A Friends View

With every gasp for air, the harness got tighter. William’s lungs, condensed from the pressure, seared with excruciating pain as he grabbed for the side of the boat. “Hold, on buddy. We’ll get through this,” I said to him as he pushed himself above the water, dramatically gasping and flailing his arms. He had always been good for a show. His histrionic way of things, shown now at best, always put him in messy situations. This left yours truly to fish him out.
“What are you doing, you know I can’t swim!” his voice panicked and shaky with fear.
“Relax, I got you,” I said providing him with needed comfort and support. After he pulled his soaking body into the old brown John Boat, I chuckled to myself. The day was perfect. The sun shone over the harbor and crept between crevices of the old planks on the dock. The air smelt of the fisherman’s prized catch. The wind blew so gently, so peaceful. And William, with his smirk of pure disgust with the world, sat soaking and sulking in the boat.
We had been together as long as I can remember. Honestly, I developed a love for the guy, almost a need for him. We were inseparable, the best of friends. Now that he was safe from the depths of the lake, glumly he mumbled, “Well, time to be pullin’ in.” At that he firmly grasped the oars in his old, worn hands and began to row towards the shore.

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The oaks danced in the wind. The crisp, September air felt cool and when one breathed in, their lungs were cleaned by its purity. The sidewalk was covered in the old, fading leaves, remembrance of the spring, now long lost. Walking along the deserted sidewalk overflowed with loneliness left me filled with sorrow. Billy’s stare burned inside me like an eternal flame. I knew what he was thinking. What a beautiful day, with its gray haze and dreary movement. And then before I could feel the gratification of knowing my old friend too well he said, “Great day, William, makes one feel alive.”
I gave him a satisfied grin and kept my pace. Strolling we looked ahead in silence. I found the ability to walk in silence proved we were close. Bill was a great guy. It was odd that we got along. He was a child lost inside a world of worry-free bliss. Unfortunately he would never understand reality. And at all times a hat with a pelican feather was on his head. I despised that hat. We visited the millpond at the park to feed the ducks. An aged bench painted white was strategically placed in front of the pond. That park bench was our home every Thursday, and the ducks were our dinner guests.
As we sat down, Bill sneered and said, “ I’m surprised you’re willing to share this bench with me.”
Puzzled, I turned to him and replied, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Please, no idea. Truthfully William, you are brighter than that.”
Sitting there, I knew exactly what he was talking about, Gwenavere. She was the most beautiful, elegant woman created to torture the hearts of the simple men trying to win hers. Many years ago, Gwen and I were to be married until Bill had his say.
“Wow, she was pretty,” he continued, “it’s too bad she is not still around.”
“Yea, too bad you made her leave,” I said in the coldest voice I could conjure.
“Ha. Made her leave. Will, she made you leave.”
As if made of stone, I sat still and listened. My body was filling with anger, and although my brain said no, the rage took command and I swung at Bill. I began taking all my fury out on him and threw his hat into the pond.
At that moment a young, beautiful girl ran up her voice filled with worry, “Sir, stop you have to stop.” And with that she picked up Bill’s hat and placed it in my hands. “Here, you dropped your hat.”

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The water was still, and the slightest disturbance would awake the mass into a succession of ripples. The air was heavy and the humidity made it hard to breathe. My world was motionless, and I was trapped inside like a room without a door. Bill hasn’t mentioned the incident and we haven’t been to the pond since, yet I feel hidden and he is the one holding the cloak. The lake was quiet, and the boat was absent of its rocking as if frozen in time. I sat in silence in the shabby brown boat concealed from the eyes of strangers.
“William…,” Bill said staring through me, “how come we’re sitting in this tattered, ghastly boat? How come you’re getting older and you are all alone? And most importantly, how come you won’t talk to me anymore?”
His words went through me shattering everything in their path. All my sanity drained from me and began to run down my face. “Bill, we can’t be friends anymore,” I sobbed, “ you’re suffocating me.”
“Ha. Suffocating you, am I?” he said in an asinine tone. “ Will, when are you going to see that I bring the only happiness in your life.”
“No, no, you don’t,” I screamed from the top of my lungs, a piercing scream that shatterd the peaceful silence and with that everything seemed clearer. I was alone and always had been. Bill wasn’t needed anymore. The life that was lost began to flow inside me once again. I was free and now the sun would shine once more.