A few days or weeks later, I joined the happy couple in Forsyth Park for some concert or another. The music was ok, but Kip proved to be a kindred spirit in my tormenting of Traci. There were those first awkward minutes when the new guy and the old friend exchange what the fuck is your deal glances, but mockery was common ground, and Poor Traci nearly drowned in a sea of jackass, commenting that she didn’t like the two of us together.

I don’t remember what exactly happened next. We had dinner a couple times, until that became a weekly routine for the three of us. He came to the TV station where Traci and I worked, and while she edited he’d wander in and chat while I made graphics. We ate at Olympia, and that Italian place on the corner of Congress and MLK, and I don’t know where else. I remember laughing my ass off, often at Traci’s expense. We talked about cars. Usually, he talked about cars and we pretended to understand.

He had a tattoo of a girl on his forearm, just like Little Pete had Petunia on the Nickelodeon show The Adventures of Pete and Pete. I still think that’s the single coolest thing anybody’s ever done.

Traci always said that Kip and I were too much alike. I guess that’s partly true, but I admired him for being good at the things in life that I blow at, how naturally he dealt with the people he took the time to deal with. I always felt that he’d take good care of Traci. She’s one of my best friends. She’s my sister. I love her like family, and I could never convey enough how good it made me feel to see her happy like that.

The three of us were almost like a sitcom for a while. Being part of a group, even when it’s only the bare minimum for a group at three people, is a pretty essential thing, and one that I’ve rarely had in the last seven years. Selfishly, I missed that when everything fell apart.

I won’t talk about the end. We all know it that need to know it. It was pure dumbass stupidity. Now we’ll never know the motives more than that.

Probably the last time I saw him, he came and sat down next to me in a coffee shop, just a couple days after the shit had hit the fan. I was mad and wanted to hate him. But I couldn’t. There was something sad about it all.

We talked about the whole situation, but to be honest I don’t remember anything that was said. Something generic for that sort of situation, I’m sure. You fucked up. Yeah. If you couldn’t kick my ass blindfolded, I’d kick yours. Yeah.

Right before I left, he said, “Fuck everyone else. They can hate me, man, and I don’t care. But I want to get to be ok with Traci, and I want to be ok with you. Once this is over, I hope we can be friends.”

I uttered something noncommittal. I mean, you don’t fuck with the family. I walked out.

I wanted to hate him. But it wasn’t until today that I realized why I didn’t. Because the only person that can hurt one of my friends and not be on my shit list forever is another friend. I was so goddamn pissed that I didn’t realize he was more than just ‘Traci’s boyfriend’. He was an idiot friend of mine. And now we don’t get the time to get over being pissed. And that’s what sucks.