My friend Donovan and I decided to rob a bank because we saw best friends do it so often in the movies that we loved watching together. When we got caught, which we didn’t account for, we both got sentences but he got sentenced for longer because of things I don’t quite remember involving a gun; it was so long ago.
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When I got out—well you already know about all that. But it was about five years later that Donovan got out and to be honest with you I didn’t know his release date so I didn’t pick him up or anything. I think his mother got him. After a few days, though, he called me. I answered the phone and I immediately recognized his voice. My heart lit up and I couldn’t wait to see him and I said, “I live in Wisconsin now,” and he said, “Wisconsin? What’s there in Wisconsin?” And I said, “Oh there’s plenty” and he said, “That’s not what I hear,” and I said, “Oh there’s plenty for someone like me,” and we dropped it. He flew out to Wisconsin and we visited and got drunk at a bar where he told me he wanted to go to South America and I said “But you don’t speak Spanish,” and he said “I’ll learn.”
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That was the first time I saw Donovan after I went to prison.
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The second and last time I saw Donovan was just five years ago, so who knows how many years it’d been exactly. You’d have to do the math on that because I don’t bother with numbers. I’d all but forgotten about Donovan until I thought I saw him on the pier. The Manhattan Beach pier is weird; you just see people you thought were forgotten; indeed, this wasn’t the first reunion I’d had there. I looked again and said “That’s him alright,” so I called to him and he turned and when he saw me he didn’t recognize me and then I introduced myself and he smiled and gave me a hug so tender that you know as it’s happening that this is one of maybe five significant hugs you receive in life. I asked him what he was doing here and he said, “Looking at the Ocean.” His way of speaking was always blunt but today it seemed like the years had taken the words out of him. I was more quiet, too, but I remembered our last meeting and said, “How was South America? You ever make it?” And he said, “I lived there for years and years and even got married and had a kid but it got boring so I left.” I didn’t understand how a place can get boring (and I lived in Wisconsin) so I asked him what he meant and he said, “Oh, you start to realize the Ocean looks the same wherever you are,” and as he said this he turned to the water. People walked past us. Finally, I asked what he was doing here in Manhattan Beach of all places and he said, “I wanted to look at the Pacific from this pier is all,” and we were silent for a while. The Sun was setting and the sky was turning orange so I said, “Did you want to get dinner or a drink? It’s been so long,” and he said, “I would, but I’m actually flying out in a couple hours. LAX to Florida.” I offered to drive him to the airport but he said he wanted to try a self-driving car and I said, “Yes, I’ve heard those are amazing,” and so we shook hands, then awkwardly hugged, and then he started walking back to the land.
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I noticed, as he walked away, that the back of his shirt said, “Suck Me” in the same font and style as the Subway sandwich restaurant logo and I realized I was never brave enough to wear a shirt like that.
