Brian Bentley

I could talk forever about Brian. I remember everything the two of us went through together. The good, the bad, and everything in between — I remember it all. I first met Brian when I was 14, about to turn 15. Straight from San Diego, gangster as can be. He was brand new to Murrieta and my family had already been there for about a year. He was enrolled to go to the same high school as my brother, so they became friends right away. I was a year younger than Brian, so I was enrolled to go to the “new” high school. Even still, with him being friends with my brother and us being neighbors, Brian and I were bound to become friends ourselves. Never would I have imagined that this spiky-haired, dressed head-to-toe in red, gangster of a boy would end up becoming my best friend throughout my teenage years. We were as inseparable as teenagers could be. We spent practically every single day we could together, despite having gone to different schools. If I wasn’t at his house, he was at mine. Or the two of us would be together at one of our other friend’s house. Being friends with him was just so easy, and he and I got really close, really fast. I remember Brian and his girlfriend at the time tried desperately, and unsuccessfully, to pair me up with one of our close friends. I remember he would always raid my kitchen, then eat all my ice cream and popsicles. I remember he would eat steak with ketchup. I remember when I gave him my phone number for the first time. Brian called and said to me, “I just wanted to call to say what’s up and ‘cause I never called this number before.” He would always call me at random times after that, usually really early in the morning, just to say hi. I remember hanging out at The Promenade one night, in front of the theaters, and Brian telling me to look up at the stars with him just to see what people would say/do. I remember the day we super-glued our thumbs together. We were at my house, hanging out after school. I’m not sure what prompted him to want to do this, but we did. For some unknown reason, Brian thought it was hilarious. I remember standing in my bathroom with our hands under water, trying to soak the glue off. I don’t know why, but he got real quiet. I watched him for a little while, and noticed he was holding my hand in both of his. And I remember October 8, 2003 — just a few months after we had met first met, he found out I had a new boyfriend. That new bf and I had already been together for about a week at that point. Brian told me later on that he was so distraught about it, that it was all he could think about as soon as he heard. He ended up skipping school that day, to come to my school. I remember coming out for break and seeing him sitting at our group’s “Asian Table.” I ran up to hug him and asked him what he was doing there. He had such a sad look on his face. He leaned in close to my ear and in the softest voice he said, “I want to be with you.” Less than a week later, 1014, he made it happen. Brian taught me what it felt like to truly be in love. I fell hard for him, almost instantly. He was always so open with me about what was on his mind, never afraid to show his emotions. And he always wanted to know what I was feeling, encouraging me to be completely open with him, whether it hurt him or not. We experienced a lot of firsts, and were a part of many mini milestones together. He came to my homecoming and I went to his prom. I went to his graduation, both high school and Marine Corps, and he came to my shows. Brian was always my biggest supporter when it came to my dancing. He came to my recitals and every show that he was allowed to attend, including the two biggest ones at the Del Mar Fair and Disneyland. He even came to my rehearsals, sometimes bringing one of our friends because that friend wanted to flirt with one of my dance sisters. It pains me that I never got the chance to tell him I had just recently gotten back into dancing. I never realized how much I wanted to hear him say that he was proud of me for finding my way back to something I love. Brian always knew he was going to join the military. We spoke about it a few times, but that still wasn’t enough to prepare me for when it actually happened. It was difficult for the both of us, though more so for him for obvious reasons, as the longest we had ever been apart was no more than just a few days at a time. But when Brian wanted to do something, he made sure it got done. I took my nephew, who was only a few months old at the time, to Family Day with Brian’s parents. Brian went around telling everybody that my nephew was his kid. My nephew, being full Asian , didn’t look a thing like Brian, or even me, so I got a lot of funny looks. Brian, of course, thought it was hilarious. Uncle Robert painted Brian’s gray room the official colors of the Marine Corps, scarlet and gold, while Brian was away at boot camp. I was so sure Brian would be mad about it, as he had a lot of anger as a teen, but he actually loved it. He said it showed how proud his dad was of him, and that made Brian so happy.