Overdub

One day near the beginning of second grade, I was walking around the playground when I noticed Roberto Spada sitting by himself in the corner of the sandbox.  He was eating sand.  As I was no slouch when it came to sand-eating, I asked if I could join.  Within a month we were thick as thieves.  His parents took me to Beauty in the Beast; my parents took him to Discovery Zone (child version of Dave & Busters).  He was my first best friend.

A few years later, I met Alexander Yankus.  I think I bit him after class one day.  What.  You never bit someone?  Well aren’t you just the sweetest apple in the orchard.  Anyway, Yankus and I used to play baseball until past dark.  One night, I broke a window with a pop-fly.  At the time I was terrified Mrs. Yankus was going to rip my “yankus” off, but looking back it’s probably my only unquestionably American memory from growing up and I cherish the experience.  All that’s missing is a blind old man and his junkyard dog.

In high school, I ran cross country every day with Billy Slattery.  In College, I played in seventeen different bands with Matt Congdon.  Just after graduating, I spent more time on the phone with Kyle Ferguson than I did with my girlfriend.

With all of them, I had a partner.  An accomplice.  A guy I could count on to roll shotgun in my life-mobile.  There was one, though, that bowed out.  He was having a hard time with the same stuff we all go through – that period of your life when you realize no, you’re not going to be an astronaut – and he checked out from all meaningful human contact.

For years, I kept calling him despite his lack of response.  When his cell-phone was disconnected, I patiently played a one-sided game of phone tag via his parents: me leaving my name and number, them writing it down and he ignoring us all.  My weekly efforts dissolved into monthly attempts, yearly Hail Mary’s and then nothing.

Until last Wednesday.

There was absolutely no reason to call him.  In fact, it had been so long since I dialed his parents’ house that his dad didn’t know who I was.  But like a widower remembering to leave flowers at a grave, I simply gave my name & number and asked that he call me back.

And he did.

Almost five years without hearing his voice and he called me.  It was early Saturday morning and I was a little hung-over and very much still in bed.  His name was there on my phone but like sound in a storm, there was a distinct delay before I registered what I was seeing.

“Hello?” I asked.
“Hey, Jake?”
“Hi...”

I asked if he was free for coffee or lunch or something and he was and we made a plan for Sunday and I tried not to think about it all day Saturday and I boarded the subway for Manhattan and walked to his office and stepped onto the elevator and opened the door and there he was.  You don’t know the fullness of a hug until you’ve wrapped your entire being around someone.

We walked in the Village and the west-side highway for hours talking and catching up.  I always wanted to write with him and a lot of the day was spent trying to craft my routine for an upcoming stand-up gig.  I haven’t yet enjoyed the process of writing jokes until walking and working with him.  I was laughing my ass off!  Can he be my writing partner?  Is it that easy?

A lot of the day felt like reading a journal you wrote ten years ago, hearing the same language from the past sound fresh in the present.  Not a drop of me was upset about his abrupt disappearance.  In fact, my only frustration was that he missed my over-weight, cigarette-smoking, self-loathing phase.  To him, I look exactly as I did five years ago.  He looked the same, too, only better.  Relaxed.  Present.

In a weird coincidence, we ate at the same sushi place that we did the last time we were together.  Is this the universe letting us pick up where we left off?  Like a recording artist circling back to an entry and proceeding forward in an entirely new direction.  What if we erase five years apart and write five years together?  I’m trying not to get too attached.  As much as I can, I suppose.  I have other best friends now.  Guys who’ve been around for the last five years.  Sunday was probably closure on an old relationship instead of a rekindling.  But between you and me, I really hope I get to see my best friend again.