If Only

If Only

He was my best friend and I was not there for him. It was my entire fault. If only I had been there, it would not have happened. I could have prevented it all. These were the thoughts that ran through my head that entire day.

I was sleeping heavily, dreaming of my sweetheart at the time. You know, one of those dreams you have fora week in a row after meeting that certain someone. It was just perfect. He and I sat together on a sandy beach, watching the sunset. I could smell the salty, almost sweet smell of the ocean. I felt the warmth of the setting sun beaming across my skin and the sand was fine as sugar as I dug my toes into it. I gazed over at him, smiling. He wore a white button up shirt and his shorts were covered with a bit of sand. He looked at me, his beautiful brownish green eyes sparkling, and leaned in closer to me. I could feel my heart pound in my chest as we got nearer to one another. As we were about to kiss, I heard a loud, piercing noise. However, it was not in the dream. I opened my eyes, extremely annoyed.

The sun was barely shining through my window and my plan to sleep-in was ruined. The noise continued and this time I could tell that it was the ringer to my cell phone; that irritating beeping sound that was supposed to mimic one of my favorite songs. I snatched it off my nightstand and looked at the screen, squinting a little to see the tiny letters. Austin, the name blinking on the phone, was my younger neighbor that lived a house down from me. He was four years younger than I was but he liked to hangout with me and play videogames. He could never get over me, a girl, liking his almost new, red dirt bike. We rode his dirt bike almost everyday and it was the most likely reason for his call. Not today, I was too tired from staying up to around four o’clock that morning, watching my favorite Animes. His name disappeared as I pushed a button to silence the ringer. His name was replaced with the time: eleven o’clock. I groaned, still sleepy, and put the phone back on the nightstand, knocking off an old manga book. I flopped back down into my soft sheets and snuggled back under them. I closed my eyes, sighed deeply and effortlessly fell right back to sleep.

I heard my dad’s voice, trying to wake me. He was another frequent dream wrecker. I could feel the bed sink down on one side as my dad sat down next to me. He said my name softly and shook my shoulder. I opened my eyes and looked up at him, then at the clock. It was three in the afternoon! I thought he was going to fuss at me for sleeping in so late but his eyes looked sad. Then, trying to make his voice sound calming, he said that Austin had been taken to the hospital but he was going to be okay. I did not let him finish. I shot up and started begging for what had happened to him. He had broken his leg while on the dirt bike, my dad explained. He had supposedly put the front brakes on while going down the slope in his yard; one thing you do not want to do unless you want to flip over the handlebars. I was not really listening as he was telling me all this. My mind had gone blank and my lips silent at “broke his leg.” Tears welled up in my eyes, my chest began to burn, and I fell back in my bed in disbelief. Could I have stopped him from being hurt? Was he going to be able to ride with me again? Terrible things came to my head as I bawled, trying to quiet myself with my pillow. Then I thought of only one thing. I wanted to see him for myself and make sure he was truly all right. I regained my composure the best that I could and asked, in a shaky voice, when he would get back home. My dad told me that Ms. Tammy, Austin’s mom, would call me when he was back at home.
However, to drive my guilt home, my dad said that he had told me about Austin’s injury two hours earlier. I did not remember that at all and no matter how hard I try, I cannot think of it even now. I had to be the worst friend ever. I could have told him not to do it. I could have helped him if he needed me. I continued to think these things as I was getting dressed and walked outside. I felt numb, like my heart had been ripped right from my chest. Austin was the closest thing I had to a little brother, and he was one of the few kids on our street that liked to build forts and have sword fights with tall stalks of pampas grass. I sat against the tire of my dad’s Hummer and started to cry again. I kept repeating that I was so sorry for whatever I had done and what I was now being punished for.

Soon the sadness was replaced with anger, and I was furious at myself for not being there with him, for ignoring his phone call. I balled up my fist as a more intense heat in my chest began to wash over me. I cursed at myself aloud and punched the concrete as hard as I could. I did not stop there, no, I repeated several times and with both fist until the feeling return to my battered hands. I did not cry this time as I looked at my bloody and scraped up knuckles. Anger and pain did nothing to take my mind off Austin. I remained sitting there on the hard concrete, leaning against the tire, and feeling no remorse now for hurting myself. Austin was the only one I was worried about then.

My dad stuck his head out the screen door and yelled to me that Austin was home. I snapped alert and sprung to my feet. I raced across my backyard, barefoot through the soft, green grass. I’m coming, Austin, I thought as I ran through my neighbor’s yard and into Austin’s front lawn. I was in such a hurry to see him that I actually tripped and fell face first into the ground. I laid there for two seconds, making sure that I was really unharmed. After accessing the damage, I got back up and walked up to the front door. I knocked on it and half expected Ms. Tammy to answer it, instead, I heard Austin’s voice welcoming me in. I opened the door and looked over at him. His leg was completely encased in a hard white cast that went all the way up to his hip. His eyes were half open and his smile was far from happy. Those painkillers had given him a look of drunken stupor. He told me that he was sorry for getting himself hurt. Tears came to my eyes as I told him that he had not done anything wrong. I was so happy to see with my own eyes that he was truly all right. I blinked away the small teardrops and smiled fondly at him. I sat down on the floor next to the couch and rubbed his head. Suddenly, he reached up and grabbed me wrist, jerking it down to his eye level. He glared at my wounds then at me. He tightened his grip on my wrist and asked through gritted teeth why I had done such a thing. I knew he was seriously angry with me for hurting myself but it was not the time to talk about my issues. Besides, I wanted to cheer him up. I laughed and asked teasingly, “Whatcha been drinking?” His expression softened a little. His words were slurred together even more as he played along with me. He insisted he was not drunk, waving his hands slowly as if to say, “No more for me, thanks.” He smiled and I laughed heartily with him.

Austin’s laughter made me feel like a million bucks that night. I would not leave his side until he went asleep late in the night. I walked home through the yard with only the moonlight lighting my way. I inhaled deeply and looked up to the stars. I stared blankly for a moment then whispered, “Thank you.”
I have known Austin for five years and out of all things we have been through, his leg breaking was probably the one thing that made us as close as we are now. No one could ever replace him and it took nearly losing him to realize that. I know now that I should never take anything for granted, especially a great friend such as him. I do not know where I would be without him; he has always been there to cheer me on. All I know is I would not be as outgoing, active, and kind as this if it was not for him encouraging me to move on when I was down. He can always bring a smile to my face as long as I can make him smile first.