He Said He Was My Friend

He Said He Was My Friend

This is a story about a man, his wife, his life-long best friend, and betrayal. It is about knowing when to walk away and when to lean on others. There is no explicit sex in this story.

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I met David Jones on the first day of fourth grade. My name's Henry Johnson and Miss Jenkins assigned our seats alphabetically, so he sat behind me in the middle row. I was ten and naturally suspicious of anything or anyone new and since David was the new kid in school sitting right behind me, I was very suspicious.

I wasn't the big kid in the class. In fact, I was a bit small for my age and only caught up with the other kids when my growth spurt hit a few years later. David was a bit bigger than me and that added to my mistrust.

We got off to a bad start that first day of fourth grade when I felt a tap on my back. I turned around and the new kid asked me if he could borrow a pencil. What kind of kid comes to school without a pencil? I search my desk for a spare and that's when Miss Jenkins stopped the class to ask me why I wasn't paying attention.

"Well, give him a pencil and stop goofing off!"

Chewed out on the first day... The new kid was not off to a good start as far as I was concerned.

Over the next few days we talked a bit, mostly in a group with some of the other better students, and I was starting to think that the new kid might be okay.

All the while, Billy Baron was reestablishing his importance on the playground. Billy Baron, or Big Billy as he liked to be called, was the class bully. There were even some fifth graders he bullied when he got the chance. Let's just say he was a first-class jerk, and he was confident in his physical superiority. Big Billy didn't waste a lot of time, and on the fourth day of the first week of school he cornered me on the playground when the teachers were distracted. Billy was intent on reminding me of my place in the pecking order when all of a sudden David flew in, seemingly from nowhere, body checked Big Billy on his shoulders and head knocking Billy off his feet and driving him to the ground. Not waiting for Billy to regain his wits, David sat on his chest and threw four solid roundhouse blows to Big Billy's face and then jumped to his feet and stepped back. We both expected that our lives were over at that point, but Billy surprised us and cried like a baby. There must have been a commotion because two teachers were there before anyone could get away. We got detention for a week, but it was going to take more than that to wipe the smiles off my and David's faces. Sitting outside the principal's office I thanked him for coming to my rescue. "What are friends for?" was all he said.

From that day on David and I were true friends. By Christmas we were best friends and by summer we were like brothers. I would tutor David in his classes, and he would teach me to defend myself. We got to work bridging one another's shortcomings. Miss Jenkins must have been sharper than I thought because by Thanksgiving she had recognized the signs of dyslexia in David. With the support of his parents and a good therapist, he began to excel in school as I began to stand up to the bullies.

You want to hear something I would never have expected? By summer, Billy was friends with both David and me. It turned out that Billy was also dyslexic, although his was worse than David's, and his inability to learn was the source of his bullying. Once he got the help he needed, he became a new man (well, a new boy, anyway). Under that mantle of anger and frustration there was a really decent guy. More than once he saved us from the older kids and I began to think that half the world must be dyslexic.

As we grew older and started high school, Big Billy as he was still known started playing football in the fall and baseball in the spring and he quickly became the big man in high school. Despite that, he never lost his genuine good nature and warm heart. He joined up when we graduated and was killed in Iraq a year later. He was as much loved and respected by his fellow soldiers as he was by us, and the saddest day in my life was the day we laid our friend William Baron to rest.

Make that the second saddest day. The saddest day came seven years later.

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David and I went to separate colleges, but we stayed in touch. We got together over holidays and during the summers and each time it was like no time had passed. We instantly picked up where we left off, finishing the stories we started before returning to school, chasing the girls, and generally trying to have a good time while not getting into too much trouble.

In my junior year I met Ariel and fell hopelessly in love. She was warm and funny, bright and mischievous, and she kept me on my toes. It's true, she made me work for it. She flirted and encouraged me in every way a woman can, but she took it slow and I decided I would wait forever if that was what it took. It didn't. It took six months and then she was in my bed never to leave, or so I thought.

Summer came and my parents were anxious to meet her, and quietly pass judgement on this young woman who had captured my heart, so she spent two weeks staying with us as I stayed with her family as well. By the end of summer, both sets of parents decided they approved. We each got a gentle lecture about waiting until marriage, but I think they all knew that wasn't happening. Ariel got a quiet reminder from her mother to be smart, take precautions, and not get pregnant until she was married. My father gave me much the same lecture and said, "If you have to, for god's sake don't be stupid and wear a condom." I nodded and smiled. Ariel was already on the pill.

Ariel met David while she visited me that summer and they quickly became surprisingly close. I would leave them alone for a few minutes for whatever reason and return to find them laughing together. She would give him a nudge with her shoulder, and he would give her a hug. It was as if they had known each other as long as David and I had known one other and I confess I had my first pangs of jealousy. However, I told myself that I was being foolish, that these were the two people closest to me in all the world, and if I couldn't trust them then I couldn't trust anyone.

In the fall we went back to school for our senior year. Ariel would, from time to time, ask about David and how he was doing. I told myself that was normal since they had become friends, but I confess that it sometimes wore on my mind. It was never much, and she never would go on about him, but I sometimes felt like boundaries were being crossed. I told myself I needed to grow up and should set aside any concerns I had about them, and for the most part I did exactly that.

Graduation came and I popped the question. Ariel accepted and all the world seemed right. We both got jobs in Hartford Connecticut, found an apartment, and moved in together.

Now years before when attending a wedding of my cousin, I told my parents, "I'm never going to do all this! I'll find a girl who wants a simple wedding and then a party and it's done."

When my parents stopped laughing, my father said, "When you find the right girl, if you find the right girl, you will do what she wants, smile, and act like you like it." The smile on my mother's face told me he was right, and I retained the lesson. When the time came, I helped Ariel find a hall, hire a florist, choose the cake, select the menu, and address the invitations. I wore the tux she approved of, practiced my vows, and I did as I was told. Snicker at me all you want; you guys did the same thing, and you know it.

David flew into town to be my best man. The wedding went off without a hitch and I settled into a happily married life with my love. Six months went by and David moved to Hartford. Life was getting better every day.

I had long gotten over those pangs of jealousy I once felt and trusted each of them completely. I would later come to wonder how my trust had been misplaced.

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We all three had good jobs and were doing well. Life was good. We each moved out of our entry level positions and started taking on real responsibility. David had an apartment across town from us, but Hartford is a small town and we got together regularly. In fact, it wasn't unusual for me to come home and find Ariel and David sitting at the kitchen table, each with a beer, laughing over some shared joke.

It was a Friday evening and I walked through the door. "Look at him, dragging his sorry ass home like some old man."

Ariel was giggling at this. "What's the matter, babe, have a hard day?"

I dropped my case on the sofa. "There are some days when it seems all I do is fill out forms, write reports, and get not one damn thing of any importance done."

David sat up straight and said, "Not important?! What kind of paper pushing bureaucrat are you? Don't you know that the paperwork is all that matters? If the papers are in order, then everything has to be right!"

That's what passes for engineering humor. "Yeah, right! The paperwork was all in order, but NASA still drove a spacecraft into Mars."

"You have to admit, it made a big hole!" David was laughing now, and Ariel was smiling.

By then I'd found a beer and raised it in a toast. "Never do anything in a small way!"

"To paperwork!" and we each took a drink.

That night we grilled some burgers, baked some potatoes, and Ariel made a salad. David slept over and we all went out to breakfast the next morning. In other words, it was the start of a fairly typical weekend. David claimed to have a date Saturday night and a few errands to run first, so we didn't see him the rest of the weekend. That was fine with me since I wanted some private time with the lady of the house (although it was really just an apartment).

Like I said, life was good. In fact, it was so good that I didn't notice when our life together started to change. It was probably a year and a half into our marriage when Ariel started working late more often. She also started dressing better for work. It wasn't sudden and it wasn't excessive, so when I finally noticed the pattern, I wrote it off as being no more than a motivated young woman taking on her professional responsibilities. We were making more money by that time and I understood that she wanted to dress better. We were still getting together with David regularly and many times he was still waiting for me when I got home on Friday evenings. The problem was that increasingly he was waiting alone.

"The ball and chain working late again?"

"Apparently."

"She's been doing that a lot lately."

"Yeah, she's been taking on a lot of responsibility and working longer hours."

David nodded and mumbled, "Got to admire that, I suppose."

I shirked. "Yeah, I suppose. We've been talking about starting our family soon, but she wants to get a little higher in the company first. She thinks it will make it easier to return to work when she's ready."

"Yeah. I suppose that's true." David was turning away as he said it.

We got a couple of beers and settled into chairs in the living room. We were both unusually quiet for a long time.

"Everything else good at home?" David tried to make it sound like a casual question, but he failed.

"Yeah! She's tired a lot when she gets home, but I'm trying to take some of the load off her by doing more of the laundry and stuff." I paused for a moment wondering if I wanted to admit this to my best friend. "I'm starting to worry about her a little. She's usually too tired for... you know... and I'm thinking maybe she needs an iron supplement or something."

David seemed to be lost in thought for a moment and then while looking at the ground he quietly said, "Working late, tired all the time, not feeling amorous..." He took a deep breath. "Yeah, maybe she needs an iron supplement."

I looked at my friend, my brother, and shook my head. "She wouldn't. Not Ariel. She would never do that."

"You're right. I'm just being stupid. Not Ariel."

We let it rest for a few minutes and then looking at my friend I said, "I've got some steaks in the fridge."

"Whoa, big spender! What's the occasion?"

"Livin' large, my friend, livin' large."

It was false bravado, but we both needed to change the subject. David and I waited for a time, broke out some nibbles and drank a second beer, and then got on with grilling the steaks once Ariel arrived home an hour later. From that point on, it was a typical, happy Friday night and I let our earlier discussion fall into the furthest recesses of my mind.

Our lives continued on in this way for about six months when Ariel came to me one evening. "Henry, mom's not doing all that well. She's been complaining about being lonely and since dad died, she seems to be not really living. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah, babe, I do. Why don't we bring her down here to stay with us for a time?"

"Actually, I was thinking about going up there for a weekend. Maybe all she needs is some mother-daughter time."

Now I should explain to you that both David and I grew up in southern Rhode Island close to the Connecticut border, but Ariel grew up outside Burlington Vermont. She was a country girl at heart and every so often she felt the need to get away from the crowds and the traffic to stand in the middle of a field far away from people. At least, she used to be that way. So, I figured she needed to get away for a few days.

"When do you think you'll be going?"

"I was thinking this weekend. I'll take off Friday and drive up, then come back Sunday evening and I'll spend all week making it up to you."

"I could always come with you."

"Babe, you know if you do mom will just spend the whole time fussing over you. You're like the son she never had." She was smiling.

"Other than your brother, George, you mean?"

"Well, George has always been such a disappointment to mom and..." She couldn't hold it together and started to giggle.

"Okay, babe. You win. You go see your mom and have a good time."

"I love you, old man." She had started calling me that lately. I guess it was a term of endearment, but I confess it didn't sit well with me.

After that, she would go to visit her mother about every four weeks, give or take, stay for a long weekend, and come home refreshed and happy. It seemed to be good for her and I was sure it was good for her mother, so I tried not to complain. That's what a husband does, right? He tries to keep the women in his life happy. At least, that's what I was taught.

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Ariel had been making her monthly trips to visit her mother for about eight months, but she was no longer working late the way she had been. She also wasn't tired anymore. I figured visiting her mother from time to time was good for them both and I chalked that up to a net plus for us all. Our sex life improved, too, so I wasn't complaining.

When things are going well, you naturally think they will continue that way, but change can come abruptly and without warning. I was driving home on a Wednesday night with the rain coming down hard, and I was thinking about things other than driving, when I ran a red light and got hit hard in front of the driver's door. I'd heard of people dying when they get T-boned, so once I gathered my wits about me and they told me what had happened I was feeling lucky. I had a broken leg and bruises down my left side, not to mention a mild concussion, but I was alive. Later I realized that if I'd been hit on my door 6 feet further back, driving at forty-five miles per hour, that's just a tenth of a second later, I'd have been dead. That's how the engineering mind works. The difference between life and death was a tenth of a second.

EMS arrived, put me on a stretcher, and took me to the hospital. They checked me out, patched me up, put a cast on my leg, and in the morning, they sent me home. Ariel fussed over me for a week and I can't say that I minded that in the slightest. David started coming over nightly to see how I was doing and what needed to be done. Both soon decided that I was fine, mobile enough to take care of myself, and life returned to normal.

I returned to work the middle of the next week and either Ariel or David would drive me to work and home again while my friends at work fussed over me some more. Crutches will do that, and I confess that I milked it for all it was worth. The discomfort subsided and the cast and crutches became little more than an inconvenience. I could go up and down stairs, across the parking lot, and even down the road a block or two, but it was a lot of effort, so I tended to eat lunch in the building. I got around, but I wasn't fast.

Pretty soon, Ariel stopped fussing over me, and I began to count the days until the cast came off. Four weeks after the accident she sat down next to me and said, "Henry, it's been a while since I visited my mother. Would you mind terribly if I drove up there this weekend? I'll make it a short weekend, drive up Saturday morning and be home Sunday night."

I confess I wasn't crazy about the idea, but I was getting around well enough. I still wasn't driving, so I called David and asked if he would be available if I needed to get out. Was he available? Friday night he showed up at my door with a bag full of groceries (mostly steaks and beer with a couple bags of nachos) and moved into the guest room for the weekend. Far be it for me to complain, we cracked open two cold ones while my wife packed her bag for the trip.

"Ariel going to visit her mother again this weekend?"

"Yeah. It's been a long time. I'm doing pretty good and her mother needs her."

"I'm sure."

I looked at my friend, but I said nothing.

In the morning, Ariel kissed me goodbye and in very good spirits she walked out the door and drove off for Vermont. David seemed to stare at the doorway after she had passed through and gone until I finally said, "What's bugging you?"

"Me? Nothing. You know me. I'm Mister Get Along. I've got no worries, nothing to see here."

"Let's go to breakfast, Mister Get Along. I'm hungry."

If you've never had your leg in a cast, you don't know what it takes to get into a car with one leg perfectly straight and unbendable. You have a choice. You can sit sideways in the back seat, or you can do the slip and slide in the front. The slip and slide works like this. You put the seat all the way back and the seatback flat. With a plastic trash bag on the seat, you sit on the bag and slide your way onto the seatback until you are situated far enough back that you can swing your leg into the car. Then you slide forward until you're situated properly on the seat and raise the seatback to its normal position. When you get to your destination, you do it all in reverse so you can get out. Going out for breakfast was a big production, so I made it all worthwhile and ordered the right side of the menu. Well, not really. I got eggs Benedict, home fries, coffee, and orange juice with several slices of bacon on the side. I thought seriously about getting a grilled blueberry muffin, but I was too embarrassed to order it when the waitress came back.

It was a Saturday, and my bum leg gave me every excuse to avoid doing any chores, so David and I made a day of it. We went to the outdoors store and checked out the high-end fly rods, then we bought a half dozen flies. We dream big but live on a budget. Then we went to the range and rented a pair of guns for an hour. Neither of us owns a gun, or really wants to, but every now and then we get the itch to squeeze off a few rounds and teach those targets some respect. The targets were never in much danger. We caught a late lunch of barbeque, checked out the hardware store for new toys, hit the electronics store just for fun, and found ourselves at home by early evening. After a big day out, it was time to settle on the porch, have a few beers, make conversation, and eat the biggest plate of nachos we could construct.