The Two Amigops

I

It had been awhile since I had last seen him. Well, I should not say that. About two months it must have been. It was a warmer May day, early in the morning. Every Sunday morning we went to church, not so much for the religious experience, but for our own company. A company which in the past could not have been relinquished, but today only held on to by a string, a string of hope that one day it would be like it was.
It was my fault in actuality. I have always been fickle in almost everything, including friendships. There was a friend I once had who lived only two houses up from me. Two houses up may not seem like any form of significant distance, but there was decent space between the houses in my neighborhood, and it was uphill, and his driveway was long, and we always went to his house. But, I guess that is my fault too. My house, in my own personal opinion, was far less appealing than his, however probably everyone has that feeling. His house was far more grandiose though than the rest of the houses on the street. The colonial house was flanked by a garage which rivaled its size. The former garage transformed into a game room, the room which we spent the most time.
Loaded with board games, a television, videogames, and pool and air hockey tables, we could quite literally coop ourselves inside that room for hours with any lack of boredom. But the most fun for the both of us was the videogames. Probably more for me than for him, mostly because of the fact they were rated mature and, being in elementary school, was prohibited by my parents. Having a chance to defy my parents’ guidance and indulge in an activity which they were against was exciting. This is probably the primary reason I always wanted to go to his house. Who would not want to be at a house like that? Who would want to spend their time at my house having a grand ole time playing a game of mundane Monopoly or monotonous Mario?
My point is we really liked one another for years, and then one day it all stopped. It was not a slow fade, a fight between us, or anything, quite the opposite really. It was like picking up the phone only to hear a telemarketer bark about the latest and greatest product, and amid stating the reasons why it is the latest and greatest product you hang up. A stream of words immediately screeching to a silent halt. I never went back to his house anymore. Honestly, I cannot even recall holding any form of conversation with him since. I may have said ‘hello’ to him a few times when we passed in school, but that was all.
While my relationship with Richie did not or has not ended as abruptly, rather a slow fade in which neither had the ability to stop it occurred, a decaying relationship between longtime friends.



II

My dad always drove us to church. He did not stay himself, neither did my mom, they would always say they ‘did their time’. I do not remember if I knew then he would be at church that May day, but I was always under the impression he would show. As my dad came to a stop in front of the church I searched sort of eagerly, sort of by habit for a putrid green Subaru Outback parked in the handicap spots. Richie most often came with his grandmother. I spotted it only a few spaces down from where we stopped; I turned to my father and proceeded out of the car.
The church was large, not like an ordinary church. The actual church part of the church was a large room which almost took up a quarter of the building. Outside the walls were colored a generic white, a white like a classroom wall white. The type of white on a wall designed not to distract you, but as you daydream you often find yourself staring at one. That kind of white. Inside though one immediately notices the wall is only a facade. To the left you can peek into the church, behind the altar a large mosaic in rainbow colors of a cross and large hanging chandeliers from the wooden ceiling. Upstairs, which is where most of the kids headed for Sunday School, and immediately to the right was the youth lounge. A seventh to twelfth grade classroom lined with couches against every wall and a massive television on a stand a few feet from the door.
I saw Richie now. He sat there with the goofy smile he almost always met me with. He was tanner than before. Not really a surprise though, for as spring came around he always sprung outside. He was into bugs when he was younger, not so much now as he no longer had his jar of ants or his bug vacuum. He still was quite the outdoorsmen though; he was in the boy scouts and loved to ride bikes. He was wearing a nice shirt and pants, as was fitting church attire; however, masking his ankles and some part of his pants were his hiking boots, a little muddy from yesterday due to the drizzle which came through. I sat down next to him, and in the moments before class we caught up, as we always did.

III

I said earlier how we often came to Sunday School not so much for the religious experience, but for each other’s company. A few years back we successfully drove our teacher from ever teaching again. Of course we had no intention of that occurring, though through our constant meddling and pranks, it did not help. The final straw, at least what we speculated, was when we locked a girl in the closet. Locked as in we barricaded the door shut by stacking tables and chairs in front of it and refusing to let her out. Most closets do not have locks on them so we had to improvise. By around the twenty minute mark she was pretty upset. That is when the teacher came, she was mad. She demanded we immediately take down our makeshift blockade and free her. When she was released, we had to apologize to her, she said there were no hard feelings, but we’ve never seen her since, so I guess we there were. I cannot remember why we did that, probably because we had some form of affection for her, or we were just jerks.
Our teacher quit at the end of the year. She said she was going to a different church, but Richie and I thought we were the perpetrators of that. I missed her; I bet most of us did. Sunday School teachers were mostly elderly and dull. Her attitude invigorated the conversation and the lessons taught during class intrigued me.
Our driving her away brought me to the realization I should change. This time in my life is when my relationship with Richie was fading, which only further prompted it.

IV



When class began, Richie and I listened intently, but made snide comments on the side whenever we could. We were finishing our eighth grade year, a peak point of immaturity, especially about sex jokes. A certain string of words which could be misinterpreted with a mind in the gutter was all it took and hysterical giggles reverberated from our couch.


I became conscious of these few moments in class that day. For a while there was a lack of obnoxious giggles and idle chatter. Now it seemed those past few months were swept away like dirt under a rug. The rest of the class was enjoyable; towards the end Richie invited me to his place. I was reluctant at first to be honest. Not because of it being out of the way, it was not, but because of the recent breach we had. I chose to go. Today, I am quite glad I did.


His grandparent’s house, the house aforementioned, was next door to my grandparent’s. I had to walk through the backyard due to the three foot tall wall of bushes which separated the properties. His dog greeted me from its cage with loud barking as I walked by. Its name was Hussie, which at the time I had no concept of its meaning, and I ordered it to shut up. The dog knew who I was, whimpered and went into its makeshift doghouse, which leaned slightly back onto the wall of the garage the cage was attached to.


Once I reached the back door, I rang the doorbell. For a couple minutes I stood there waiting, then, remembering the doorbell sometimes did not work, began knocking loudly. Richie answered the door a half minute later with a quick sorry under his breath. He led me then to his bedroom where a television was set along the opposite wall of the door with a Wii set up to play. It was on and across the screen it read Call of Duty.


The game was rated mature; I was sort of excited to see what the game would be, for I had never heard of the game. We got to playing it and I was addicted almost immediately. By the time it was for me to go, I did not want to leave for we were having just too much fun. When I left, all I could look forward to was the next time we would be together.

V

Looking back it is kind of humorous how our friendship was restored. It may be trivial to some, becoming friends over a videogame. Many may take note that my last great relationship with someone was centered on games and videogames. This time was different. Call of Duty was only the beginning. Though we played it almost every day of the following summer, other activities were sprinkled in. Our friendship forged by playing this game seemed almost insurmountable. We bonded over a videogame. It’s kind of funny looking back. Who bonds over a videogame anyway? I guess Richie and me.
The activities we also partook in included building, tree-climbing, biking, etc. I learned that summer what friendship really was. My past friendships and their eventual endings taught me the consequences of my selfishness. The change I made to myself resulted in my renewed friendship with Richie, which flourished. Recalling us playing Call of Duty for hours on end, topping off bags upon bags of Lemonheads, it was a time to savor. It was the best summer of my life.

VI



It’s been a few years since that summer. Richie and I are better friends than we have ever been. I never knew whether he realized the rift in our relationship, he has never mentioned it, but come to think of it neither have I. He always has been the same towards me, while I perceive that I have changed. I always presumed he had not. Today as I write this, I am unwilling to say for sure. It just so happens it is Sunday afternoon; I spoke with him this morning at Sunday School. It engendered the writing of this down. It simply came to me afterward. I never told this story to anyone and I figured the time is right. Now you know. You know the story of Richie and I, some of our ups and downs, our triumphs and follies, and of our undying friendship which has lasted our entire lives.