The Send Off

   You might ask how could I feel such ill will towards my best friend, and you wouldn't be the first.  But the truth is, he wasn't just my best friend, he was also my best enemy.  So much so, that we might as well have been brothers.  Like the popular line from Hollywood, there was nothing I could have that he couldn't take away.

   From our freshmen years, when we were assigned as roommates, we might as well have been joined at the hip.  What most people did not understand, and would probably not believe, is where I went, he would follow.  He was certainly the more gregarious between the two of us, and he could charm the panties off a coed, or two, or three, but where was the challenge in that?  He was more handsome, more suave and seemingly more sophisticated, so having girls flock to him was no great trick, though I have to admit having the chick in the picture cry over him in death was a real feat.  He didn't usually get his own girls, he like the game too much, and the game usually involved me getting the girl and him taking her away.  It was his game, he made the rules, and he scored like a basketball player.

   He stole every girl I ever liked, and even some I didn't like, just in case.  Every girl, that is, except for one.  One girl saw him for who he truly was.  She saw through the charming smile.  She heard past the empty promises.  It wasn't for lack of trying, however, but his persistence eventually drove a wedge between our brotherhood.  That she would marry me was more than his pride could accept, and that he tried so hard for no reason more than his stupid little game, was more than I could forgive.

   I tossed the paper on the table.  I should call my wife and tell her the good news.  I even reached for the phone, but before I could dial, I was struck with an emptiness in the pit of my stomach.  Tom was gone.  Love him or hate him, he was gone, and I guess I loved him about as much as I hated him.
from Ivory