A Prompting Into the Future - 2015 and Beyond - 1. By and By

He swung his legs out and onto the pavement. He stood and stretched his arms out and up in an attempt to relieve the pain between his shoulder blades. He'd been feeling the pain in the last couple of hours. That can't be good, he thought, but at least my knees aren't acting up. He reached into his piece-of-shit car and across the driver's seat, grabbed his backpack and the ever-present bag of fast food—too much trouble to cook for one and too late for the trouble—and headed toward his apartment. This week had been a killer, but then so had the one before that, and the one before that. Janitorial jobs were not one of the better ones to have.

Reaching for his keys and not finding them, he realized that he'd left them in the ignition. Rather than carry his items back and forth, he set them down in the soft pool of light shining on the steps down to his basement apartment and went to fetch them. He gathered up his things upon his return and four steps down toward his front door he noticed, to his left, a young man curled up on his side and appearing to be sleeping. He was hidden behind the poor attempt at landscape planting around the complex: overgrown shrubbery blocking daylight to all of the basement units.

"Boy!" he said. He jangled his set of keys for effect. The young man opened his eyes and looked at him before pushing himself into a sitting position. "What are you doing out here?" he asked. The boy didn't answer him. "Do you live in the complex?"

"No," he said. He offered up a smile.

"Well, you can't stay out here. It's not safe." He expected the boy to go about his business. What parent lets a child roam around at night like this, he thought. He couldn't be no more than twelve or thirteen.

"Okay." The boy said. He rose up and pushed through the bushes and stepped one foot onto the first step behind the man.

"Oh." The boy's move was unexpected. "It's not much but you're welcome to come in," he said. He unlocked the door and pushed hard with his shoulder. The door always stuck in the summer heat and humidity. He flipped on the lights. "You should call your parents. Won't they be missing you?"

The boy shook his head no and walked over and sat on the couch and watched him. After the door was pushed to and locked, he dropped his backpack containing his dirty uniform onto the floor, and carried his food over to the table and sat it down. He studied the boy. He looked familiar, like he should know who he was.

"Do you want something to eat?" he asked. The boy shook his head no. "Something to drink?" Again, the boy shook his head no. "Man of few words, are you?"

The boy laughed. The sound was clear and high as if his voice hadn't changed and deepened yet.

"I had a friend who laughed like that." The man smiled. "A long time ago. I can hardly believe I remember that."

"What was his name?" The boy asked.

"Nate, his name was, Nate, and he was my best friend." The boy raised his eyebrows, and along with his facial expression, indicated that he wanted to hear a story. He looked at his takeout but decided that he didn't get much company, and walked over and sat down on the ratty-tattered lounger he used to watch television—and all too often, to fall asleep in. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and let it out. He let his memory wander and pull up times and places and images. When he opened his eyes the boy was watching him intently.

"Like I said, it was a long time ago. But now when I think back on him, you remind me of him." He felt his breath hitch when he thought about it and flexed his left hand because it felt stiff. The boy got up from the couch and walked over to sit on the floor by his chair.

"What was he like?" asked the boy.

"Well, his family lived on the backside of the block opposite my family and our back yards abutted. We were inseparable. There was no other boy I knew like Nate . . ." He went on telling different tales of their escapades. ". . . and one day we were wrestling around, playing mostly, even though we were a little older." He stopped. He flexed his left hand again and took a few deep breaths. His chest felt tight to him and he wondered at all the lost memories that came back to him. He expected he was becoming a little overcome.

He glanced at the boy. He was watching him closely again. His lips were pressed tight. "Well, nothing bad happened, boy. We were having fun and then we got worn out. Nate was laying on top of me and he smiled. And do you know what he did?" The boy's smile was back. "He kissed me. Right on the lips." Man and boy laughed together at that.

He said to the boy, "You look so much like he did." Recalling the memories had dredged up pictures of Nate in his head and the resemblance was remarkable.

"What happened to him?" asked the boy.

"I don't know if I should be telling you that," he said. He shifted in the chair, the pain in his back was worse and he stretched it out again. Tired, he thought. "But, I guess, since I told you the beginning, I may as well tell you the ending."

"Nate's father lost his job one spring and couldn't find enough work to pay the bills. So they moved away at the end of summer. They went to the east coast to live with some relatives. Nate said that he'd write me and give me his new address. I waited and waited for that letter. I asked about the mail every day. My mom told be to give it some time because she was getting impatient with me, but that letter couldn't have come soon enough for me.

"One day, about a month later, I came home after school and my mom was waiting for me with tears in her eyes." He took a shuddering breath, his chest tight. "She said that Nate's mom called. That they'd gone to the ocean. She said that Nate had drowned, got pulled under the water. I learned later that they didn't find him for couple days."

He looked down at the boy through tears and found them mirrored in the boy's eyes. He put a hand on the boys head and gently stroked his hair. His voice trembled when he said, "My God, you look so much like him." He felt overwhelmed by the retelling of his past, his breath came short and he broke out in a cold sweat. Sharp pain ran up through his shoulder blades. The boy stood up and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Something's . . . wrong," he said. He couldn't move, his eyes fixed on the distance.

"Nate." He called out. "Is that you?"

"It's alright," the boy said, his voice clear and strong. "I've come to get you. You won't be alone."