The dead boyfriend discovery story

I was 17, and it was just after New Year’s. My Best Friend, three friends and I were cruising around, up to no good. I was driving.

Near to My Best Friend’s house, we saw stationary police lights.

“Hey, this is one of those checkpoints they’re doing to catch drunk drivers,” one of us said. I don’t know if this was a new practice, or just new to us, but we were curious about it.

We approached, but, being teen-agers up to no good, chickened out and turned the corner a block early. We went to My Best Friend’s house.

After a period of restlessness, we piled back into my car and went to watch the police catch drunk people. 

It wasn’t a checkpoint.

There was a motorcycle on the ground, and a boy lying very still. We couldn’t get close enough to get a good view, but we parked and stared.

“Best Friend,” I started hestitantly. “Doesn’t that look like David’s bike?” David was My Best Friend’s boyfriend.

“I guess,” she said casually, “but he’s working tonight.”

I got out of the car and walked over to an officer. I found out that the motorcyclist wasn’t carrying identification. They didn’t know who it was. I didn’t look at the boy. I acted casual to My Best Friend, “Let’s go back to your place.”

When we got there, still trying to appear calm, I suggested we call the grocery deli where David worked and see when he gets off. His boss said he got off early; he should be home by now. I said, “Hey we have nothing better to do, let’s call him at home and see if he wants to join us.”

His sister said he wasn’t home. He was at work. Was he wearing the new helmet he got for Christmas? No. Does he have his wallet? No, he forgot it on the dresser. Uh oh.

I don’t know now how I got the nerve, but I mentioned there was an accident around the corner from his house. I remember saying, “It’s probably nothing, but there was a motorcycle there.”

It was him, and he was dead.

He was hit by a Greyhound bus, the driver of which hadn’t taken his insulin and was declared to be completely at fault. Apparently this approximates driving drunk.

A few days later My Best Friend and I were alone in the mortuary viewing David. He looked different, rubbery. My Best Friend was sobbing.

It was one of my first experiences with death. It was profound. He was just there the other day, and now he doesn’t exist. Where is he? And wow, David knows what happens when you die.

But I learned something, too. If blood isn’t circulating, hickeys are forever.

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7 Responses to “The dead boyfriend discovery story”

  1. Lori Says:

    but was it best friends hickey?

  2. Toni Says:

    it was, and his neck was covered in them. it so weird, he was all dressed up in a suit with this neck all saggy like one of those wrinkly-too-much-skin dogs, covered in dark purple hickeys. the hickeys seemed contrary. they seemed to suggest life. his mother came in while we were there and started taking polaroids. i always thought that was bizarre, but who knows what i would do in that situation? now that i have a child of my own about the same age, i don’t know how she went on living.

  3. Mike Says:

    This story is a great mix of cheerfulness, love and realism. These seem to characterize your blog, which I just discovered (thank Doug for sending me the URL). I like it–even if this post was heavier than others on the realism. It’s all the stuff of stories.

  4. Boom Boom Says:

    That story has always freaked me out.

  5. Death upon death « Stories O' Mine Says:

    […] In January I told you about the time My Best Friend and I happened upon her boyfriend’s dead body. […]

  6. Death upon death « Stories O' Mine Says:

    […] In January I told you about the time My Best Friend and I happened upon her boyfriend’s dead body. […]

  7. Shannon Otero Says:

    After reading this, It all came back to me, I remember having a scrap book w/a photo of him in his coffin(his Mom must have given it to me), the scrap book is long gone but the memories are forever…..

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