Late Summer- Early Fall 1989
I was 19, just starting college when I ran into my ex-girlfriend's best friend. This ex and I had kind of a bad break-up, so I wasn't sure if her friend would want to talk to me. I was not prepared for what happened; upon seeing me, she stopped walking, shocked at the very sight of me.
"Pete, I thought you were dead!"
Because I am so very quick on the uptake, I immediately responded with a, "No!"
It turns out that someone from my past had told her that I had drowned at the beach a month before. It was Tommy, my former next store neighbor that I punched once; which was one of my least proud day, I even wrote a post about it. I was at the Indian River Inlet beach, like he said, but I wasn't (that) drunk and I certainly didn't drown. Since it had supposedly happened a month before she found out, she didn't check the news to see if it was true; she even almost called my parents.
I had no idea why Tommy would have said something like that, unless his sense of revenge has a shelf life of more than 5 years. I had even seen him at a party where I met the ex a few months prior, but I thought that he didn't recognize me. I had a lot more hair then than I had 7 years prior- or now for that matter. Most of the kids at the party were my age- 19- and Tommy was very conspicuous being the youngest person there- about 14. It seemed like his brattiness had flowered into delinquency, drinking and smoking pot with the older kids, who were visibly freaked about a 14 year-old grabbing their joint. If he knew who I was, he didn't say so.
Which brings my back to my death. We talked about it, and we decided that her friend should tell her I was still alive. As fun as it would have been to do, I couldn't in good conscience call her and go:
"This is Pete calling....FROM THE GRAVE!"
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