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It's a forty-five minute drive from Nathan's house in North Brunswick to the shore at Sandy Hook. He doesn't usually come this time of year, or this time of day; it's too cold in early April to swim. But he had a dream that burned itself into him, urging him to go, not letting him think about anything but his new destination. It said "Nathan, the air you breathe there will be different. It will help you to be human again."

And the air down the shore at sunrise is so cleansing, you can taste yourself in the salty strands of the wind and stare at the vast blue mess of ocean that never gets boring and never stops, never stops. Nathan has always wondered what it is about the sea that attracts all people, that makes men sail in search of nothing and never return. He's not a beach bum by any definition, but Jah Almighty he does love that water, that water crashing down on his feet.

He comes to the ocean to forget, and to remember.

This ocean is different from the Hawaiian ocean. Yes, a smartass could argue that there is no difference, that they are all the same. Technically. But they are worlds away, they are like different planets. He supposes one could surf on this ocean, but he wouldn't recommend it. The riptide here is so strong that he was not allowed in the water until he was ten, and then not that deep at all.

But in Hawai'i he watched Tony surf. He was so fascinated by the way Tony's body was completely one with the board and consequently with the wave, with the air and the fish and the sun. Tony had never belonged in Jersey. He had been designed for somwhere like Jamaica, or yes, Hawai'i. Tony's father is Hawaiian, from the Big Island. Sometimes they would jokingly call him haole.

It used to piss him off, a little. But Tony said that if anyone else called him that it'd be the last thing they ever said. Nathan was the only one who knew that Tony wasn't kidding. Tony was never kidding when it came to Nathan, his little haole.

Tony was the baddest surfer there, when they went to Honolulu to visit Tony's grandmother. Nathan wanted to smack him and say Tony, STAY HERE. You belong here more than I belong in Jersey. I'd miss you, but you'd be so happy.

Truth be told, in a selfish kind of way, Nathan would have been very mad if Tony had in fact stayed. Because how they started was so different from how they ended.

Nathan saw himself as this fly buzzing around Tony, an annoyance, something to be tolerated. He doesn't remember how they met initially, but after a certain point, maybe around age six, Nathan has no memory, no significantly important memory without Tony. But never once did he say, "Oh, Tony Victorino, that's my best friend." They didn't work like that. It was on a deeper level that can be achieved only once in a lifetime.

Some people couldn't tell that he and Tony were close at all, because they never acted like prototypical pallies. They didn't hang out a lot outside of school and their neighborhood, andthey liked different baseball, baskeball, AND football teams so watching games usually ended in an argument and a few days of not speaking to each other. But Tony was always there, without question.

Tony was there when Nathan's parents died in that horrific car crash that Nathan should have been in. He should have gone with them, and he should have died too. Nathan's older brother was despondent, and no help at all. So the first time Nathan contemplated suicide, it was while he was sitting next to his other older brother, and he said the words and he didn't mean to. They fell out of his mouth and struck Tony, and he knew that they hurt him worse than anything else Nathan might have said.

He doesn't even remember exactly what it was that he said, he doesn't remember where the thought came from in the first place. All he can see when he thinks of that night is Tony's terrified face, and now he realizes what Tony was asking him with his pained eyes. I know that you lost your parents and your brother doesn't care about you anymore, but I'm here. Am I not good enough? And he remembers Tony only being able to think of one logical action, to wrap his strong arms around Nathan's frail body and cry with him. Nathan had bruises for a week from where Tony dug his fingers into Nathan's back in desperation.

Nathan remembers the feel of Tony's dreads on his hands, the coarse hair twisted to neatly and kept so clean. If Nathan was the haole, Tony was the natty dread, the Tuff Gong to Nathan's Skilly. They needed no one. They had enough between them to live off. But they weren't best friends. They weren't best friends.

It kills him to be here on this sand, twiddling his toes through the pebbles and shells. He and Tony occupied this same locale for summers on end, and they never wanted to leave. They would lay down side by side and count clouds, making imaginary pictures and stories even after it sopped being cool to play pretend. Tony would shut his eyes and relax while Nathan made up ridiculous adventures about finding Atlantis off the coast of Manhattan and silly poems about red balloons.

Every once in a while they'd sneak spliffs and coffee down just for the hell of it and the ocean was that much more soothing during those nights. Tony would make fun of Nathan for drinking his coffee black, straight up. It was one of the stranger times when all of a sudden Tony reached over and ruffled Nathan's white-blonde hair and said, "Let's not forget each other, aiight?"

Which it would be the last thing Nathan would do. Ever.

Nathan would stare at Tony sometimes and then look at himself and feel like Tony was made like a strong oak tree and Nathan was made of a sheet of paper, colors and all. Tony's schematics said that he was a warrior in a way that makes others jealous, that makes people scared. Tony was Nathan's bodyguard, end of story.

How did it get to this point, when Tony said of the blue that if necessary he would lay down his life for Nathan? There was no defining moment through their years, there was nothing so scary that they went through together that Tony decided he had to stick up for Nathan. The closest they got to scary was a run-in with the cops for speeding. That's it. Though they were going ninety with Tony driving, and some would define that as scary.

But somewhere along the way they reached a level of trust in which if they never said a word they would understand exactly what the other meant. It was so very hard to explain, so after a while they stopped trying. It was nicer that way.

One night, Nathan had a dream. Nathan's dreams were well known to all of his friends, Tony included. He had been known to have premonitions of a sort, because sometimes what he dreamt would come true a couple of days later. It was usually metaphorical, but it was cool, and he'd mess with them, saying he could see the future. Only Tony believed him.

Getting back to shit that matters, the dream that Nathan had was about a plane. Now, Nathan hates flying, and so from the get-go he knew he was in for a long night. He was next to Tony, and he had the window seat. He was staring at the ground when the seatbelt light flashed and klaxons that planes don't usually have started blaring. It was a quick impact, when they finally hit the ground. Nathan stood up unscathed, but when he looked around there was no one. There were no bodies, there was only smoldering wreckage. Out of the smoke came Tony, also unharmed.

Tony and Nathan stared at the debris for a long time without saying anything, but then Tony said "Take care of yourself, okay?"

Nathan nodded, though confused, because the look on Tony's face said don't argue with me. "I love you, all right. I'm not gonna get to say this to you again."

"You never did in the first place."

"Shut up." They're not mad. They're messin, like they always do. Nathan woke up in a sweaty heap, he's never dreamed about death before, and never especially about the death of a loved one.

Except, he had the strangest dream the night before his parents died.

Five minutes after he woke up, Tony's little sister Janiyah called him to say that Tony's flight on the way back from Hawai'i had crashed. There were no survivors, and about three pieces of the plane left over. Nathan's breath caught in his throat, and he vomited twice WHILE on the phone. That's how cool Jay is - she sat through the whole thing.

It's hard to have a funeral with no body, but they had a coffin anyways. Nathan was one of the pall bearers, though it killed him, though he had to pretend he wasn't gonna cry, because he wants to pretend like he's Tony, not crying ever. He made it forty-eight hours without shedding a tear and then he finally broke down, sitting on the hill in the backyard. The sun was setting beyond the limited horizon of the street parallel to theirs, and he saw two kids riding their bikes. That was it for him, because all he could think of was Tony not being there for the rest of eternity.

It's been five years, and every day is as difficult as the last one for Nathan.

When they were reading Dante's Inferno in English back in high school, before he dropped out, his English teacher told him that the thing about Hell is that the pain never lessens, you never get used to it. Nathan had understood that concept then, but he fully comprehends it now. He wakes up not to Tony's text saying "Haul your ass out of bed right now," but to a bland alarm that becomes increasingly annoying every time he hears it. He is tired, he is so tired.

Nathan's a know-nothing when it comes to the history of New Jersey, except that he does know that the first game of baseball was played in Hoboken. Oh, and he remembers learning about Ben Franklin's son being governor at some point or another. Nevertheless, when it comes to such things as ghosties or haunted places or the Jersey Devil, Nathan is clueless. He once took a trip to Savannah with his dad and brother and mother, and the whole time there the big thing was the haunted houses and apparitions in cemeteries and dead people. The entire city had an obsession with dead people.

Anyways, that's the only definite knowledge he has of any otherworldly spirits anywhere (because he DID see a ghost; don't listen to anyone else). But he doesn't know if Sandy Hook or anywhere down the shore for that matter has resident ghosts, however he always figured that if Tony was gonna haunt any place, it'd be here.

Thusly, it doesn't shock him to look over to his right and see the Natty Dread himself, the man of the hour. Nathan doesn't even try to convince himself that this could be the first poltergeist of the Jersey Shore, that Tony died a long time ago and Nathan, this isn't good for you, you can't keep pretending like this.

The thing that matters to Nathan is that he's got some more time with his brother, even it it's a figment of his imagination. And he can't make himself think that there's anything wrong with that.

Tony reaches over and touches the necklace that Nathan bought about two years ago. "This is nice."

"Yeah, I saw it and it seemed like the right thing to do." It looks beachy enough, with its shells and little beads. The name Tony is printed on one of them.

"Well, the thought was good. But you need to move on, buddy. I'm not coming back."

"You're here now."

Tony has no response for this. Nathan wonders if he is in the presence of an angel. He's always liked the idea of angels, but he's never seen one. Tony was an angel in spirit. Is it possible that he was an angel from Jah in reality?

"I just came by to check on you. Y'know, see how you're doing." Tony's deep voice is cracking. Can angels cry?

"I'm fine."

"Right." A pause, because Tony was always a fan of listening to the water, and this is no exception. "I miss you, haole."

"I miss you too, ragamuffin."

Tony laughs. "The last person to call me that was my mom." Tony's mom died a long, long time ago. She loved her Antonio so much, but he always seemed to be getting into some kind of mischief. Thus he was dubbed ragamuffin, in a loving sort of way. Like "haole" was reserved for Tony, "ragamuffin" was reserved for Nathan. "You know I'm not the best with words..."

"You're kidding."

The backhand Tony deals him feels real enough. "Shut up, haole. I...I want to let you know, I've seen a few things...What I mean to say is...you're gonna be all right."

Nathan doesn't care anymore.

"I'm watching over you. All the time, every day. Let's just say that even though I'm not your bodyguard anymore, I'm your guardian angel, which is like three steps above bodyguard."

Nathan can't bring himself to look at Tony, because he really just wants to cry, really really hard, but it always seemed like a shame to cry in front of the greatest man Nathan ever knew. Greater than his father, certainly greater than his brother. Great enough to be a believable angel of Jah. "Tony..."

"Say no more. Nathan, you're gonna be fine."

When Nathan looks up, Tony is gone.

Nathan is still on the beach three hours later, trying to figure out why he didn't tell Tony he loved him better than any brother could love another. Maybe Tony knew. People have a way of knowing when you care about them, really care about them. He's still a little disappointed in himself. They've always sucked at goodbyes, but this was Nathan's chance to actually tell Tony all the things he meant to say. It just so happened that Tony didn't stick around to hear them. His shot clock ran out, so to speak. That was another thing that connected them. Sports was their livelihood, even though they hated each other's teams with a vibrant passion.

Stop. Stop looking at everything and thinking of Tony. You've had enough recovery time.

But is that true? Do people have time limits on recovery? Is their some rule that says five years postmortem you can't still be sad about your friend dying?

And why is it bad to see Tony in absolutely everything? Is it bad to have the person who taught you everything there was to being a man in the back of your mind?

"You're gonna be fine."

That was all the confirmation Nathan needed, figment of his imagination, ghost or angel.

"I'm gonna be fine." For the first time ever, in all his life, Nathan means what he says.

"I'm gonna be fine."