DAVE

                I was never the smartest kid, or the most reliable.  I was never really motivated.  Not for anything.  I never excelled in school.  And all my life, no one told me to get my act together.  There was only one person who ever made me take a step back and look at my own life.  This was years ago, when I was only 20.  I don’t think he meant to teach me anything at all. 
                At that point, I had known Dave for three years.  Though I wouldn’t say that I actually knew him.  We lived in the same dorm buildings since I could remember.  I don’t remember exactly how we met, I just remember him always being around.  Everyone felt that way about Dave… he was everywhere, all of the time.  How did one person manage to be everywhere at once?  I’m not sure, but he managed just fine. 
         If you were walking to class… so was he.  In the cafeteria, there he was.  And again in the gym (though you wouldn’t think he’d be the type to go to the gym.)  And there he was… coming out of the bathroom as you were walking in. 
         Katie and I were outside enjoying one of our evening Camel Lights on what was possibly the coldest day of the year.  It was always a twenty minute process to bundle up just for that cigarette high that took only five minutes to accomplish.  We heard the massive door open with its initial squeaking which turned into a kind of a roar that made people cringe.  We turned to see Dave appear from behind the door.  He didn’t so much as glance up at us.  He continued to walk by swaying away like his body was dragging him on another painful adventure.  His head was down, looking at his feet as if they were controlling him and he didn’t know where they were going.  His shoulders seemed to permanently lean in toward his chest, making it easier for his hands to stay clutched to the insides of his pockets.
         “DAVE!” we yelled simultaneously.  He turned slowly, cocked his head to the side, and groaned, “What?”
         And routinely we asked, “Where are you going?” 
         “Don’t worry about it.”  He went on walking.  He never told us where he went, not in three years. 
         His secret life had us all intrigued.  Sometimes he would come back with shopping bags with names of stores printed on the sides so we didn’t have to ask.  But most of the time he would come and go empty handed, which swelled our imaginations.  We would make up scenarios about where he was going, or where he’d been.  Once, we imagined he’d taken the train to as far as it would go so he could go to a strip club and not be seen.  In our minds he was friends with the bouncers, and they would say to him, “What’s up buddy? How you doin?  Come on in, man.”  He wouldn’t have to wait outside in the line.  Then he would enter the club, chin up with all the confidence in the world, not at all embarrassed.  The girls inside would flirt with him, “Hey Dave, we missed you.”  And he would wink at them. 
         “I bet he’s wild,” Katie said. 
         “I highly doubt that.  He’s probably just going out for dinner or something.”
         “Alone?”
         But Dave did everything alone.  Not because of a lack of friends.  He had them.  He did the obligatory Friday night movie in the student lounge, but for the most part, he was alone.  He was the kind of uncomfortable kid who kept everything to himself.  For the longest time we didn’t think he even had a last name.  He was just “Dave,” kind of like “Madonna” or “Prince” but minus the glam and music career. 
         Four hours later, Katie and I were back outside with our Camel Lights.  We had been mid conversation about the current flooding on the first floor of the dorm when we heard a low, “Hi.”
         “Hi, Dave. How’s it going?”
         “Life sucks.” He walked inside without hesitation. 
         I waited until I heard the heavy door slam shut and his heavy footsteps stopped before I suggested to Katie, “Let’s follow him. I want to know where he goes. ”  She stood there with a blank stare, but I knew her well enough to know that her empty expression meant ‘absolutely’. 
         The next day we went to the corner store to buy a tape for my video camera.  On the way, we saw Dave walking on the opposite side of the street.  He was swaying back to school (we assumed).  When he heard a sound, any sound, he would turn his head with excitement and his shoulders would momentarily straighten from the center of his chest.  Every time these noises turned out to be nothing, his head and shoulders would fall back into their original positions.  Watching him walk made me tense and nervous.
         That night was the night we followed him.  We waited outside for him to leave the building.  He wouldn’t think anything of us being outside since we were always out there smoking.  When the door burst open, it startled us and we jumped.
         “Hi, Dave.  Where are you going?”
         “Don’t worry about it.”
         Katie and I looked at each other, our smirks as evil as one could imagine.  The image of Katie’s look is still burned in my memory.  We giggled and waited for him to walk ahead a little so he wouldn’t notice us trailing behind him.  And for a while the plan was successful.  We followed him for about a mile until we reached what we called train traffic.  This was the end of the line where train tracks criss-crossed and intertwined; making shapes in no particular pattern.  There were always several trains ‘parked’ in rows waiting for the next angry driver to bring them to their usual destinations. 
         Dave had yet to show us something of interest.  He would just keep swaying, and turning his head looking for something, like he always did.  So when he started weaving through all the trains like a labyrinth we became wide-eyed, ready to hit ‘record’ on the camera.  Now that he was out of view, we relied on listening to the sounds of the gravel moving under his bored, dragging feet. 
         We followed the sounds around and between the trains until the sounds finally stopped.  Katie squeezed my hand in fear and whispered, “What the hell happened?”  I didn’t have an answer for her.
         “Maybe his shoe untied?” was all I could say. 
         “Dude, his shoes are velcro.”
         “How the hell do you know that?” But she was observant, so I took her word for it.
         We waited and listened, but didn’t hear anything for what had felt like an eternity.  We continued to walk looking for Dave, peeking through train windows.  Nothing. 
         “Where the hell did he go?”
         “No clue.  How weird was that?”
We walked to the end of the rows discontent and confused.  We were about to go back to school… mission aborted.  But there he was.  Standing there, waiting to cross the street.  The train tracks between us acted as a line, a barrier.  One we didn’t want to cross.  We must have gasped, and he must have heard because he turned around and looked right at us. 
                No sigh.  No expression.  No exchange of ‘hellos’.  He just looked at us.  I thought I might have seen a glow in his eye from a build-up of tears. With each second that we looked at each other, the more horrible I felt about following him.  As my guilt started to peak, a train roared and Dave broke eye contact.  But he didn’t look at the train that was asking to be seen.  He looked away from it, away from us.  My eyes didn’t move.  I watched him until the moving train between us drew the curtain on our vision of him.  Even then, my eyes never moved.  When the train finally passed, Dave wasn’t there. 
                I don’t know why we followed him.  Maybe it was just curiosity around the mystery that was “Dave”.  Maybe we were just immature assholes hoping to exploit him, using him for our own entertainment.  And in a way, I guess we did.
Sadly, we didn’t see much of Dave after that.  We didn’t see him on campus often, and he stopped his adventures… which I blamed us for.  Eventually he even stopped going to class.  The next semester we didn’t see him at all.  We don’t know where he went, but he never came back to school.  I didn’t bother asking, or even imagining, where he had ended up because I realized that it wasn’t my place to know or assume. 
         There was something about Dave, something about that night that made me think.  Think about where he went all the time, why he was so secretive, and why anyone would want to live like that.  Most importantly he made me wonder why I was more intrigued by his secrets instead of my own life.  It was clear.  I relied on the lives of others to feel better about paying no attention to mine.  It was the same reason why people are so attracted to the lives of celebrities (Madonna, Prince, and now, thanks to my video camera, Dave).  I was afraid of life.  Afraid of failing, so I simply ignored it. 
         Indulging in other people’s lives was how I coped with fear.  And even now at the age of 28 and in control of my life, I’m still afraid.  But I’m taking it all in, much unlike my college days.  Wherever Dave’s last adventure took him, I hope that he’s happy and found something worth turning his head for.