Pass The Kleenex

It was just past dawn.  I was at the end of Rockview Street, staring out into the ocean. Quinn sat in the passengers seat. I spotted Marv sitting on the cement wall checking the surf. He didn’t see me. I got choked up. Marv was probably getting close to being about 30 years young. I met him when he was still in high school.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to talk with him because I was sick and fucking tired of having the same thing to say to everyone. It usually went like this:

Hey aren’t you supposed to be in Mex?

It’s over.

Oh Aaron, sorry to hear.  What happened?

Everything, and Nothing.

I don’t understand.

Neither Do I.

And then I would proceed to tell this somebody that I didn’t want to get into the specifics, but that I am trying to come to grips with THE most defining time in my life.

So there was young Marvin. He looked good. He looked clean and sober. I felt the magnetic pull to reconnect, but couldn’t tell you why:

Yeah Marvin, What’s Up Big Guy?

Aaron, is that you?

Indeed it is. No, stay there, I will be right out.

I got out of the van, went around to the sliding side door, and let Quinn out. Both she and I walked over to Marv. I could tell that he knew something seemed odd. It surely had to do with the fact that I had a dog, and I was right:

No way, Who’s this?

She is Quinn.

Beauty.  I am guessing Puerto is done?

It is buddy.

Dude, what’s the matter?

I lost all composure, and it felt right. I put my head down, cried into my hands, and basically just broke it all down for the kid. I told him everything in like four minutes, and didn’t hold back. Marvin had no choice but to put his arm around me.  There is something very refreshing about breaking down in front of youth.