry about it, cause we’ll catch up soon. I love you, West. I love you like a brother. A real one. I love you like my best friend. I love you like someone I respect and admire and even look up to. You are one of a kind, Weston Wardell, the best of the best, and I was lucky enough to call you mine for a long time, but not long enough. Carry-on, soldier. I’ll see you on the other side, brother.
Love Brandt/ The Grim Reaper
Tears distort my vision, and I swipe them away and sniffle, clearing my nose. West snorts, dropping tears onto the letter, soaking the paper, and his head hung low. I can’t even imagine if he was reading this letter for real after I was gone. I can’t imagine the pain he would be feeling, the overwhelming isolation and desolation. It would be enough to make my heart stop beating if it were me.
“You’re a real selfish prick,” he says in a warbled voice. “First, you try to leave me, hypothetically, and then you tell me I can’t even move on and get a new friend.”
Through my tears, I laugh, a snotty, broken sound that makes him laugh as well. Taking the letter from his hand, I lay it down on the bed and climb over his lap. He looks up into my eyes, and I push my nose against his, rubbing them together. Eskimo kisses, because I’m too teary to kiss him properly and my throat isn’t working, but I need to feel close to him.
His breath feels hot against my cheek. “I can’t do this without you. I refuse. There’s no point to it, really, because we both know I’m only alive because of you. If you go, I’m coming with you.”
“West, don’t.” Don’t what? Don’t die because of me? It’s like trying to stop a flood with a paper towel, completely fucking useless and pointless.
“Wherever you go, I’m going to follow. You promised you wouldn’t leave me alone in the darkness, and I can’t imagine how dark it would be without you. You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”
“No,” I say, sounding completely broken. I am. Fucking heartbroken to the core. Because if something happens to me, I’m taking his life as well.
“I'll see you on the other side ‘cause I’ll be there with you. In this life and the next, together forever.”
Touching my forehead to his, I wrap my arms around his shoulders, and he does the same to me, like two koalas hugging a tree trunk. There’s no beginning and no end to us. We are one. And where one goes, the other follows.
“Are you going to read my letter?”
Sliding off his lap, I sit back and grab the envelope, tearing through the seal. Taking a deep breath, I brace myself for the onslaught of emotion that’s about to crush me.
Brandt,
If you're reading this, I’m sorry. Whatever I did, I didn’t do it on purpose. But I’m over here wherever I am, all by my fucking self waiting on your sorry ass. So grab your gun and put your boots on and hurry the fuck up, ‘cause you’re late.
And don’t go getting any ideas about replacing me, either! You should know better than that. Nobody but me is going to suffer through your Top Gun bullshit. Frankly, it’s annoying, and I only put up with it because I love you.
You’re getting this letter because I don’t have anyone else to write it to. You’re all I’ve got. The only thing in my life that mattered. But I want you to know it wasn’t out of convenience. I wasn’t stuck with you. I didn’t end up with you because there was no one else. I would have chosen you over everyone because there’s no one better than you. You’re not just my best friend, or my brother or my family. You’re my partner, my other half. Too bad we weren’t gay because we’d have made a great couple.
It’s hard to read his words through my tears, but I laugh, looking up at him. He must know what point I’m at in the letter because he laughs as well.
If you miss me, just reach out and talk to me. You know everything I would say. Please don’t ever stop hearing my voice. Don’t ever forget what I look like. And don’t ever forget how much I love you.
I’ll see you on the other side, brother.
Love West a.k.a. The Professor
The paper is stained with dried water marks, his tears as he poured his heart out to me. I lay the letter down and slide my hand over his knee.
“It’s a good thing we turned out gay because we really do make a great couple.”
West laughs. “There’s something else in there.”