Act One: The Hard Goodbye
Another Friday night passes into memory.
I finished a two hour training session at Zellers and drove home, making sure to scan the parking lot and patio of William’s Coffee Pub. The place was empty of those I knew. I drove home.
After preparing to pass out for a few hours, I receive a call from someone. My mother hands me the phone. “It’s a woman,” she says.
“Really?”
I take the phone in hand and press it to my ear.
“Hello?” “What are you wearing?” “Who is this?” “Your friend, Nathan.” “I don’t know anyone named Nathan.” “Neither do I.”
It was the William’s gang, who were apparently eagerly awaiting my arrival. Somehow, with their mystic powers of friendship, they had veiled themselves in the shadows of the William’s patio, and I had been unable to see them. But whatever. I got in the van and drove to William’s.
A cheer erupted from the crowd of friends after I burst through the door onto the patio, raising my hands in the air and smiling to acknowledge the numerous accolades. They grovelled at my feet like I was royalty, and I touched their heads as a token of my gratitude to their praise.
We all lounged about on the patio. Jenn, Caleb, myself, Fraser, Katie, Nathan, Andreas and Aaron sat counter-clockwise around the table, talking and making jokes. Nathan, Katie and Aaron kept making jokes about Fraser’s imaginary necrophilia, while I was constantly dishing out infamous rebuttles to these attacks - typically focussing on Nathan’s pedophilia.
The most notable insult of mine came about as follows:
Nathan said: “Fraser would love to be on the Titanic because of all the dead people.” Jordan says: “No Nathan. The Titanic is more suitable for you because women and children get off first.”
After Williams, we said goodbye to Jenn for the night and all trekked to Fraser’s house. Everyone drank - including myself (a bit) - and then we all passed out in the living room of Fraser’s absolutely bitchin’ cedar house. Seriously…I want to steal that thing.
Yet, despite the l33t bitchin’-ness of his house, he will be leaving it on Thursday to relocating to a much more capital location. Ottawa! Haha…my wit surely astounds you. Fraser will soon be gone, having hot French sex with his two female roommates. At the same time. I told him that, when that opportunity arises, he should think back to his friends.
I’m fairly certain the act of coitus has been tarnished for him. I guess that is my going away present for him.
In truth, I hope that the bonfire and drinking will be a pleasant “final” memory of his friends in Stratford. Everyone will soon be departing and going to university. It was my intent to have a barbeque with all the gang, but my job at Zellers has effectively interfered with that. I’m thankful that this bonfire/party was able to serve as some sort of “commencement” ceremony as our lives all move onto the next step.
My biggest problem now is what to do with Binkle and Andrew. They’re two of my closest friends. I don’t really know what to do. I don’t know where to fit it in. Although saying farewell to good guys like Caleb and Fraser is difficult, saying so long to Andrew and Binkle will truly be the hard goodbye.
Act Two: My Gift, My Curse
Life is a fickle thing.
One minute, everything can be going fine. You’re on top of the world. You’re master of your domain. The world is your crustacean of choice.
Then, it takes a turn for the worst. Life experiences a mood swing, and fate decides to shovel shit onto your plate. Why do bad things happen to good people? Everyone asks that. And truthfully, I’ve never noticed it happen in any serious degree. Sure. Maybe someone doesn’t get a job, or a date with the pretty girl in school, or they don’t ace a test. Those aren’t truly bad things though. They’re gutterballs in a game of bowling. It wont kill you.
But then, there are the truly bad things. Physical accidents. Psychological torments. Relationships torn asunder by a horrible action or reaction.
For some reason, horrible events seem to surround my math teachers. You’ve already heard one such story. Now, apparently, there are three. And let me say, when fate was shovelling shit onto these guys plates, it was in hefty amounts.
Grade 10 - Mr. Lane
My second math teacher of my high school. A damn good one too. After school gets out, summer starts. He gets injured in a car accident and can’t teach anymore.
Grade 11 - Mr. O’Reilly
My third math teacher of high school. Tolerated my jokes and whatnot. Acted as eye candy for Karen. Less than a year after being married, his wife screws off on him. He’s getting divorced. He isn’t going to teach at St. Mikes for a year. In lieu of teaching, he is going to travel the world for a full year.
In fact, this is why he’d grown scruffy as of late. I guess it is a good thing Binkle and I didn’t hand him a volleyball and take a picture…
Grade 12 - Mr. Denstedt
My best math teacher, and most recent. Taught me Calculus and Discrete Math. Falls off a ladder and injures himself. Brain damage. He can’t teach. Apparently, the part of his brain that controls emotions is damaged worst. He is often prone to flying off the handle now, and can’t control when he is angry or not.
In these three unrelated events, St. Mikes has lost its math department. Let’s not tell stories here. These guys are the best of the best. Now, Mr. Kocher and Mr. Stehlik stand alone with fuckin’ Ort. All of my previous math teachers have had some ill befall them.
Fate is such bullshit. When I heard of Mr. Denstedt’s accident, I knew I was going to be a math teacher. The news of Mr. Lane and Mr. O’Reilly made me firm in that decision.
However, I would a sign from somthing akin to a card in the mail that read:
“Become a math teacher. - God”
I feel sorry for these guys. I wish I could do something. Yet, despite my talk of God above, I’m not a praying man. I feel useless when it comes to helping these guys.
Act Three: Karma
The dog will be named Sophie.
My mother - unfairly - decided that her name was best.
Apparently, a family vote wasn’t suitable. She just bitched and moaned until everyone else stopped caring and she won.
Typical.
– Jordan