He had been distant all afternoon. I wouldn’t have given it a second thought but even his words seemed to be uttered from a very distant place. We were at my home, my wife and kids had gone away to do some shopping, the truth being that my wife really didn’t like his company or having him around the boys, she said he scared her.

He called me at work asking me if he could stop by my house that evening and talk. How could I deny that?

The beer bottles were lining up on the table as the conversation went on, he was asking me about my life, work and family. I on the other hand had no idea what to ask him.

-“Remember that girl I talked to you about?” He said, finally landing back in my living-room, returning from whatever memory he was in.

-“Which one?” I replied. There had been so many up to this point.

-“The cowgirl. You know, the one I met before everyone else.”

-“Oh. Yeah, I think I know who you’re talking about.” I said trying to trace back through all the names and faces I remembered. -“What about her?”

-“She’s disappeared.” He said calmly, still with me, still in the living room.

-“She what?!” I didn’t know if I was surprised or concerned. He always spoke so vaguely. Last time he told me he was raped all he meant was that someone had stolen his personal journal. I guess in a way he was. I remember that day because I went to bed thinking that that person who stole it had an inside look to his life that I lacked.

-“She disappeared. I mean, she’s gone. I’ve been trying to communicate with her and I haven’t heard from her in months.” He paused. “I think she doesn’t want my friendship ever since what happened.” He sighed as he said this, as if going through his past again, through that specific moment that changed everything.

There was a moment of silence he used to take a drink from his beer. It was his sixth and I was trailing back on my third. The alcohol was making him speak and it opening up my ears to his words. It had been months since he and I spoke like this.

-“Nothing really happened between the two of you.” I said. “Is it really bothering that much?”

-“I’m not sure. I can’t really say if it’s that what is bothering me. It’s just me and the way I am, I guess, but it makes me think about the kind of person she is.”

-“What do you mean?” I asked after finishing m beer and setting it down on the brand new coasters my wife bought. She always getting on my hide over not taking care of the furniture.

-“She needed someone like me, I think. At least the person I was back then. I think she needed and outside opinion of her life from someone that hadn’t experienced it. I was there and she was there, she had the questions and I thought I had all the answers then.”

It felt like it took a lot out of him to say all that. I knew who he was talking about and I understood what he meant.

-“I mean…” He went on. “… I don’t feel as if she used me or anything. I don’t have any bad feelings toward and I can’t really resent what she did. It’s just that I actually put an effort into trying to help her find direction and answers to what she was looking for. I still don’t know what she was looking for though. I think it was just to realize that there was someone else like her.”

My attention was fixed to his words. He hadn’t talked like this in so long. The last few talks we had he had been so quiet with him just asking question, trying to find answers to his own problems, I guess.

It was getting dark outside as he stared though the window into the street.

-“You have a very nice life.” He finally broke the silence. “I envy how you’ve managed to stay on the road to what you’ve always wanted.”

Those were his last words before he tapped the beer bottle on the table leaving a small dent on the surface and saying goodbye. He hasn’t found any answers, only more questions and all the roads he’s walking have signs in languages he doesn’t understand. He once told me that he felt as if he didn’t belong in this world, almost like he was born without that gene everyone has that lets them walk over other people without feeling remorse.

He walked out of my home putting his hand on my shoulder and saying “I envy you so much.”

All I could think of though was what I was going to say to my wife to try to explain the dent on her new dining table.