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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1429378-AJ-and-Me
by Jessie
Rated: E · Chapter · Relationship · #1429378
Part of chapter 4 of my memoir. I used it for a writing assignment.
He types with passion smoking from his fingertips. The portrait of his mind is on the computer screen and I'm in awe of his magic. He knows exactly what to say when, and he's always on point. It's slightly scary, but amazing to observe. He is the kind of friend that I have always wanted. He has troubles that I couldn't imagine, but he is very proud of himself. I loved everything about him; the way his leather jacket smelt of his quirkiness and his hair symbolized the imperfection that he had seen within himself. He was always entertaining and made me feel safe. He was the friend I had always wanted.
This is who he was in high school; a writer with extraordinary gifts, a writer who didn't know or care if he was going to change the world, a young writer with an old soul. Above all, a writer.
Alexander Scott Johnson was "the new kid" from Arizona. He was very mysterious and rarely talked to anyone. I met him through West Ottawa's theatre program, which he was very involved with. Actually, the first time I saw him was for the first round of callbacks for "Our Town". Normally, I visit with my friends before going in to sell my soul to be in a show, but today was different.
I walked to the large group room. I was alone, except for AJ, what he said he wanted to be called. He was sitting by himself on the bench reading. I had never seen him before and curiosity always interested me. The chance that I was about to take would change me. I saw him, took in a calming breath, and slowly walked over to him.
"Hi. I'm Jessie," I said. I, for some strange reason, wasn't hesitating. "Who are you?" I had my hand out to shake his. I believe that a good hand shake tells you everything about your upcoming friendship with that person.
He didn't grab the hand.
"Human." He replied back to me. His voice was monotone, very dry, but still easy to hear.
"Ok." I walked away. His response obviously told me to get away from him pronto.
For the rest of callbacks, he sat alone and only spoke when he was spoken to. A small part of me felt sorry for him. The other part was still very curious. Getting to know him was beginning to be like a cat and mouse chase. Every time I glanced at him, something inside of me changed. I'm not sure what did.
There was one event that confirmed that our "friendship" had changed.
The film "Across The Universe" had come out in the movie theaters and a group of friends, about seven of us, planned to see it. AJ was invited to come. They all liked him, whereas I didn't know him much at all, which made things somewhat awkward. We bought tickets and entered the theater. I looked around and he was gone. The sad thing is that no one noticed. Guessing that everything was probably going to be just fine, we walked and took our seats. Initially, he didn't sit with us. All he did, before the previews came on, was walk, up and down the aisles, counting the chairs. It was confusing.
I leaned over to my friend Robert, and said, "What is he doing?"
"He has OCD," he replied. "That's what he does." I was instructed not to worry about it, so I didn't.
He finally sat down and the film started.
During the course of the film, he kept moving. Like he was strangely uncomfortable. The fact that no one noticed him, again, made me feel awkward, but also bad.
After the movie was finished, we decided that we were going to Starbucks. It was 9:15 pm and we wanted to discuss what we just experienced.
Starbucks was empty. Our group ordered our coffee and sat down. While we were sitting, AJ grabbed his coffee and walked outside. Robert told me not to bother him. That maybe he couldn't get the colors out of his head, like the rest of us. But something inside of me knew that the colors weren't the issue. It was something else. Something that I knew needed to be changed.
The city lights were shining as I walked outside. It was a brisk October night, and I wanted to make sure that AJ was okay. I looked and he wasn't near the outside tables. I walked around, with no jacket on, and turned the corner. There he stood, the way James Dean always stood, with his right leg propped up. His right foot against the wall, looking out. I went up to him and mimicked him. I stood there for a moment before I could think of what to say.
"What's wrong?" I asked him. Again, it wasn't scary to talk to him. He still says that he tends to scare people, but weirdly, I don't.
"Everything." He replied in his monotone voice. "I'm dissecting the lights in the Logan's restaurant sign. There are so many of them."
"Close your eyes."
"I can't." He never looked at me.
"Why not?" I wasn't taking no for an answer.
"Because I can't. The specks of yellow and red light are haunting me."
Without thinking, I grabbed him and just held him for five minutes. He needed someone to take over him and try to solve his problems. No matter how deep and complicated he made them to be. I told him to close his eyes and imagine leaving this place. I could tell by his body language that he wanted to, but something was keeping him from doing it. I silently prayed to myself hoping he was going to get better. While I was busy praying, he hugged me back.
Suddenly, in this moment, I felt like we were supposed to hug each other like this. I felt that this was the friendship that was supposed to change my life. We were supposed to meet each other. Like God had planned it. I never knew it then, but AJ and my friendship with him changed my life.
"Thank you." He said. This time, his voice became alive. Different from the monotone dry-ness I was used to hearing.
"C'mon," I said. "Let's go. They all miss you."
We walked back inside. I could tell that something was better. I don't know if I completely solved it, but it was better.
Despite how we first met, AJ and I have become close friends. He's the one person in my life who can help me solve any problem I have. I don't need to expect that from him. He knows it. I know it. And I love him for that.
© Copyright 2008 Jessie (jessiemiller at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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