by Gene Cowan
The day began with a cold drizzle. Not a real steady rain, but enough to make you feel completely wet to the skin. It seemed to bring a silence, a depression to those who had to get up to catch the train to work. The rain and grey skies only served to deepen my own depression.
My best friend had just left for a four-year stint in the Army. I couldn't come to terms with it- we had been like brothers. He had problems, I had problems, and maybe he needed something that the Army could offer. I couldn't imagine what that could be. All I knew was that he was the first true friend I had ever had, and he was leaving. Maybe this life isn't worth it, I thought. People pretend to be my friends then take me for a ride, take advantage of me. Now, on the other side of the coin, people who are my friends tend to get as far away from me as possible. Even my cat ran away from me.
I don't know, perhaps it is the best thing he could do. I wish I could be certain. I wish I could be as excited about it as he is. I wish I didn't get a sick feeling in my stomach every time I think about it, or every time someone mentions anything remotely connected with Nick or the military.
What was my life going to be like without him around? I had grown used to his advice and prodding, would I be able to continue the same life when he's gone? Or will I get fat again and lead a life shut off from the rest of the world? I credit Nick for changing my life. Whether it's true or not, he gets the credit. If he hadn't been my friend I'd still be living in someone's basement and following a routine of work and television and sleep and then again. Already, I'm slipping back into that routine, and it feels terrible. I feel listless, depressed, and thoroughly unhappy. Until the weekend, if Nick can get five minutes off of work to go drinking. Even when we end up doing nothing, I have a good time, as much as I hate to admit it. We'll ride around, then I'll drive him home. And we'll talk on the way. That car has been the setting of some of the most interesting and enlightening conversations in the history of this county.
I think what I'll miss most is having someone to talk to. He's the most intelligent person I know, and it's not like talking to anyone else. He constantly amazes me with his intelligence. Actually, he makes me feel rather stupid. I never realized that you could be smart and have a good time at the same time.
We can talk about anything, from deep, inner emotional problems to why the Orioles are having such a bad season. From Hemingway's philosophy to why Shakey's thin crust pizza is better than Pizza Hut's. I've never met anyone else who can hold my attention on any subject better. And I'm going to miss that intellectual stimulation. Sure, I can write, and if he has time, he can write, but somehow, it's not the same. If one has to write it down, one has to think about it, and it just doesn't seem the same as that spontaneous conversation.
And those conversations simply prove to me that I can be smart and still be normal- I had always thought that Nick was “normal”, although he denies it. By normal, I mean someone can excel at sports, or go out with girls or do other non-nerdy things. One of my favorite things that Nick taught me to do is lift weights. Of course, I don't mean that the actual act of lifting them and feeling great pain is my favorite thing, but it's the result I like. People I used to know and hate in school, who beat me up twice a day, are astounded that a little fat nerd like me could be lifting weights everyday, or riding a bicycle to the train station. And suddenly, I'm almost accepted. A girl actually asked for my phone number! Granted, she never did call me, but it's a start. Now, I have to try to carry this through without Nick's help. It's up to me to finish it, and not to disappoint my archetypical hero. But I have a sinking feeling that I won't be able to do it.
Two months is a long time when you're as screwed up as I am. But gradually, you learn to live with it. A letter a day is written, and it takes the place of conversation. The conversation simply becomes one-sided.
But enventually you get used to it. A letter a day is a routine, like it used to be talking on the phone.
Then the two months is over. Nick came home for Christmas. And it was strange.
I figured that it would be like a great load off my back, I'd have a great time while he was around. Instead, I was constantly thinking about the day, two weeks away, when he'd be leaving again, and not back for a much longer period of time.
And there was the same excitement about the Army. This time, it had rubbed off on me. Could I possibly make it in the Army? Should I even consider it? Do I really need that challenge? Would it help me somehow? At this point, I thought, anything will help. I need a challenge. And I don't mean a really complicated problem at work to solve, I mean an all over physical and mental challenge that could change my entire outlook, build some self-confidence.
Nick is gone again, after drinking and pizza binges, and I don't feel nearly as bad as I had previously. I'm used to it. The letters are continuing. I'm looking into the National Guard. I'm going on with life, such as it is. And I'm missing Nick.