“You and I have memories, longer than the road that stretches out ahead”
Two of Us - The Beatles
Randy was someone who was bigger than others in the fourth grade. This was the result of having to repeat the grade twice before. And he—like anyone else in his position—didn’t like to be reminded of it. Paul—one of the many who was much smaller than Randy—found out the hard way. The very hard way.
The setting was near the bicycle racks after school. Paul found himself pinned to the ground by an angry Randy who was upset that Paul had embarrassed him in class. How? Paul simply corrected Randy, in front of the teacher and the class, over a math problem. Randy was much bigger than Paul but that tends to happen when you’ve repeated the grade twice and you’re currently working on your third attempt. What was lost on Paul wasn’t how Randy didn’t know the answer to the question. It was how Randy, on his third attempt to pass the fourth grade, didn’t know the answer to the same question he’d been asked for the third time by the same teacher who had been using all her powers to get him to pass…on their third attempt together.
Randy waited until the end of the school day, when he knew Paul would be making his way to the bicycle rack. He spotted Paul amongst the crowd of kids making their way home. Since he was bigger and stronger (again, he was two years older), grabbing Paul by the back of his shirt and dragging him to the ground was effortless. It didn’t take long for kids to see what was happening and run over to be spectators to a fight.
Randy was about to smash his fist into Paul’s face when John cut in. John wasn’t a fighter. He was a talker. He talked his way into and out of many things and he had a gift for getting people to think and do what he wanted. It was a fine line between being seen as a leader and a dictator. In this instance, John was a savior. He convinced Randy not to beat the life out of Paul by deploying his own personal charm, which he had in abundance. Simply, he asked the very question that Paul was thinking, but with good-natured humor and a smile.
“Randy, why didn’t you know the answer when you had Mrs. Joseph two times and she asks the same damn question every year?” John asked inquisitively but with traces of sarcasm and condescension.
The crowd gathered more closely around them, their excitement over seeing someone get beaten up beginning to dissipate. Randy looked at John, right fist in the air, paused and set to strike.
“Damn. You know she was Miss Blanton when you first had her and she didn’t have kids. Now she’s Mrs. Joseph with a one year old kid–”
Randy slowly rose off of Paul as if he knew he would have to redirect his anger towards John, who he did have a fondness for.
“--that her ass hasn’t recovered from.” John finished.
Some of the kids giggled.
“It’s not the same problem!” Randy growled, his hand still pushing Paul down and his other hand a fist still cocked. “She changes it!”
John laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. Last year it was multiplying apples and before it was multiplying oranges. I can see how it can throw you off.”
Silence rushed over the throngs of elementary children. The crowd that gathered didn’t know what to do or even say. It wasn’t until Randy began to laugh, which began as a low giggle and grew to a bellyaching howl. All the kids began to laugh, the uneasiness melting away. The only one not laughing was Paul, who was still obediently on the ground with a look of disbelief mixed with a welcome relief.
Randy slowly rose off of Paul and picked him up by his shirt. There was a collective sigh of relief from the crowd, which was now beginning to disperse. Randy brushed the dirt off of Paul and then gave a good-natured slap on the back to indicate that all was good between them. The third year fourth grader walked off leaving Paul still dumbfounded by how quickly everything escalated and then quickly dissipated. He looked over at John who, hands in pockets and a wide grin on his face, gave Paul a wink.
“You owe me big time,” he said to Paul. “And I’m gonna cash in sometime!”
From that point on, John and Paul became close friends. They remained so through high school until around college. As with everyone, they went their separate ways—Paul to a school in the northeast and John to a school in the Pacific Northwest but not before he had backpacked through Europe and traveled throughout Canada and Central America. At first they kept in touch. Eventually, the daily check-ins went to weekly then to monthly then to certain holidays then to, ultimately, not really at all. To be accurate, they’d touch base for perhaps an hour once a year and that was typically around Christmas. Oddly, never birthdays. It wasn’t until their ten year high school reunion was around the corner that John really urged Paul to reconnect. And they did. They met in New York and toured the city for a couple days. It was a fun 48 hours and they rekindled a lot of what made them click—a love of jokes, music, and art (though art was more John than Paul).
After much good-natured pestering, Paul relented and said he’d swing by the reunion. It was on the way to a meeting so he could make time. And make time he did. In hindsight, Paul was glad he stopped by but angry he didn’t stay longer. It would be the last time he’d see John.
At this moment Paul sat in a rental car that, despite the stickers prohibiting smoking in the vehicle, smelled like smoke. It wasn’t at all faint. It was as if someone had just lit an entire pack of Marlboros in the car before Paul took it from the rental place. He coughed a bit hoping it was nothing at all.
Paul looked at the list in his hands. There wasn’t a deadline or due date. There were numbers for each item but he didn’t know if this was supposed to be done in any specific order or if these were put in any order of importance. He went simply in order that each was listed on the paper. This was John’s handiwork.
Paul stepped out of the rental, the leaves, twigs, and other dried material crunching beneath his step. The air smelled pure. It was nearing late afternoon. South Carolina was a ten hour drive from South Florida, mostly because Paul wanted to stop and stretch his legs for at least thirty minutes. But he wasn’t late. He always knew he would arrive around this time. To be certain someone was home, he called ahead.
The property was in as rural an area as one could imagine. For Paul, who was used to the concrete jungle of a big city and the liveliness of the suburbs, this was unfamiliar territory. He felt like an explorer in an undiscovered land. Yet there was something serene in the sunlight piercing through the bushes and trees, the crisp smell of unadulterated air, and the sound of rustling from animals timid enough to flee and fierce enough to fight. If you weren’t paying too close attention, you’d miss the faint sound of people talking and the reflection from the windows of neighboring homes. There was peace here.
Paul stood on the porch of the small house and gathered a strong breath of air in his lungs for courage. He would need it. Closing his eyes to center himself on the task at hand, he rang the doorbell. While waiting for a response, he took in the front porch of the home. Though the house looked abandoned, there was subtle evidence that not too long ago it was kept in pristine condition by a caring and meticulous owner. A good coat of paint, sweeping, and organizing could restore it to its former glory.
Suddenly, the door swung open and a man, with a bald head and graying stubble on his chubby face, answered. He and Paul locked eyes for several seconds waiting for the other to make the first move.
“Jesus, you look the same,” the man, in a faded black shirt that barely fit his round physique, said dryly.
“You too, Randy,” Paul countered. Randy huffed as if to say, “Bullshit”.
Randy motioned Paul to enter the house. The moment he did, he was greeted with a wall of stale, sickly air. It was quite the contrast with the air outside the house that was cool and refreshing. Inside the home it was noticeably warm. This made the smell even more difficult to take. Paul held his breath for a few seconds before taking in some tiny breaths to get acclimated. It wasn’t horrible, but it was certainly strong enough that it couldn’t be ignored. He couldn’t pinpoint what it exactly was but he was certain vomit was one of the scents.
Randy shuffled over to a beaten old couch and plopped down. The couch let out a sound that seemed to indicate that it strained under the weight of its occupant. He motioned for Paul to take a seat. Randy was about 45 but he looked to be about 75. He still had a very large build that (if you knew him like Paul did) gave an indication that he used to be the picture of peak physical health. That wasn’t Randy any longer.
Paul sat in what was actually an old folding lawn chair. He looked at Randy who had his arms folded over his large belly. There was an awkward silence and Paul had no idea what to do. It must’ve shown on his face as Randy gave a sigh.
“So, it’s been—what?—seventeen years?” Randy asked through labored breath.
Paul gave it some thought. Randy was right. It was the high school reunion. Paul flew in the day of and was a couple hours late. He then left early. He was there long enough to at least take one lap around the room and say hello to as many people he could recognize. Randy was one of those people fortunate enough to get 30 seconds of a, “hello”, “you look great!”, and “good-bye”.
“It’s been a long time,” was all that Paul could muster.
Randy gave a low grunt signaling her was in agreement. Or, it was another way for him to communicate the ridiculousness of what Paul said.
“He’s gone, isn’t he,” Randy said plainly, cutting to the issue of why a guy he hadn’t seen in almost two decades was now in his living room.
Paul nodded slowly.
Randy lowered his eyes and slowly nodded, mumbling something under his breath.
“Good man. I’ll miss him. He came to see me at least once a month or so. I saw him maybe three months ago. Then he stopped and all we did was text,” Randy said, again, through labored breath.
“He stopped seeing you?” Paul asked innocently.
Randy was quiet and seemed to look off into the distance. His mind was elsewhere.
“How did you know?” The question, which seemed to pull Randy back, made him belch a grunt of a laugh.
“You talk to someone enough and you get to know them,” Randy explained. “You tend to get into a lot of deep—very deep—conversations when there’s dark things to talk about.”
“Dark things…” Paul’s voice and mind trailed off, trying to understand what he meant.
Randy nodded slowly until Paul accepted it.
“He was here for me,” Randy continued, clearing his throat.
“John was that guy,” Paul added. He winced as he listened to his own weak attempts at contributing to the conversation.
“He was the only one who knew,” Randy continued. Paul gave him a confused look, to which Randy nodded his head, which was either in disgust or disappointment. “I’m dying, Paul.”
For the first time since he arrived, Paul noticed that the dining room table was littered with prescription bottles, medical supplies, and machines whose purpose he had no clue of.
“Cancer’s in the lungs, which means I don’t have much longer.”
The weight of Randy's words fell onto Paul’s shoulders.
“I guess you came at the right time,” Randy said through a labored chuckle. Paul slowly nodded.
“But I’m ready,” Randy continued, clearing his throat and shaking off the enormity of the situation. “John helped me get organized for when I go. Leaving this house and land to my nephew since he’s the only family I talk to. Whatever I got in the bank—and it’s not anything to brag about—is going to a local charity. I picked out a no kill dog shelter a county over. All my dogs came from there. They’re great people and deserve it. I figure my money is enough to buy some food.”
Paul squirmed in the lawn chair. It wasn’t because he was physically uncomfortable, which he was. It was more that he felt a sense of shame. Knowing Randy since elementary school Paul certainly should’ve known about his condition. But he didn’t. He had turned away from the life of old friends and fond memories.
Randy noticed the gears turning in Paul’s head and interpreted the pained look on his face.
“Hey, don’t worry. I’m not heartbroken at all you never visited, wrote, or called,” he said to Paul with a crooked smile.
Despite the dig, what Randy said was true. From fifth grade on to high school they had many classes together and actually hung out quite a bit. But it was the fifth grade (John had a different teacher) when they became close. It was ironic that it happened about a year after Randy finally passed fourth grade. The two could actually laugh about the rumble by the bicycle racks.
“Ah don’t be such a wimp,” Randy smiled, again clearing his throat.
The insult was meant to be endearing. It helped a little.
“So what now?” Paul asked Randy. It was as much a question of what he was to do at this point in the conversation as what Randy was to do with the terminal diagnosis. Randy addressed the latter.
“I don’t know. Got no family—well, my nephew,” Randy sighed and rolled his eyes. “Since he doesn’t get along with his dad—and my brother can be a dick—he kind of stuck to me. We got to be pretty close. He moved away last year for some job in the islands. Must be nice. Comes back every now and then.”
“Does he know?” Paul felt compelled to ask.
“Nah. I don’t need him worrying. Kid finally has his life in order, has a future—can’t ruin it by telling him his uncle has terminal cancer.”
Randy’s eyes trailed off, no doubt envisioning his nephew somewhere on a beach “working” under a tropical sun. As if on cue, he snapped out of his momentary daydream.
“So I ride out my time,” Randy said without a hint of emotion.
The finality hit Paul in the gut. He hadn’t experienced a death until John’s. And that was sudden and unexpected. Randy’s situation was a slow march to the end. Death could come in three weeks or three months, but regardless it was certainly on its way. This was true for everyone, but some have the benefit of longer timelines than others.
“Do you mean what now as in what do I do now? Or what now as in what do we do now at this moment?” Randy, suddenly struck, asked for clarification. It was a proper question.
Paul didn’t think of the former but the latter. He thought about the question–so what do two old friends who hadn’t seen each other in a long time and one drops a bombshell that he’s dying actually do? It was pretty selfish. Paul tried to think of a better way to explain. But all he could do was stumble through his words.
“You wanna know what we do now? At this moment right now,” Randy bailed him out. Paul slowly nodded, embarrassed. “I don’t know. John’s gone. That’s all that’s in my head right now.”
That was painfully true.
“The last time we spoke, we talked about you,” Randy revealed. He took a momentary pause before letting out a hearty laugh that wasn’t nestled within a grunt.
“You know when I had you on the ground?” Randy asked, his face suddenly looking reflective and more flush with life than pale and sickly. Of course. How could Paul not remember. “I wasn’t pissed at you. I was probably—not probably, definitely—I was embarrassed. I just happened to take it out on you. Like, who the hell fails a grade twice? The first time, yeah. The second time—ok as a kid it’s embarrassing. But when you’re looking at failing a third time?”
Paul nodded in agreement but he did so with an expression on his face to communicate that he sympathized with Randy. For a few seconds Paul thought about how it must have felt for everyone to know you had fallen short two times before and now there was a chance of failing a third. He imagined the stress and shame Randy must have felt. Kids could be brutal. And their particular class was no exception. He imagined what Randy’s parents must have thought. Everyone knew Randy’s dad was an Academy Award-winning asshole. The man surely didn’t make it easy on his son. In fact, everyone was sure of it. A failed, miserable human being who hopped from one menial job to the next, he took pleasure in demeaning his son just to distract from his own personal failings. How Randy didn’t fall into the same trappings as his old man was a miracle. But it didn’t mean there weren’t moments of release after bottling up his rage. The moment in particular was when he let loose on a classmate, pinning him to the ground and threatening to unleash his frustrations.
Paul didn’t know how he would’ve personally handled Randy’s situation. He was a product of a stable, normal, and seemingly boring home life. If things had been different, he would be in Randy’s shoes.
“Some years ago I was dating this girl and I told her about it and she told me that no matter how bad I did, they weren’t gonna fail me a third time!”
“So after all that—they would’ve passed you anyway?” Paul asked.
Randy nodded.
Paul smiled. Then they both laughed. It was a wonderful moment that came at the right time. Randy hadn’t had a reason to laugh like that in years.
“We wouldn’t be here right now if it wasn’t for that,” Randy laughed. It was true. They might not have any type of relationship. Randy would know he was gonna be moved on to the next grade and so wouldn’t have been upset with Paul for inadvertently embarrassing him in front of the class and causing him to pin Paul to the ground threatening to beat him. In turn, Paul would never have become friends with John. It all worked out.
Just as quickly the color returned to Randy’s face it drained away equally as quickly. He suddenly broke into a coughing fit that made Paul wince as if he could feel his friend’s pain. Randy took a small towel and placed it over his mouth. When he pulled the white towel away, splotches of red (blood) were on the portion over his mouth. Randy shrugged and began to fold the towel over and tuck it back in his pocket. Paul, in a bit of shock, rose and grabbed from a stack of towels on a nearby table. Randy waived him off.
“This happens sometimes. Damn thing comes out looking like a maxi pad.”
Randy tried to chuckle but he noticed that Paul was uncomfortable.
“Remember middle school?” Randy asked. This snapped Paul’s attention back to Randy.
For the next three hours (which Paul admits had zoomed by at the speed of light) the two shared stories of their childhood. It turns out they had spent more time together than Paul initially thought. They were on a flag football team together, Randy the quarterback and Paul the wide receiver. There was the attempt to camp at a graveyard, which ended with the groundskeeper chasing them off property. One time they shoplifted candy bars from a convenience store but got caught by a police officer who made them apologize to the owner. And there were many more. It was amazing what they were able to squeeze into a three plus hour session. Again, it amazed Paul that the memories were somehow forgotten. It wasn’t that his relationship with Randy had been eclipsed by his friendship with John. It was that for the last fifteen years or so he was consumed with a career that netted him riches and the riches came at the expense of people like Randy.
The conversation shifted to post-college. Randy started a rather successful general contracting business after several years of working for a friend of his father’s. The business—which he cheekily called The Randy Man as a play on “handy man”—was doing really well. He had a girlfriend in his early twenties who he got pregnant. Wanting to do the right thing, he married her. Eventually, the two divorced and it cost him dearly in child and spousal support until it was revealed that he wasn’t the child’s father. Despite the pain of a divorce, being cheated on, and robbed of what he thought was his son, he paid the child support dutifully. Years later the girlfriend and son would die in a horrible car accident by some drunk driver. Randy was still trying to get over that pain when the economy turned. His business suffered so badly that he ended up closing it permanently. Randy tried starting other businesses—mobile car detailing, home inspection services were a couple—but none lasted more than a month. He took a part time job at a grocery store to make a bit of money and preserve what little he had in the bank. His immediate family were, to no surprise, never there to support him. He continued working at the grocery store and eventually started to find side work as a GC. Randy was making enough to live comfortably in his simple life. He had freedom to take on as much or as little work as he wanted. The freedom even allowed him to go on his first cruise, a solo trip around the islands of the Caribbean. Randy was happy. He worked when he wanted and was able to do what he wanted. Over time he would struggle to breathe while working on some jobs and, progressively, it came while doing the most simple of tasks. He ignored it until a friend told him to see a doctor. That’s when he received the cancer diagnosis. It had spread into his lungs. He had been given three to six months. That was over a year ago.
Paul shared a bit about himself, though after hearing a recount of Randy’s life he felt embarrassed to share. After college he met a couple guys at a networking mixer and found they had a shared vision for a marketing firm. The firm had some success. And by “some success” the firm grew to generate almost $30 million a year. It was at the rise of this firm where Paul made his brief appearance at the high school reunion before leaving to tend to a client’s suddenly urgent needs. After about fifteen years they sold the company for $60 million, the three partners splitting the sale price equally into thirds. The sale happened to be around the recent recession. So where Randy lost his business and struggled, Paul was doing fine. This last part, Paul left out.
“So you didn’t marry, huh?” Randy asked, without (much to Paul’s relief) asking about his business and any of the success.
“Got serious with one but—,” Paul tried to finish, but didn’t.
A low grunt that passed for an agreement came from Randy. This triggered another coughing fit. He put the towel back over his mouth. When he withdrew it, there was more blood. Randy sighed. He shook his head in what Paul interpreted to be a reminder that although they had enjoyed some laughs and he felt good, the sight of blood on the towel brought him back to his inevitable reality. The weight of the inevitable weighed on him. Paul looked at Randy and he could feel an urge to cry. He fought it back. Randy and Paul’s eyes met for a brief second before Randy took his gaze away. He looked off, as if in a trance, beyond the walls of his house to a place far, far away.
“Were we friends, Paul?” Randy asked weakly.
“We are friends, Randy,” Paul replied, lending his friend some strength.
Randy slowly nodded and a faint smile made its way across his face. Paul felt great about his friend’s smile.
“That’s good,” Randy said very softly. “I like that.”
Paul looked over at one of the windows and noticed that the sun was setting. Hues of orange and yellow made their way into the house. The two friends looked at one another. They both knew that, although neither wanted it to end, it was time for Paul to go. Rising to his feet, he waved Randy to not get up. He would show himself out. Randy nodded slowly.
Standing at the doorway, Paul looked back at Randy. He searched for something to say.
“I’ll be back soon,” Paul mustered.
“No you won’t,” Randy said through a smile.
Paul was briefly taken aback before he very clearly understood.
“Then I’ll see you soon,” Paul replied, matching Randy’s smile.
“Yes you will,” Randy nodded and winked.
And with that Paul stepped out of the house.
Two weeks later Randy peacefully passed away in his sleep. Paul only found out after he called the dog rescue organization that Randy was so fond of. When he told them he wanted to donate in Randy’s name, that’s when the owners shared the sad news. Paul wasn’t at all sad. He was heartened. He made a significant donation in Randy’s name. With the money, the dog rescue was able to create something to house their growing rescue population. The state-of-the-art building was named The Randy House.
To be continued…