Wind sucked out of my sails, leaning over the bike he just gave me because I didn't know what else to do, I watched as G Money jogged across the dim lit street at 4 in the morning.
"Take care of the bike, bro."
"Thanks a lot, man, I really really appreciate it."
"That's ok."
"Hey you should call Yumyi she and Chucky were calling me worrying where you were."
"Yumyi's freaking out." He was drunk and seemed almost disoriented, more so than usual.
"Yeah, think so."
"Well, I'm gonna get a cab."
"Here, G, take this," I tried to hand him 15RMB for a cab back to his house. He'd just given me his bicycle, it was the least I could do but he raised his hand in protest, anxiously.
And, then he left with a short and awkward hug. No promises of another meeting, no calling me little brother. He could have stayed on the corner we were on and hailed a cab; instead he jogged across two lanes away from me and he was still in sight as he waited for a taxi. I wasn't sure what to do, wasn't sure if i was supposed to reach out or go home or if I should have said something more.
That was how it had been with G Money for the last half year.
A little less than a year ago, Mast and G and I were drinking at the apartment Mast had helped G rent. We had already known each other for 6 years, these two older guys I really looked at as my brothers. I had stayed at G's house in the Philippines, gone to him when I was sick or needed advice. Mast had kept me going and guided me while I was hopelessly pursuing the girl of my dreams. We toasted. We put a strong, but emotional arm on the shoulder of our brother, a gesture that as the night and the whiskey wore on became more and more frequent until we weren't drinking anymore but instead confiding the importance of each other as more than friend but family until we all grew old. We cast our doubts into the water, real doubts that we knew would be scooped up and set aside by our brothers with warm words and confidence we ourselves couldn't muster until it came time to offer the same to them. We wished, and guaranteed, each others' success.
In the beach hotel, away from the girls and the brute, G Money and I sat across from each other with a bottle of his father's whiskey. It was very good whiskey, a bottle of Johnny Walker Premium. We had glass after glass; it was the first time during the whole 3 week trip that we'd been able to talk without the others around or worrying where to go next. He told me he felt like I was part of his family, and I replied that I was his little bro. We laughed about how that big brute had dove into shallow water all cocky and adventurous, came up shuddering shouting at me about something on his back and then lumbering into the boat with his back shredded by coral. We talked about his Korean girlfriend being accepted by his family. We talked about how much I missed my own girlfriend.
Me and KCho discussed the "death of our friend" right before KCho left. It was almost like he had changed, and since we had lost contact for so long I struggled to remember how it was that first Jiao Da Semester. G Money, the big bro, the prankster with a twinkle in his eye, the caretaker. Somewhere I know he's still all those things. But we were left instead with sharper memories of him having to teach English at 10 at night, of a tired and unenthusiastic voice on the phone. I knew I could depend on him if I needed him, this whole half year I've known it. But the downtime, the easy time, seemed lost.
And sadly, running away from me in the night, having left me with the exact gift I'd needed for 2 months, it seemed right.
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