The Lookout

The wind blew from the east that evening. Or maybe it was the west. I can't remember. Danny would know. He always knew that sort of thing. I never understood how or why he remembered such things but I didn't need to understand. I trusted him. That night was much like this one, where the breeze mingles with the pinks and yellows of the sky at dusk as if the spirits use their breath like paintbrushes, whistling and blowing their creation into the atmosphere. I remember that evening. It hangs clearly on the white wall of my room, like a living mural only I can see.

Today, I sat in our spot, on the pathetic excuse for a cliff at the edge of town. Danny was so excited the day we found this spot. After convincing me to join him on a hike (which I hated), we ended up with a thrilling view of everything we had known (which I loved). He would always tell the people's stories up here. I would remind him that we couldn't see the people from this distance. That didn't matter to Danny. There were people we knew down there. And people we didn't.

Danny had enough imagination for the both of us. He might start with the story of Lacey Gray and her almost rise to fame, peppering the tale with his favourite catchphrase;

"Did ya know, she was going to be an actress? Went to drama school and everything. She was talented and beautiful and got an agent at 17. Did ya know?

I smiled with the look in my eye that begged him to go on.

"What happened? How did she end up in this empty town?"

"Well, she got pregnant. Found out that same week she got her first job. She was in a soap opera. Just for one episode. Then she had her baby. She was a no name with no money so she came back here. Had two more babies after that. I think she's a waitress now."

Just as I was preparing to challenge the inverted path of Lacey Gray and ask if she was real, Danny moved on to the next story. He was always forging ahead, leaving me to ponder the world in his wake.

"Did ya know, G?"

That's what you called me when we hiked up to the spot after soccer practice.

"Did I know what?"

He didn't ask to create the story together but this time the subject was assuredly real. Are rumours ever started on little lookouts between best friends? Do people catch the echoes of teenagers and wonder what's real the way we did? Mr. Jacobson was strange and we needed an explanation for him;

"Of course, he's a cyborg! It only makes sense, the man never blinks! He counts money without looking and walks with that limp that's not a limp. You know the one."

He showed me then in perfect imitation how the convenience store owner sidled along.

And I had laughed. I always laughed at his stories.

Danny told stories about our plans too. Our futures were always intertwined in his mind even if we were about to walk on diverging paths. But that day was different. He was sitting down when he told his stories. He didn't try to emulate voices and there was barely any passion even though we were imagining a Pegasus swooping through the painted clouds. It made me feel better to know this little place might have a protector. But he was different that day. So I asked;

"I have to go, G."

Of course I knew that. We would both move on eventually.

"I mean, my folks are moving as soon as we graduate. I won't be coming back here."

The words fell heavy that evening only because the disappointment was so plain in his voice. It didn't matter how much we planned, life would unfold the way it wanted.