Sam finally lost his patience. “You did a stupid thing, asshole.
Now shut up; I don’t want to hear any more about it. Your friend is dead, you
killed him, and you are going to be locked up for a long time.”
With those few words, Sam’s demeanor transformed, and it
stayed that way for as long as I knew him. He was no longer a happy-go-lucky,
irresponsible 20-year-old. Instead, his persona was a blend of seriousness,
negativity, and hard-heartedness. He never mentioned it, but I couldn’t help
but think the shooting was a stark reminder of how dumb the two of us had been
when we had practiced a few quick draws ourselves. We didn’t have as much fun
on liberty from that day on. Then came the bar fight and we drifted apart.
The friend sitting across from me today was an older version
of that kid who got a wake-up call back at Lejeune. He seems to internalize his
emotions and there’s no telegraphing what he’s thinking. I don’t know whether
he would back me up if trouble came my way. I wouldn’t want to count on it.
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