As I recall, there were only a few moments at school that made O. outwardly prideful — his father coming to visit, his brother smiling,
his sisters calling from afar. He never could stay too far from his family. Before I ask, "How's the fam, O?" J. chimes in. "The only thing missing on this porch is a captain's chair."
"Make that three captain's chairs," I add. We chuckle together. The air around us settles for the first time since we lit up. "Remember working for physical plant during the school year? We used to share cigarettes just like these on our way back from work."
"Well, there's nothing like being together again," J. quips. We all take a long drag from our smokes and internalize the moment. We know it'll be our last smoke with each other as free men.
"So, are you ready for this?" I ask. O. looks at us and exhales. Our eyes turn toward the valley. We do not speak. The thick cloud of three cigarettes temporarily obscures the view. I shut my eyes and flick my ash on the ground. "Today is a good day."
"Do you remember that fishing trip up in Canastota with the three of us? That weekend consisted of nothing but an ice storm, a $25 hotel room, a $30 handle of booze, and a deck of cards. We didn't even cast one single line. But I'd have to say, that was probably the best fishing trip I've ever been on." I laugh, "That was the only fishing trip I've ever been on."
By now J. is pretty excited. "And the night before graduation where we stayed up all night and slept an hour in the back of the truck? We got up an hour before commencement and made it back in the nick of time, coffees in hand." "Yeah, and celebratory cigarettes," I'm reminded as O. takes a drag. I put mine out and stand up in front of the couch. "Say O., why did you bother to pick me up in the morning all those days in Wally J? I had so little to offer you. How did I know that I could make a friend a saint?" O. laughs and shakes his head. "I needed the ride, the coffee, the discipline to get my ass outta bed and do my homework. What did you need from me?" After a long pause, I say what's really on my mind.
"You know I regret not coming, don't you? I was working the next day ... and already in the car going to the Giants game with my dad that Sunday. I get the call that your going-away party is that night. I mean, I knew you were going, but I didn't know when." He smiles and exhales. "We all knew you were tough enough to go. But it couldn't have been easy to leave like that. Maybe I could've made it that much easier." I turn away from the couch. J. cuts in, "Sit down and relax." He tugs at my sleeve. "He didn't need anything. Back then or in college. You're friends. You give him plenty."
I sit down and motion for another butt. A short slug of whiskey and a drag and I'm wondering what I mean. In reality, we didn't get to know him that well. Sure, we understood him, connected with him on what we felt was a profound level. Yet we didn't really know him. Now, he's going to be sharing all his deepest, darkest, most personal secrets with someone we won't get to know for a long time. Is that robbery?
J. sees my distress and pops in, "You remember O. driving around campus with the biggest F350 you ever seen? That truck toted his fishing rods, shotguns and camping gear. He used to drive around in that thing so much you thought he was working for campus safety! Dude, he and his girl drove off-campus to hotels on weekends just to get cable TV." We laugh together again and raise our glasses in unison.
"You're blue-collar, man," I finally say in O.'s direction. "Even after freshman year, you kept in touch with that janitor over in North. Smoked butts and shot the shit with the man before and after class. Just a regular Joe keeping up with old acquaintances."
