I sat looking out the window of a small café as the rain poured down, pooling around the gutters and backing up into the street. Normally, I would have laughed at the absurd game of hop-scotch, as people jumped and skipped trying to avoid puddles and stay dry. Tonight was different though. Bobby was dead, killed by a stray bullet as he huddled over a child during a drive-by. Mike, Cindy, and I, had all flown home for the funeral, the four musketeers together one last time.  I watched as rain trickled down the window, forming tears; I guess the world was sorry too.

The café had been Bobby’s favorite hangout all through college, so here we sat listening to his silent chair laugh and tell stories. After a while Mike finally broke the silence ‘His mother isn’t taking it very well is she?’  

‘No,’ replied Cindy `I think his sister Becky is staying with her, but she keeps muttering about parents out living-children. The doctor's been keeping her pretty sedated.’   

`Do you think we should visit, or would it make things worse?’ Mike asked.  

`I don’t know,’ I said, already having made up my mind to see her in the morning. `But she hosted too many sleepovers and chased away too many closet monsters for me not to stop.’  

`I think you’re right,’ said Cindy. `Can I come with you?’

`Sure,’

‘I read in the paper that Bobby pushed the kid out of the way just in time,’ said Cindy ’they are calling him a hero.’  

‘I’d rather have him here right now,’ I said, ’eating crappy food and enjoying poor service.’  

‘What did Bobby see in this place anyway?’ asked Mike.  

‘Not what but who,’ I replied. ‘Remember that waitress, Carol?’  

‘Oh yeah,’ said Mike, ‘little bitty thing, blond hair.’  

‘That’s the one,’ I said, noticing Cindy color a bit. Shit, I’d forgotten they had a thing at the time. ‘Of course all the wet dreams were Cynthia here.’ I finished, earning a quick jab in the ribs.

‘Well, that’s ok,’ she said ’Carol is NOT, the only name I heard in his sleep.’ I felt the color rise to my cheeks, and knew by the glint of her eye that I was not going pursue that thought, and my glare warned Mike not too.

We spent the rest of the night remembering, laughing, and crying; He was special, our best friend, our first love, our hero.