The Good Friend

Short Story Day 158 of 365

Paul was alone on the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport shuttle thinking about his trip to Newark. He kept looking in the driver’s mirror and watched as the driver wiped away tears from his cheeks.

“Something the matter, my friend?” Paul asked.

The driver nodded.

“Something I can help you with?”

“No. Not really, man.”

The driver turned the corner going more than he should have.

“Sorry about that,” the driver said. “Just a little upset, that’s all. No, really upset.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I lost a great great friend today.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry to hear about that,” Paul said. “Tell me about him. A him, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. Ah man, best friend a man – or anyone – could ever have,” the driver said. “Kind. Compassionate. Gentle. Great artist. Creative. Just a fantastic all around great friend. Nothing bad to say about him…at all. Ever. He left us way too early.”

“Sounds like someone I would’ve liked to have met.”

“Yeah, me too. Wish I had met him in person myself,” the driver said.

Paul paused and looked into the mirror. His eyes darted from side to side. Had he heard correctly? The driver was wiping more tears away.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do without him,” the driver said.

Paul cleared his throat and asked, “So you’ve never met this friend of yours?”

“Who me? Noooo. Prince was unapproachable for us regulars, man, us normals. Gone too early. Way too early, man.”

“Prince? The Purple Rain guy? Hmm. Interesting.”

The awkward silence merely accentuated each bump on the road.

“Whelp, here’s my stop, Blue Skies Airlines, my friend,” Paul said. “Thanks for the lift. Hope your grief doesn’t weigh you down too much. It’ll be okay. You’ll pull through this.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Thanks for your concern. These are trying times. We all mourn for him.”

“Mmm hmm. Sorry again for your loss.”

“Thanks,” the driver said. “Thanks a lot.”