Wit And I Against Reality

        I have a friend. I don’t feel comfortable telling you his name, so let’s just call him Wit, since that’s the name he gave himself in his stories. “Wit” in the stories he wrote, was witty (go figure) and brave. Wit in real life is one of my best friends and the man who has pushed me to be the best writer I can be, believing in me from day one. He and I trained our imaginations to such an extent that we would cry when our pretend characters would die, laugh at inside jokes that our imaginary group of friends had, and even convinced ourselves that we were brothers destined for adventure. We did have a couple of adventures, but we never did go on that fanciful journey that we collectively dreamed up. Instead, we grew older and older, both dreading the day when Reality rears its ugly head and takes away everything we created. 

I remember the night this fear was born under the guise of Death. Death is a Reality, and Reality is Death. We had a sleepover, and after a day of Minecraft and cartoons, we were ushered up to my room by my mother, wanting us to sleep. As we stared through the darkness, Wit asked a question. 

“What do you think happens after you die?” Although hardly an uncommon question, it is not normally one asked by a ten-year-old 

“I dunno, guess you go to Heaven,” I responded. I had never given it much thought.
“Y’really believe that?”

“I mean, either that or Hell, right?” I giggled at the swear. 

“I… Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he conceded. The darkness in the room resonated and pulsed like a heartbeat.

“What do you think?” I asked him.  He took a moment to answer. I heard him shuffle as if the thoughts he had made him uncomfortable. 

“I don’t think there’s anything.”

“What do you mean?”  

“I think when you die, you just… fall. Forever. Y’don’t feel pain or anything, just like a leaf falling off a tree, floating through blackness towards soft grass that you will never get to see the green of. Barreling through darkness forever.” (I know what you’re about to say, but yes, as a ten-year-old, he talked almost exactly like this, although I’m sure my memory and retelling of this moment have taken a couple of creative liberties.)

I took a moment to think about it. There was a pang in my chest, a nameless pain that I would soon come to know as the burden of Reality. However, I ignored it and smiled. 

“Sounds kinda fun. It’d just be like flying. I wouldn’t mind that too much. And you said we probably wouldn’t feel anything anyway right?” 

“Yeah, probably not.” 

“That means we wouldn’t feel scared, right? I think that sounds peaceful.” 

I could hear his turn towards me, along with the melancholy in his action. 

“I dunno man, wouldn’t it be lonely? Infinite darkness doesn’t exactly sound calming.” Wit said.

“I’m sure we’d all find each other. We have forever, don’t we? Bound to happen eventually.” 

He laughed softly. 

“I guess you’re right. Then just stick with me till then, alright?” 

“Of course, buddy,” I told him. 

Then my mom came in and yelled at us for being up too late. We said goodnight and closed our eyes. However, as we both pretended to sleep, an air of unease hung in the room. We’d come to a wholesome conclusion, but the fear of that vast and empty nothingness seeped into our skin and stayed with us. I can still feel it on me as I’m writing this, that fearful substance. Just like that, Reality took its unbreakable grip on us, invited in by our curiosity.

This persistent anxiety built with age, and instead of dealing with it like normal people, Wit and I decided to punch it out. We both prided ourselves on our pain tolerance and although we let our ego tell us how efficient this pain tolerance was rather than our physical bodies. We just told ourselves, ‘If Batman can take hits, why can’t we?’  So, whenever he came over, we would all go to the pool. There was this shallow pool, about a foot deep. We called it “The Baby Pool”, but when it was past the bedtimes of said babies, we turned it into our own little fight club. After a while, it gained a bit of traction, but in the beginning, it was just Wit and me, kicking and punching our frustrations away. I don’t remember what the catalyst was, but I remember shaking hands when we were both around fourteen, taking a goofy bow, then starting the battle. 

I threw the first hit, an apprehensive jab on the shoulder. He didn’t even flinch. Wit was quite a bit bigger than me, and he definitely wasn’t slow. He jabbed my shoulder in retaliation, and I could feel the bruise forming. Something about the pain made the fear in my skin fade, even if just a little. I looked up at him, and he stared at me curiously, unsure of whether or not to continue, but when he saw the fire in my eyes I knew that we both felt that same cure. I dashed towards him and jabbed at his chest, digging my knuckles into his skin. His hook cracked into my stomach, winding me. I stumbled back into the shallow water, and he jumped onto me, pinning my arms, just barely allowing my head up past the water.

“Whatcha gonna do now? Tap out.” Wit announced. I looked at him defiantly. Then, I pushed my chest down, leveraging my legs up and grabbing his chest, pulling him down to the pool floor. I jumped up and swiped the water from my eyes.

“Won’t be that easy.” I felt like a superhero as I said that, cheesy as it was. My side ached, but I let the pain sink in, accepting its warmth. He rose from the water and lumbered towards me. He drunkenly threw a swing, and despite my shoulder roll, it still stung. I tried something new, a low kick, attacking the back of his kneecap to bring him to the floor, but he grabbed my leg and threw me off of him. After regaining my balance, I rushed forward, and we traded punches to the chest, holding back just enough. We kicked, punched, tackled and grabbed, laughing and grinning like idiots the whole time. I remember how it ended most vividly. I was by the corner of the pool and Wit closing in, as if protecting the middle of the pool. Our breathing was ragged. We were black and blue all over. 

“You alright?” I ask.

“Yea, but those boney ass knuckles of yours are sharp as hell.”

“Well, they’ve got a bit more digging to do.” I jabbed. Wit laughed, and so did I.

“Ima getcha back for that one.”

“Come and try. Nerd.”

He jabbed at me a couple of times, and I blocked them with my forearms. His hits were getting weaker. I took the chance and threw a flurry of punches, finding ways around his blocks. Then, one of my punches hit his stomach. It was a solid punch, my most satisfying hit so far. He buckled over and sucked in air, and then smirked from ear to ear.

“That… was a good hit.” He said through strained breaths.

“Good enough to get you to tap out?” I reached out my hand.

“You lil bastard.” He took my hand and I pulled him up. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll beat your ass in Smash Bros.” And he did.

One night, in particular, stands out more than most. There was this park that I lived close to, and it was right next to the pool. So after swimming, Wit, my other friends and I would go to the park just to screw around. It was getting dark, so there wasn’t anyone there except for us insolent children. We messed around on the swings, trying to see who could get the highest after jumping off, played a bunch of games we would play when we were kids, and laughed whenever someone fell over. After we were all bored, we all sat in the larger tower of the playground and ate some snacks we had bought at the store we’d been buying from since we were kids. I don’t really remember why, but I scrambled my way up onto the dusty roof of the tower. My friends questioned me and my sanity, but Wit crawled up with me. After him, one by one we pulled each other up and managed to fit all of us onto the steep roof, making the plastic groan under each added weight. We sat there, staring at the newly perceivable stars, talking about people we liked and people we didn't, reminiscing about the life we lived and the life we haven’t lived yet. It was a quiet moment despite the chatter. There was an ominous tone. We knew why, but no one was brave enough to say it. After all these years, Wit was leaving. Moving away wasn’t a big deal, we had all had friends who moved before, but this one was a little different. Wit was different. 

But we were just a couple of teens. Teens who had grown up together watching Batman, so we all said nothing and pretended it didn't bother us. Pretended we were strong enough not to mind that he was leaving. Instead, we talked about video games and gossiped, trying to enjoy every second without thinking about the looming threat of our friend leaving. It was Reality after all. People leave. I guess we just didn’t think it would happen so soon. 

The day Wit left was the day that the fantasy truly died. My family held a little going away party for him with all our friends. My mom and brother cried more than I did. Everyone else who knew him well cried more than I did. He and I just smiled and laughed, enjoying our last moments together for a while. We’d see each other again, at our weddings, for road trips, on vacations, whatever. Hell, we are going to see each other in about a month for the first time in years. 

However, although we knew we weren’t losing our friendship, we didn’t understand that the element of enchantment we’d accumulated over the years would be lost. The fear on our skin that we had realized so many years ago had finally sunken in completely. We didn’t know it till years later, when we would look back on our childhood and realize how far we’d come, and shutter at the crushing weight of how far we had left to go. Having said that, maybe growing up won’t be that bad. We can’t escape adulthood, just like we couldn’t escape Reality. But, just like the punches we took when we used to spar, we’d take on this new adventure and everything it threw at us, and we’d do it with smiles on our faces. When we finally come face to face with actual Reality, with Death herself, maybe we’ll greet her with a smile too. Hopefully, we enjoy the rest of the ride till then.