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Show Pony was really, really good at a lot of things. They could shoot the wing off of a fly from ten feet away, do shiny tricks on their skates (even on rocky ground), and tie a cherry stem into a knot with their tongue. The one thing they could not do, however, was mind their business. When they saw Cherri Cola’s foot locker sprung wide open, they really did try to ignore it. It wasn’t that they didn’t care about his privacy, it was just that Cherri raised a lot of questions but never gave answers.
They set the stack of dusty CDs down on his desk without so much as a glance into the contents of the chest, but felt their boot knock into something as they turned back around. Oops. A photograph had fallen to the ground. It would’ve been impolite to leave it there, so of course they picked it up. They caught a glimpse of it as they leaned down to drop it back onto the stack of papers and photographs, and figured the damage had already been done. Might as well look it over.
The man in the picture didn’t look anything like the Cherri that Pony knew. His hair was the same, and he was wearing the same jacket that hung in the corner of the room, but the difference was in his eyes. His eyes were bright and wide, like he was seeing something amazing yet terrifying. The Cherri they knew looked a lot more tired most of the time. Hardly anything seemed to surprise him.
The other thing that stuck out to Pony was the man’s smile. It was a wide, toothy grin, but not a happy one. It seemed angry, and almost threatening. They’d never seen a look like that on Cherri’s face before. Something about the expression put a sandy feeling in their stomach. They dropped the photograph onto the stack, and picked the next one up without even thinking.
The second photograph was blurry, probably taken by shaking hands. It was a group of five guys lined up against a concrete wall, all of them wearing football helmets with the same symbol painted on the front. It was too blurry to make out what it was other than some curves and lines, but it appeared to be identical on each one. Cherri stood as the fourth guy to the right with his gun drawn and his body facing straight at the camera. Pony didn’t recognize any of the other four that stood by him in a similar fashion. They frowned, examining the details of the picture.
They’d never been able to picture Cherri as part of any other gang than the radio group until now. He was a peaceful spirit, known better for his words than his aim. How strange it was to see him with such a wild, bloodshot look in his eyes, decked out as if he was ready to go corpse dracs by the dozen. Now desperate for more, Pony peered down into the box, looking under the pile of photographs. Behind them, the door to the shack creaked open.
“...Hey.” Cherri called softly. Pony dropped the photograph and skittered away from the chest in a panic.
“Hey! Hiya cherry pie! I was just-uh, I dropped off your CDs and I accidentally knocked down a-”
“I know.” Cherri answered before Pony could finish, closing the door behind him. His voice was calm and steady, but he had a frown on his face. “...I, uh, I meant to lock that up before I left. Justa bunch of old junk in there anyway… Photographs ‘n stuff.”
Pony paused, unsure of what to say. Part of them just wanted to ask all the questions they could think of, because things couldn’t get any more awkward anyway. They looked down and bit their lip, crossing their arms behind their back.
“Yeah… Sorry about that.”
“No, it’s… ‘s alright. Don’t worry about it.”
The two stood there looking down in awkward silence for another moment, both holding their breath as they tried to figure out what to say. Pony was the first to break the silence.
“So you had a gang before you met doc?”
“Sorta.” Cherri nodded. “I knew him back then, just not the way I do now.”
“Why’d you leave?” Pony frowned, looking up. Now that Cherri was starting to talk, Pony couldn’t help but pry.
“Guess I grew up before they did.” He shook his head. “I dunno if that’s the best way to put it, but… After awhile we all changed ‘n went our separate ways. Moved on to better things.”
“Right. That makes sense. But why don’t you ever talk ‘bout em?”
“It just never seemed important.”
“But, like, really. Why?”
Cherri sighed softly, diverting his eyes back to the floor. There was no point in trying to hide anything from Pony, who could find just about anything once they were interested enough. He knew they wouldn’t think less of him, but that didn’t make it any easier to say these things out loud. He took a deep breath.
“We were a firing squad. I got more dog tags in that chest than I’d like to admit, honestly. That just… ain’t my way of life anymore.” He looked to Pony’s face for a sign of disappointment, but found no such thing.
“I like to think I’m a different person now, but I can’t just ignore the shit I’ve done. There were people under those masks, and families behind those people.” He closed his eyes, bringing his hand to his forehead. “They deserve to be remembered.”
All the names on the waves, and the masks carried down to the mailbox on Sundays, now made sense. An ongoing memoriam.
“I know I can’t fix what I’ve done, but that won’t stop me from trying.”