By 2001 he was lying 6 foot under in a cemetry in NY.
I didn't go to the funeral. I could have gone, but consciously chose not to. Although I'm tempted to say that I have learnt to live with the regret, it would be a blatant lie and besides the point of this post. Ten years down the line, I am still haunted by that "concious decision". You see, there aren't that many things I remember vividly - I have a wonderful aptitude to forget what I cannot handle - but the day I received the news and made that decision is something I can describe in detail, even down to the smell in the room at the time.
I was temporarily living at my sister's place, in a small room with a large bay window and a modern, blue sofa bed. The room was cosy, had the delicate smell of Trésor (my perfume of choice at the time) and most importantly was mine. I was desperately trying to study for my finals when my mobile phone went off, I remember glancing at the screen and seeing AJ's name and rejecting the call. You see, AJ and I weren't on speaking terms and I really wasn't in the mood for another contest of who could yell the loudest, especially since the house was full (with my parents included). I was surprised when he insisted and continued calling. By the 6th call, my curiousity had peeked and I picked up. At first, I thought he was messing with me as I couldn't understand half of what he said - and then with perfect clarity I heard "Ice is dead". What happened next is the only part that is blurred in my mind, I don't remember what I said or how I felt. The next thing I do remember clearly is grabbing my coat, my cigarettes and my nephew and walking out. I must have said something to my parents and my sister because I vaguely remember her telling my mum to let me go.
I walked up that road, sobbing and smoking, and trying to explain to my very bemused nephew what had happened. A tad hard when I didn't know myself. I remember it being bitterly cold and my cheeks hurting from the freezing wind hitting my wet face. After what must have seemed to be an eternity to him, we walked back home. I went back up to my little room and made THE phone call. I spoke to AJ and told him that I wouldn't be going to the funeral, but that I'd be sending flowers in my own name, not together with anyone else. I said this all in one swift gush secretly hoping that AJ would just allow me to put down the phone and never speak of this decision ever again. I did put down the phone, but AJ just called me right back up... over and over, until I again finally gave in a picked up the phone.
He yelled like I had never heard - and have never since heard - him yell before. He screamed so much that at one point his voice gave in. Then he cried. And I cried. We must have been on that phone for more than 15 minutes just crying. In the end, it was him that put down the phone. It was another 5 years before I spoke to AJ again and we've never spoken about those two phone calls.
At the beginning of this post, I said that Ice had changed my adult life without even knowing it. He had already changed me before he died, when I was still doing a lot of maturing and growing up in QdC, but I don't think he attributed any of my emotional development to himself at any point in his life. To clarify, Ice was 6 years my senior and a nonstereotypical male: mature, responsible, independent and honest. Ice-cold honest, hence the nickname. I loved hanging out with him and his stereotypically-male-in-his-early-20s brother. They were older, funnier, and just down-right more exciting than any of my school friends... Plus they had the added bonus of having a lot of other male friends, which at the time really improved my status at school.
But Ice didn't make it easy for me. He wouldn't take "blubbering", hated it in fact. Couldn't handle hysteria, despised it. And would never, ever tolerate "girl-isms". That was all fine with me, after all I had a group of girlfriends with whom I could do the hysterical blubbering and discuss boys, periods, make-up and hairstyles. I didn't need him for that. I needed, craved even, his honesty. His brutal outspokeness demanded a level of mental development that most times I didn't have, but I always went back for more. I wanted to be ready for his candid approach to life, I needed to be.
For three years, I developed an air-tight friendship. I never once crushed on him or him on me. It was one of the few relationships I can hand-on-my-heart say was purely platonic. We lived different moments of our lives - me in high school, him finishing university - but shared all our explorations and expectations. He would rein me in whenever my adoloscent mind went wondering and I would curb his cruel candor (or try to).
And then in 1998, I moved back to England. Fortunately, the internet was already acessible and email kept us in touch with each other's lives, but try as we might, it was never quite the same. Whenever I would visit QdC, I'd make sure his was the second house on my list (the first being my parents'). I remember one year in particular I had managed to annoy my mother within 10 minutes of my arrival by announcing I was visiting Ice when low-and-behold the doorbell rang. He knew that my mum would flip out so he had decided to come to my place and hang out there. "Two birds, one stone", he said. I think it was only at that moment that he really started to be accepted by my parents.
I've never had such a close friendship with anyone else since. I've had, and have, close friends, but it's different. Ice had already changed the way I looked at people even before he died, but after his death I placed him on a pedalstool so high that no one could ever come close. If I'm honest, I don't particularly want anyone to be remotely close to attaining that level of platonic intensity with me. You see, people die and I don't want to consciously make another bad decision. I took time to allow my husband to see the real me, but considering he lived with me and I loved him it wasn't really like I had much of a choice, with someone from the "outside" I have a choice.
I am by no means belittling my close friends or my family. They have helped me in so many difficult times, I'm not sure I would even know how to thank them. I love them all profoundly... But in my darker moments, I still close my eyes and imagine my good friend Ice telling me to suck it up, hold my head up and move on. And in those especially dark moments, I imagine his hugs - there weren't many, but by god they were perfectly timed.
RIP CTTA
