Malibu

There was a point when I considered my life to be over. I had signed away my rights and was shipping out to the military. I had fallen so deep into a pit of despair that the military was the only light left at the end of the tunnel. I had always held onto the military as a secret plan for escape. It was a possible reprieve from the debauchery, from the slippery slope of Sin City and all her wily ways.

I had spent my remaining time as a civilian with my friends, enjoying the last tastes of freedom, when we decided on one last trip to California. My best friend, her boyfriend, and Ryan, a random friend who happened to be up for a road trip, loaded up the car and headed to Malibu.

Ryan was a special kind of soul. He was a few years younger than me and not a person I ever thought about dating. He was a good-looking guy and always had a smile on his face, but I considered him one of the younger crew. A few years previous, Ryan and his small group of friends spent most of their days at my apartment, probably because of my boyfriend at the time (another story for another day), and possibly because it was a safe zone where they could be themselves without the pressures of their home lives. Ryan had been the quiet type, always observing and keeping to himself.

I don’t remember much of their exact situations, but at the time the guys still lived with their parents. I became fairly close to one of the crew, mainly because I had a massive crush on him. He was super cute, kind, and had a special kind of spark. In those days my self-esteem was so low that I always fell for the ones who I couldn’t have. I was drawn to take care of this guy and protect him. Something had gone down with his parents (alcoholics I think?) and he ended up living with us for a while. I remember taking him to school every day and making sure he was fed. I think about him sometimes and wonder if it made a difference in his life.

But I digress. This story isn’t about him, it is about Ryan. Ryan and Malibu.

My memories are hazy, but I remember driving to Malibu, eating dinner in a nice restaurant (nice for us anyway), spending some time on the beach, and going back to the hotel to drink and be merry. Ryan and I had agreed to share the pull-out sofa because why not? We were friends and trusted each other.

At some point in the night the space between us shrunk and we ended up in each other’s arms. It definitely wasn’t planned, and we were both surprised. It could have been the alcohol, or it could have been an unspoken mutual attraction. At the time it just felt right. I remember my friend and her boyfriend being very shocked the next day when Ryan and I held hands and shared kisses.

I’m not sure exactly how that time in Malibu ended. I know I shipped out to the military within the next week, probably within a few days. I know there was never going to be a relationship with Ryan, and that would have been clear from the beginning.

What I do remember is the feeling of Ryan. I can still see his smile, feel his touch, feel the essence of his soul. Ryan had always been kind and generous in the way the young with nothing to give seem to be. His honest adoration and attention filled me in those last days when I needed it most. I left my old life feeling seen.

Malibu is a time capsule containing two people who gave each other their heart without expectation. We mutually filled each other’s souls.

A year or so after joining the military I heard that Ryan had passed away. He had gotten into a really bad car accident and didn’t survive. I wasn’t able to go back for his funeral. I never saw him again after that weekend in Malibu.

Ryan has been on my mind lately, all these years later. I think about his smile and his energy. He had this vibe about him and a soul quality that was mellow and likable. I hope his soul found peace in the afterlife. I offer prayers for Ryan in hope that his soul is at rest. My thoughts go out to his friends and family.

And mostly, my gratitude goes out to Ryan for allowing me to share with him one perfect weekend in Malibu.