Alaskan Amber Night-Personal Narrative

Eddie walked out of the boats shower with nothing but a towel on, a small line of blood sliding down his forehead from where he had cut himself whilst shaving. He did a little dance and said something about a Spike Lee movie he had been watching. He smelled of leather and tobacco. Then serving up some rice into a small bowl, grabbing a spoon, he sat down and motioned for a can of cola. I reached into the boats mini fridge and handed him one. “Alaskan Amber night, Alaskan Amber night boy” he said, rocking back and forth grinning; his dead eye floating aimlessly as if it were looking out the side of the boats starboard window, off into the distance. It was a late Saturday night and Eddie was excited that our boat was heading inland. The stress of not working on a fishing boat was bad, and getting obliterated via draft beer and dope sounded like a good way to forget about my drama back home. Later that evening, each of us seven beers deep, Eddie and I sat outside of the Pit Bar. “I need that head like a dike, she got that head that I like”, Eddie said to me with a subtle smirk, motioning to

We talked about Alaska. We talked about church and my parents. We talked about traveling and sports and the farm. We didn’t talk about Haley and we didn’t talk about our fights. Our conversation stayed light, but it meant so much. The simple act of having a civil conversation made us both realize that our dispute was over. The damage from our actions, had already been done, the lines in our faces said enough. We both knew that our friendship was over. We knew that we had both made mistakes and that our hearts would have to deal with that - and that was bad enough. We had decided to forget the past and start a new. No smiles, no handshakes, or hugs, were needed. Nothing was the same, and as we pulled into my parent’s driveway. I felt content for the first time in a long time. The “fighting days” were