Acquaintance

TalkingMime

It occurred to me as I watched him sitting there next to that white pillar alone that night that he was probably someone I wouldn't forget for at least another good seven years at least. Actually, I was willing to bet that if someone ten years down the line went, "Hey, you remember that skinny kid we used to train with?" I would still somehow be able to come up with his name. Personally, I think that's pretty remarkable, considering we barely talk to each other.

Then again, it's not like we don't ever talk to each other. I know his birthday is three days after mine and he didn't have much of an opinion of whether he liked living in Texas for the short time he moved there—then again, he didn't really ever seem to have much of an opinion on much of anything. You don't really get to know and remember that kind of information about someone without ever talking to them. And plus, if you've spent at least a total of some two hundred hours within twenty feet of a person within the last seven years, you're likely to have talked to that person at least a few times.

As long as I can remember, he had always been there. Just there, usually not saying much of anything really to anyone, but there nonetheless. There was a month or two when he was in Texas, but he came back after that, mostly to finish high school I think, but I'm not sure. I'm not sure where his family was or who he was living with though. He might have had a younger sister, but I'm not sure about that either.

Probably the most interesting of exchanges between us that I recall consists of the two of us arguing over who should pick up the phone. I insisted that he go get it since he had been at the studio longer. He adamantly responded that I was older, so I should pick it up. By then, the phone had stopped ringing and we both got in trouble for missing the call entirely. I think we were about twelve at that time—I'm pretty sure we were the same age unless that had happened on one of those three days between our birthdays.

Most of the time though, I found myself always trailing a of couple steps behind him during class. Sometimes, I'd spend an entire round trying to match his skill or just get a good clean point on him. But he had been training longer than me, and he had a nice chunk of natural talent, something I lacked, so this had always been the way things were since we met. He didn't go out of his way to flaunt his superior ability or anything either, so the situation didn't bother me too much.

He was pretty quiet in general. After class, he was usually cleaning up, looking rather preoccupied as we walked up and down the studio at a efficient pace, mop in hand while mostly everyone else was talking outside. It wasn't like he was completely anti-social though. I recall him marveling over my SAT score at one point, then telling me I was crazy in his distinct, and probably Vietnamese, accent. I think that was one of the few times he was the one to initiate a somewhat animated, albeit short, conversation.

I sat down next to him next to that pillar late one night after class, and neither of us said anything as we waited for our rides home. Everyone else had left, but his presence alone was a source of comfort. We didn't have anything to say, so we just sat in silence. When my ride came, I said "good night" and left. I was pretty sure he'd be okay on his own.

When our car had pulled away from the studio, he was still sitting there by himself next to the white pillar, his expression unreadable as he stared into the parking lot. After seven years, I still know pretty much nothing about him.

11:40 PM, January 24, 2007