A Walk To Remember

Casey and I got off the bus and began to walk home.

Remember Casey? He was the kid I grew up with who was later my Date from Hell after I broke up with J. The one with the bad jokes and the worse breath. We'd been friends as kids. Even had crushes on each other. But mostly friends - inspite of the fact that he eventually spent all of his time mooning over another girl on the block who looked like a linebacker for the Green Bay Packers. And in spite of all the frequent episodes of neighborhood politics and Mama Drama. (Our mothers were both famous bickerers).

Casey was finishing 9th grade. I was finishing 8th. He had been a little distant recently - feeling like a big shot heading off to high school (even though he still fit in Toughskin jeans from the Boys department at JC Penney).  He normally strutted off the bus and up the block at a record pace. But today he was walking a little more slowly. Slow enough for me to catch up with a little effort (since I felt like I had turned to lead between 7th and 8th period classes).

When I caught up and we'd said our hellos, I asked him, "Did you hear?"

"Hear what?"

"My Mom is moving out. I guess my parents are getting divorced, but no one is saying."

"Mine too," he said quietly.

"Your Mom is moving out, too?" I could hardly believe it. It was a conspiracy! His Mom! My Mom! And probably that lady on the next street who made her husband get a perm and who has the checkerboard frosted hair and wears striped toe-sock knee-highs with her platform sandals.

"No. My Dad is. But my parents are splitting up like yours."

"Sucks, doesn't it?"  I say, defiantly using my mother's most hated off-color word.

"Blows."  Casey said. I have no idea how his mother felt about that word.

We walked in relative silence the rest of the way to our street. We crossed to our side of the block. A creepy old guy lived in the house on the corner. He was a well-known Dirty Old Man. Famous for inappropriately touching all the little girls when they came to play in the yard with his grandsons.

"Watch out. Don't let the Bogey Man get you" Casey half joked.

"The real Bogey Man is probably drinking coffee in the kitchen talking to your Mom on the phone."

Casey attempted a smile. We walked toward my house.

I felt like I wanted to keep walking with Casey. Wanted to keep talking even though we weren't really talking. At least not out loud. But we were in a special club together now. We both knew it.

When we got there he looked over at me and said, "Hang in there." 

"You, too," I said back.

I walked up the driveway to the front door knowing my brother and mother would be inside. I wished again that I could have kept walking.