The original entry

I know that she called at around six, but I was out with the Cold Spring people. And I drove rather well. I drove to Kendall's house and even PARALLEL PARKED!!! Aren't you proud of me? I hope you are. I was.

I envy you. There isn't much more to say about this entry, but I do. For a while, you had these circles of close friends who would intersect. I don't have this at present. Once or twice a year--in years that are not beset by a pandemic--I manage to gather people for parties where we sit around and watch things. We don't load into someone's car without a clear plan and go where the night takes us. We have kids and pets who need our attention at home, early mornings for work.

I hope you enjoy every damned second of this time in your life.

I remember that you did, that you had endless hope that this was all permanent.

Then, after I picked up Kendall

Kendall will come up more, but she was important to you and deserves a little explanation now.

She was, for a time in your life, your best friend. I haven't spoken to her in fifteen years, not a single word.

She was short and fanatical about U2. She was clever and wry, so warm. Her home was a headquarters for the Cold Spring crew, so she became their de facto head.

Alison, mentioned earlier, was friends with her, then enemies. It had something to do with some much older man who seduced one of them, then the other. I don't know that he wanted either one. Much older men dating high school-aged young women tend not to care about them as more than a toy and conquest. Any man who thinks he has much in common with a sixteen-year-old is telling onlookers volumes.

You never met this man and couldn't recall his name if you tried. He was this concept on which your two friends bickered until Alison detested Kendall. (Did Kendall return the favor? No idea.)

(For the sake of fairness, when you are twenty-seven, you will date a first-year college student. You have other things to answer for, but you did love her, and you have the small excuse that she is a literal genius. You had learning disabled high school students older than her at the time, though, which was gross of you.)

It distresses me to know that Kendall was so important to you and I am struggling to remember more. She lifeguarded at a pool in Cold Spring. You walked there once to meet her and then you both watched the mountain across the Hudson as acres of it burned, as it had been burning for days. I remember parties at her house, though only faintly. Aside from that, it is hazy.

That is apart from that night the two of you went to the bar.

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Thomm Quackenbush is an author and teacher in the Hudson Valley. He has published four novels in his Night's Dream series (We Shadows, Danse Macabre, Artificial Gods, and Flies to Wanton Boys). He has sold jewelry in Victorian England, confused children as a mad scientist, filed away more books than anyone has ever read, and tried to inspire the learning disabled and gifted. He is capable of crossing one eye, raising one eyebrow, and once accidentally groped a ghost. When not writing, he can be found biking, hiking the Adirondacks, grazing on snacks at art openings, and keeping a straight face when listening to people tell him they are in touch with 164 species of interstellar beings. He likes when you comment.