Friends Lie

This is an earlier draft of an essay that appears in my collection of essays which you should, of course, own right? Why? Well, let me tell you why you should buy the Raised by Turtles book.

I can’t sleep. It’s 3am. What’s it all for? What’s the point? 

I remember reading that when the economy is bad, single-vehicle accidents rise. People drive into bridge abutments. Accidents, they call them.

I pick up the phone and put it down. It’s too late to call someone. I think about bridge abutments some more. I need to get outside my own head. 

I pick up the phone again. I have to talk to someone, but I can’t wake someone up at 3am, no matter what.

I’m tired of thinking of bridge abutments. I punch in the number. It rings. Once. Twice. Three times. I should hang up. Four times. No answer. Fuck it. Bridge abutments again. Five times. Christ it’s late. Hang up. Hang up. Hang up.

A groggy, hoarse, confused voice answers. “Hello?”

“Ty, it’s Ken. Sorry to wake you up. I just really need to talk to someone.”

“Hey. Uh. I… hey… yeah… uh, no problem. I was, uh, up anyway. Couldn’t sleep. What’s up? How can I help?”

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