Ryan frowned at me earnestly. I struggled to look him in the eye. We both knew what was going down. The same thing that went down every single time we did this. Nine times out of ten at least. The funny thing was that we both desired and feared the inevitable. A bottle of Vodka. That was going to rule the night, there were no two ways about it. In theory we were supposed to catch a movie. That was never actually going to happen. I was late - we missed the film. I couldn't help but wonder if I had subconsciously arrived late on purpose...
Later, sitting on the steps next to the War Memorial, we talked of our plans for the future as we drank cups of tepid vodka and flat ginger ale. Conversation flowed through the humid night, each sip adding a layer of joyous mist to the proceedings. Bats swept out of the giant figs and flew millimetres from the surface of the park's artificial lake, scooping water into their mouths and returning to the sky.
There's something comforting about maintaining a friendship throughout a lifetime. Having known Ryan for over half of my life, I can see how the patterns that had formed during our youth were manifesting themselves as we matured, like the features of a boy's face hardening into the shape of a man's. We share dreams that have been growing for over a decade, true dreams of the kind that can't be shared with strangers, for fear of appearing crazy or foolish. So there we were, two fools sharing our dreams and a bottle of Vodka.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
