I'm not too fond of this romantic song. God, I hate it when sappy shit like that gets stuck on Replay inside my cranium. Actually, I hate it when any song I don't like gets stuck in my head period.

Si te he dado todo lo que tengo, hasta quedar en deuda conmigo mismo... Y todavia preguntas si te quiero, �t� de que vas?

God. I don't even know who sings it. Probably some dipshit who sits on stage during concerts and strumms an acroustic guitar with a few chest hairs peeking provocatively from a button shirt that's been left tastefully halfway open. Or some shit like that. Typical Romeo.

I don't know what I'm doing up at this hour updating. Shit's been happening, as it always does, in a blur too insignificant to mention now. Yet I feel the craving to... well, I can't call this writing, now can I? Write I can do, and quite easily at that. I have a notebook specifically for writing down my thoughts. It's called the Bruise. I'll be damned if I ever call it a Journal or Diary. But no, not tonight. Tonight, I wanted to update this shit. The Hermit and the Sea, I called it when I first started this shit way back when. God, I think my first entry dates back to the days when Marco was still alive.

Marco. Always the kid. It all comes down to him, really. Even today. Even this. Yes, this. This is for you, kid, about you, kid, you hear me kid? Of course you can't.

Aaron came up to talk to me today, something he hasn't done in quite a while. Or perhaps I just haven't let him. Perhaps I've been treating him like the piece of shit he is. Yes, I've said it before, and I'll mention it again, for those that are slow on the uptake: I can be a complete and total asshole. Most of the times, I am. Completely and totally.

Aaron and I started losing touch with each other ever since Denise got hired and placed in ODC. They hit it off, we didn't. It's simple as that. I've heard of rock-solid friendships that have been around for years fall apart when a woman gets involved, and Aaron and I were hardly what you'd call friends. We weren't, however, just the average coworkers. He was my bro' is all. There's no other word I can use to describe it. That word was special, I used it only for him, when referring to him or about him, Aaron. He was my bro'. We were the best of comrades. We worked smoothly together, made an excellent team. It's like we read each other's minds when it came to running the Sort. He and I, why, we could take on the whole fuckin' warehouse if you just gave us the chance. We didn't need anyone else. All he needed was me, and I him. It's why we had each other's cell phone numbers (and why he still has mine on speed-dial). Denise came, and she changed everything.

From the start, she showed an unabashed interest for Aaron, which I didn't mind, and he in her, which I didn't mind... much. Okay, it kinda bothered me, but it wasn't jealousy. At first I thought it was, thought maybe I was just being paranoid in thinking I was loosing my best [team]mate. But that's not what really bothered me. Denise could have Aaron for all I gave a damn, could keep him all to herself, and he keep her too. It's just... he started changing after a while. Changing because he was around her, with her all the time. He stopped caring about the rythm of the warehouse, keeping the boxes moving, helping the team work smoothly as usual. In fact, he forgot all about working at all. It was all about "Ooo, Aaron, look, feel my legs to see I shaved" and "Stop it!" when we all knew she wanted more. It became all about the glances and the giggles and the touch me here and write on my there with that sexy marker you got there baby. It was disgusting. Worst of all, he forgot about me.

I couldn't keep up all the work we used to do together, not alone. He stopped caring. And my load, in turn, got heavier. But I shut my mouth, because this was my bro' we were talking about, let him have his fun, I'll hack it for a while. Then a while became months, and my back got broader from all the weight. I grew used to handling alone what we once did together. The only good thing that came of this I believe was that I finally began to focus on the rest of the FDC team as individuals instead of just background music. Zamira and Juan came to fill the void that Aaron left, both workwise and friendwise. I guess I learned to live without the kid around. Kinda like I had to grow used to living without Marco. (Because I have grown used to life without him, believe it or not.)

I don't know when it is that my frustration with Aaron became resentment, but it gets even worse than that. My silent anger, I think he could deal with. He just took mock offense at it, and played victim. He pretended he was the one who should be mad at me for being ticked off at him for not working, and he refused to speak to me at times. What he didn't realize though, what he was completely unprepared for, was for what comes after the furious sorrow of losing trust in someone: for I became indifferent. I stopped caring. Stopped giving a shit. And that stopped him right in his tracks. I caught him staring at me with a mixture between yearning and puzzlement. He couldn't quite figure out what it was that was different about me, and to this day, I'm not even sure he has. But suddenly I would laugh loud and long with Juan, with Zamira, or with Alex, the new girl from ten years ago all my life. I never excluded him from the conversation, but I unconsciously turned my back to him and only spoke to him when absolutely necessary. I used to pat him on the back after a hard day, but that became a custom reserved for Juan after a while, for Aaron stopped having hard days a long time ago, in my opinion. Then it was Zamira who got the smiles full of light from my eyes, it was that small lady that won over a very special part of me; I respect her much to this day. Denise I never liked, so she didn't miss out on much, but Aaron... Aaron I left floundering. We stopped having meaningful conversations about jack shit and it all became business talk between him and me. I started doing something I had thought I would never do with anyone, much less with him: I started bossing him around, using my seniority as leverage.

Now another sappy-ass song playes in my head. This time I know the band, Sin Bandera, but I barely know any of the lyrics. Their voices are playing in a melodious slur inside my head.

Suelta mi mano ya, por favor. Te entiendo pero entiendeme a mi. No puedo mas con este dolor y una lagrima... bla-bla-bla-blah mi...

Today he came and looked for me, stopped to talk a bit. It startled me, for I thought I'd pushed the kid away from those habits a long time ago. (Part of me can't help thinking that I've shoved him further into Denise's arms, like I've cornered him there. Certain days he looks simply frustrated at her -- probably for being such an airheaded dipshit -- but he's got no one else to talk to anymore. Partly because I've closed all the doors on him, as has the rest of the team. Dud says it's all his fault, that he asked for it, but just as well.)

He makes some small talk about a dream he had, and then drives on to a deeper point. And I know it was a point he was trying to make, for he repeated himself several times, just to make sure I got it right. Alex/Mar�a was there, and this is what the conversation went, somewhat (with my dramatizations added, of course. Otherwise, where's the damn fun?):

Aaron: "Hey," (to get my attention) "What was that you had said about dreaming about teeth and stuff?"

I stared at him blankly, partly because I wasn't sure what he'd said, and mostly because I wasn't sure it was me he was talking to. I raised my eyebrows. "What?"

"That thing you said once. About dreaming that your teeth fall out? Was it money, or death or something like that?"

Whoa, that had been a shitload long time ago. Like before-Denise-got-hired long ago. Maybe even as far back as last year long time ago. To be honest, I don't really remember telling Aaron anything about dreams. I shook my head to clear it. "Let me think," I said, looking down and shutting my eyes in a forced effort to remember.

I couldn't do it, so I glanced over my shoulder (I was working on Juan's computer) at Mar�a. "Hey - Alex - do you know anything about dreams?"

She'd been listening in on our conversation, and she did a very bad job of pretending not to be paying attention. "Oh? What? Dreams?" I could have booed at her. "What did you dream?" This aimed at Aaron.

He shrugged and repeated something he had just mumbled to me but I had been too stunned to grasp.

"I'm not too sure what I was dreaming, but then all of a sudden I reached into my mouth and pulled out a tooth. And then all of a sudden all my teeth began to fall out, so all my teeth fell out!" He laughed uneasily (in case it meant death, I'm sure). Alex and I chucked with him, she cynically, me quietly. Just like I can be an asshole, my friend Mar�a can be a real bitch. But in a completely different way than me that makes me uncomfortable.

Apparantly it made Aaron uncomfortable too, because he tried not to look or speak to her but directed himself with me instead. "Do you think it's money?"

I looked down and pretended to think, but I didn't need to, for I had come completely to my sixth and seventh senses while he spoke. Death. If you believe in those things, of course. But how to tell him? Without worrying him or hurting him in someway? "I'm not sure..." I began, but Mar�a jumped in, the whore.

"No, no," she said flatly. (She's not too fond of Aaron, and I'm sure she was aiming to bother him.) "It means someone is going to die."

I wanted to smack her then, but Aaron merely shrugged and looked at me expectantly. I nodded. "I think she's right," I said slowly, cautiously. Did he know someone who was sick? I didn't dare ask. He's going on the road tomorrow. Car accident? Heavens, no, please. "You're going out of town tomorrow, aren't you?" I asked. He nodded. "How far are you going?"

"San Antonio," he replied. I nodded. I'd figured as much.

"Be careful on the road," I advised. It was all I could think of to say. But then Mar�a was back in the conversation again.

"No, it usually means it's someone you know, not you." She told him matter-of-factly, as if she were a world renowed expert on the subject. All Sister Chleo and shit. "But what do you say? 'Doesn't matter, as long as it isn't me!' " She laughed, and so did Aaron, but his was incredulous. "That's messed up," he commented, and I saw distaste in his eyes for her. I'd figured as much on that was well. Mar�a is hard to get along with, whether under her real name or that Alex alias of hers.

"I dunno, it was weird," Aaron continued after a while. "And then today, Ruben shows up with this big ol' tooth in his pocket..." Oh yeah. Ruben had his wisdom tooth pulled yesterday. Of course he was gonna bring it in to work to show it off. "Although yesterday I didn't know that was why he didn't come to work, but still, it freaked me out." I nodded to show I understood. That's when he said, "Or maybe I dreamed it because today's the anniversary of my best friend's death."

I frowned. Damn, that's sad. To lose your best friend.

But he had gone on talking about something else, although he made a point to repeat the deathday anniversary thing twice before continuing on his random casual talk with Alex. I knew it was important to him, though, so I interrupted them and prompted: "So... how old was your friend when he died?"

Aaron looked away from Alex and into my eyes. "Sixteen," he said.

My mouth felt dry and my stomach cold. Sixteen. I considered that for a while, then smiled sadly. "Really? A good friend of mine died when he was sixteen also." Marco. It always came down to Marco, and now, Aaron was meeting him through memory for the first time, if only briefly. Mar�a looked at me knowingly. I pushed on. "He was killed in a car accident." And that was all I could muster before my thoat closed up.

Aaron nodded, sensing, I guess, more than seeing any real pain in my eyes. You sense pain instead of seeing it after a while, especially when it's been years after the death. Your body grows used to the absense before your mind does, I think, because you stop crying and keep on living before you really realize they're gone forever. At least, that's the way it was with me, and by Aaron's casual half-smile and talk, it's the same way with him too.

"Well, my friend didn't die like that," he said with a shrug. "He overdosed."

Mar�a's laugh, though nervous for lack of words, was very inappropriate at that moment. "Man... that's fucked up," she faltered. "Well, I don't mean that he's dead, it's just..."

Yes, I thought. It's just that he asked for it? Mar�a can be so heartless. And the distaste in Aaron's eyes became dislike just like that. (*snaps fingers*) And I don't blame him. You either love Mar�a, or you hate her. She's damn lucky she's on my lovey-dovey side.