As he drove past the wall, he didn’t look at the flowers. People were still laying them on the indent. He hadn’t.
His mind was flooded with memories, he tried to choose some from others but failed.
Lewis wondered how many people ended up under a mile from where they ended.
He pulled up to the cemetery and carefully got off the bike. He held the bottle that was in his jacket, it would have been ironic if he dropped it and broke it now. He took it out and looked at it. The tears nipped at his eyes. Lewis had been told on many occasions that the party had been a blast. But he never went and Dave never got there.
The bottle survived. The bike, the wall and Dave, not so much.
He unscrewed the top off the Jack Daniels…
…Man! What a fucking bet to win. The bike fucking killed you first! You’d better pay up!
Lewis wanted to leave it at that. He’d said what he had came to say. He just needed to do what he’d went there to do and that would be the end of it. He held the bottle out and began to tilt it very slowly. The tears did more than nip this time.
He put the lid back on and sat on the headstone. He hoped someone said something.
…I’m sorry! So sorry!
…You Fucker! Why am I apologising!?
What can I say? It’s only now that you’ll fucking listen to me…Well you’ve no choice really you dead bastard!!.
…Women! They should never get between pals, but she did. Laura never loved you, you fucking knew that! You treated her like shit, you fucked about and yet you spat out the dummy when we hooked up.
…I do love her. I always have and you, you bastard, you have tainted something that I wanted and you never did. You were a cunt with women, you know that. I think that maybe one day, you’d have changed….And do you know what would have made you change, do you, you prick? I’ll tell you, it would be meeting that one person, that would have changed you.
They were only there for you to fuck. They were only there for you, for you to look good. None of them got under your skin, you never loved anyone. A decent shag was how you would distinguish, it had fuck all to do with the person. That’s fair enough but why crucify me for that? You didn’t give a fuck about Laura, it was only your fucking pride that fucked us up.
…If you had told her to fuck off and then she had came to me, you can say what you want, but we both fucking know, you’d have been fine.
But NO, not the fucking great Dave Hudson could accept his fuck-piece leaving him for anyone else, especially me! That was just too much for your twisted pride. You could do what you wanted and as long as you were calling the shots, then everything was fine. You were a selfish cunt. And you fucking knew it.
…Is that what it was? Knowing that you were a cunt? Could you not accept that? Or were you so shallow that you wanted to own?
…I FUCKING HATE YOU! You’ve given me the worst guilt trip ever. Laura doesn’t say much and before you get all high and fucking mighty, that has fuck all to do with her feelings for you, she has none. It’s all to do with what this has done to me! I am fucked up and she sees it.
Strange that! That is something you would never understand, someone seeing pain in another person and hurting because of that. Your selfish bastardness only allowed you to feel your own pain!…CUNT!!!!!!!!!
…I hate myself for admitting this, I cried over you. I cried for who we were and I fucking cried because I missed you in my life.
…What a situation, I couldn’t come back to you because of how you treated me and Laura, and you wouldn’t come back to me for the simple fact you consider me to have stolen your girl. A girl that I might add, who didn’t fucking want you and to be truthful, you didn’t want her!
So why did we not speak? Why did I cry? Why have I lost someone who I considered a fucking brother a year before he mangled himself into a fucking brick wall on that fucking bike? Why? Bastard!! Why??
How am I meant to handle this?
…What am I meant to do?
…What fucking chance have me and Laura got? At least when you were alive, the guilt and hatred could be directed at someone… All I have now is memories for a dead friend!
Here you fucker…You dead fucker…Have a last drink with me and I want you to know I fucking hate you for leaving me this way!
…I hate you for leaving me.
Lewis stood and began to sob. It was no surprise.
He tried to tell himself that he felt relieved. His pride had wanted him to hate. But all he was left with was an admission.
…To you Dave!!
He didn’t care what happened to him. He was going to look at the flowers.
…Lewis drunk half and poured the other half over the grave.
Image – Daily Record