"What's the occassion?"
"It's some kid's birthday..."
"Do I know this guy?"
"No, technically I don't either. He's one of the new kids in the program. Actually, I'm not even sure its his birthday. I just want a really good excuse to throw a party."
There's a pause. I can't see her face over the phone but I know exactly what expression she's making.
"So, you coming?"
Hilariously enough, she met her current boyfriend at that party.
***
"So," I ask the blond kid who just walked in the door, "you normally go by Xenu?"He stares at me, "what? Oh! My facebook! Yeah, I like messing around with that..."
I start cracking up and hand him a drink, "Well, happy birthday stranger."
"Birthday?" he's laughing too now, "oh yeah! Today IS my birthday on facebook isn't it?" He grins and poses with the cake with his name on it for a photograph.
"You know," he says, "according to facebook, I have a birthday about every two weeks...and there are a whole slew of my 'friends' who haven't caught on yet."
"Whatever, I like having parties."
***
"Ya-pach-um"It was his first phrase, or more, that's how I can best type it an Anglesized version of it. I can gesture vaguely verbally at the myriad of hidden consonants in the actual polish baby-talked version, but I'll never be able to type it.
I'm observing.
His grandfather had found him sitting in the family's garage and asked him what he was doing. I find it a fitting summary of Pacem in general.
I'm observing.
Most people when they want to understand another person "walk a mile in their shoes," or imagine themselves as being in the other person's situation. Pacem instead has the sort of mind which permits him to observe himself from the same third person perspective he sees other people, and to understand them that way. This has many side effects, one of which is his ability to look at himself and have a good laugh from time to time, which is one of my favourite things about him.
I'm observing.
***
"Dona nobis pacem..."I distinctly remember preforming this piece in fourth grade. The harmony and simplicity mezmorized me, and still does to this day.
Let us have peace.
I remember singing at the very top of my lungs. The world is complicated, and the things which you know are beautiful are true are worth really clinging to.
***
He looked worn out, tired, and depressed. His boss was an asshole and his team's aptitude left much to be desired. Furthermore, two of the team members no more qualified than him had escaped the worst of it, and had a lot of goodies and attention from his boss's boss which would surely let them escape the looming fallout this work team would suffer. One of them wasn't being particularly nice to him either.He locked himself in his room for hours with his laptop and didn't speak to much of anybody. I would come in to tell him when dinner was ready, but realistically there wasn't a whole lot I could do.
"Ya-pach-um," I grinned and waved to him from the doorway. When all else failed, I guess act like an idiot.
"Ya-pach-um," I repeated, falling into a game of word sounds, "Ya-pach-um, pach-um, pacem, dona nobis pacem."
"What?"
"Peace, you could use some probably."
"Huh?"
"Dinner's ready."
***
"Red four on the five.""Oh man I didn't see that one."
Nerds do some fairly impressive things when deprived of internet, but the words "communal solitaire" still crack me up. I think it was one of the best things that happened to the house, because with nothing better to do we all got to really know and care for each other. Pacem and I remained close considering the distance my senior year, and we even found time to visit him on the road trip with Ginger and Giraffe. When I found we were both returning for a second year I was overjoyed.
***
"Quesadillas and bud lite," he looks down at himself, "I feel like white trash."
Pacem is wearing a wife beater and athletic shorts since the rest of his clothes are currently in the drier. The two of us are on our knees loading up gallons of milk and orange juice into the upper shelves of the refrigerator.
"I figure," he says as he hoists the 30 rack into the new space we have created, "Its all about the finer things in life anyway."
I'm on the couch later when Pacem wanders back with a box labled Xerox. It once to contained printer paper but now it carries his clean laundry. He sits down on a couch to begin folding it.
"You want...us to pick up a real laundry basket for you?"
He shrugs, "this works."
He pulls out a hilighter colored shirt with the bright pink AMP logo. Its the most horrendously beautiful shirt I have ever seen in my life, and I always make fun of him for it.
"Directing traffic soon?"
"Fuck, give me direct sunlight and I'll blind you!"
***
We've been fighting a lot recently for no real good reason. Well, I know mine. I have a terrible pressing need to escape and keep finding him in my room when I want to be alone. I guess that's one of those things roommates have been known to do. Pacem probably has his own reasons, but I wish he wouldn't vent them by helping in the efforts to circumvent me that have cropped up.
"We're heading up to the casinos that last weekend," he says.
I glare at him. We have four houses to shut down and clean and a ton of furniture to move and now he's skipping out with how many people?
"We'll clean up a ton on Sunday and Monday to make up for it. We don't really need a whole weekend to clean. I promise, we'll make up the time."
I shrug. There isn't a whole lot of point to arguing with somebody whose mind is made up that firmly. Pacem knew damn well how much work this was going to be: he, the guy I was dating at the time, and I had spent a whole weekend last time cleaning up only one house, and that one had been subjected to a lot less wear.
They came home Sunday sunburnt and tired. They slept a few hours and then drank until one threw up on the carpet we had finished cleaning. The next day was Monday. They sat on the couch, still hung over, and announced they were going to the beach. I was carrying a load of food and supplies from Delta to Alpha when Pacem came up to me to say goodbye since they were getting on the plane right from the beach. He wanted a hug. His eyes were dead.
"You're going?"
"Yeah."
"You said you'd help..."
"Well the car's leaving now."
"We'll see you again soon Pika," Tiffany interjected.
"Yeah, whatever," I respond.
"Aww," she continues, "don't be sad, we probably will..."
The truth was that right then I never wanted to see any of them again in my life. Turning back to Pacem I hugged him so I wouldn't be that asshole who leaves somebody with outstretched arms hanging, "You promised," I said.
"Promised what?"
I'm pretty proud of not flat-out decking him right there. It was just the last straw after a whole summer of passive aggressive bullshit from somebody who I had relied on to back me up and help me out.
I walked back into the house and Joker's friend followed me. "Who were those guys?"
"People who lived here."
"Aren't they going to help us out?"
"Apparently not."
"That blond kid, you knew him well?"
I shrugged. What am I suppose to say other than 'I thought I did.'
"He seemed like a real asshole."
"Yeah I guess he is."
I left this post for months because I didn't want this story to end like this. Pacem was one of my closest friends in AMP. It wasn't that I was even mad at him, it was that I was disappointed that this was who he turned out to be.
We talked briefly only about business a few times over the next while in the course of wrapping up the house stuff. It was not until six months later when I had had yet another stupid boy-related adventure that I was upset about that we wound up striking up a serious conversation.
"I've been..." he pauses, "working through some stuff. I'm really sorry that I took it out on you."
I use to hear stories like this from my friends and tell them they're crazy to forgive people like this, but I guess if all people were held to those standards I'd be shit out of luck myself.
"I'm sorry too."
"We're heading up to the casinos that last weekend," he says.
I glare at him. We have four houses to shut down and clean and a ton of furniture to move and now he's skipping out with how many people?
"We'll clean up a ton on Sunday and Monday to make up for it. We don't really need a whole weekend to clean. I promise, we'll make up the time."
I shrug. There isn't a whole lot of point to arguing with somebody whose mind is made up that firmly. Pacem knew damn well how much work this was going to be: he, the guy I was dating at the time, and I had spent a whole weekend last time cleaning up only one house, and that one had been subjected to a lot less wear.
***
They came home Sunday sunburnt and tired. They slept a few hours and then drank until one threw up on the carpet we had finished cleaning. The next day was Monday. They sat on the couch, still hung over, and announced they were going to the beach. I was carrying a load of food and supplies from Delta to Alpha when Pacem came up to me to say goodbye since they were getting on the plane right from the beach. He wanted a hug. His eyes were dead.
"You're going?"
"Yeah."
"You said you'd help..."
"Well the car's leaving now."
"We'll see you again soon Pika," Tiffany interjected.
"Yeah, whatever," I respond.
"Aww," she continues, "don't be sad, we probably will..."
The truth was that right then I never wanted to see any of them again in my life. Turning back to Pacem I hugged him so I wouldn't be that asshole who leaves somebody with outstretched arms hanging, "You promised," I said.
"Promised what?"
I'm pretty proud of not flat-out decking him right there. It was just the last straw after a whole summer of passive aggressive bullshit from somebody who I had relied on to back me up and help me out.
I walked back into the house and Joker's friend followed me. "Who were those guys?"
"People who lived here."
"Aren't they going to help us out?"
"Apparently not."
"That blond kid, you knew him well?"
I shrugged. What am I suppose to say other than 'I thought I did.'
"He seemed like a real asshole."
"Yeah I guess he is."
***
I left this post for months because I didn't want this story to end like this. Pacem was one of my closest friends in AMP. It wasn't that I was even mad at him, it was that I was disappointed that this was who he turned out to be.
We talked briefly only about business a few times over the next while in the course of wrapping up the house stuff. It was not until six months later when I had had yet another stupid boy-related adventure that I was upset about that we wound up striking up a serious conversation.
"I've been..." he pauses, "working through some stuff. I'm really sorry that I took it out on you."
I use to hear stories like this from my friends and tell them they're crazy to forgive people like this, but I guess if all people were held to those standards I'd be shit out of luck myself.
"I'm sorry too."
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