Not by my side
by M. F. Luder
Ryan takes off his yellow helmet, scratching his sweaty forehead.
Leaning over, he picks up the corrugated iron bars, corners already bent for the columns, and places them to the side. They won't be needed until tomorrow afternoon. The mixer should be here at ten a.m. sharp to pour the concrete and he doesn't want the iron to be in the way.
He lets them fall unceremoniously onto the floor, by the rest that will be planted on the right third sector. The formwork for the left third sector is already waiting for the pump. There are some fasteners waiting to be put on, but that'll have to be tomorrow.
There's a pat on his shoulder and he turns to look on his right.
Steve, the resident Engineer, reaches for his pack of cigarettes and retrieves one. "It's late," he says as he lights it. "No reason to stay behind, Atwood."
Ryan nods. They don't pay over time. "Yeah, I'm leaving."
Steve nods. "Good."
Ryan watches Steve make his way to his Toyota Yaris with a sigh. He rubs his left shoulder blade, still hurting because he’d tried to pull three metal formworks to the second floor. He knows it'll be sore in the morning.
Helmet in hand, Ryan makes his way to Theresa's old Nissan. He throws the helmet in, opening the door. Theresa isn't using the car anymore, not after she lost her job a month ago. And no one wants to hire and five-month pregnant girl.
He pulls off the driveway. He doesn't turn on the radio as he drives all through Long Beach. It's an hour’s drive to the site, but it's worth it. Fourteen dollars an hour is more than worth it. The sky starts turning gray as Ryan drives by Rainbow Harbor. He sighs, looking to his right; the lighthouse shinning brightly at the end of the pier.
Maybe it's the darkness of the afternoon as it turns night, or maybe it's the mood that reminds Ryan of that party here in Long beach, of Luke getting shot. He remembers Seth's 78 shirt, the same one he was wearing when Ryan met him. His throat is dry.
Ryan remembers what Seth was wearing the day he left. That white button-down shirt with the red stripes. He had worn that shirt a couple of months before, when they went to the movies and held Grand Theft Auto championships that ran into the early hours of the morning.
Stupid, really, to think about the one that left. The one that picked up his things and left without looking back, not caring about him. Ryan swallows thickly. His hand clenches around the wheel. It's not like Ryan wanted to do this, to leave the only place that he could ever call home. It's not like he wanted to leave Sandy and Kirsten, to leave school and a future. It's not like he wanted to leave love.
He would have done anything to stay. And Seth... left. Seth left when Ryan needed him the most. When Ryan needed to tell someone that he was scared, petrified, of becoming a father. He wanted to say aloud that he didn't want to work, not again, not after everything. When Ryan needed Seth the most, he left. Seth left him, not the other way around. Seth left him.
He shakes his head, the wind leaving him deaf. Seth is no longer by his side, Ryan realizes this. Ryan's alone now.
Divided... people get shot.
Ryan snorts.
Nobody got shot, but Ryan feels broken.
Finished: September 21st, 2004.