good syd smith
I have the home phone number of Syd's roommate in hand. We will call him Quentin. Syd knows I will interfere. He gives me the area code only, first. Then the first name. With more prodding, I get Quentin's last name. It's enough for me to google and get kind of an idea of who this roommate is. I look through images and try to discern which is the real Quentin.
Last winter, in the middle of filling out his roommate "match" online, Syd stops, gets up and walks away. "I'll just go with random," he says, not really to anyone.
I ask him in the coming months if he has checked to see who will be his roommate.
"I'll meet him when I move in."
I pretend to be okay with that, but my secret agenda is being worked out in my head.
So now here we are, a month out from school and I have Quentin's whole number. And what good is a phone number if it can't be used to google someone? Let's face it. And what good is that person's identity if it can't be plugged into facebook, where we can hope there is a family member with a public profile.
I find out A LOT. A lot of good things.
I have set my grieving ways aside and am determinedly joyous for move-in day. It's a culmination of 18 years of getting him this far. We will deposit him in the dorm, alongside Quentin, with new towels, new sheets, new Mac book. Now it's time for him to get himself the rest of the way. I cannot wait to see what unfolds, from the far-away sidelines.
Syd and I are friends. I'm proud to say he has inherited my all-out love for Good Will Hunting and Matt Damon. We finished our year-long traipse through all 10 seasons of Friends. Some parents read the Narnia books to their children (Steve.) Some of us watch sitcoms with them. Syd really connected with Joey, and Ross - well we connected with all of them. Jennifer Aniston's hair. Paul Rudd, Brad Pitt, Tom Selleck. All Magical. The magic of Friends.
We watch the last episode, drinking frozen hot chocolate with lots of whipped cream, out of giant glass goblets from the 90's. When it's over, I declare, "Well. That was sad." And then I go into the kitchen to make dinner. Syd follows me. He looks down at me, hugs me, and it lasts more than 2 seconds and our shoulders touch. It's a goodbye.
The days tick off and we are cleaning out his closet as I help him decide what to take with him. He's in the deepest depths of it, behind Steve's cast-off pearl-button shirts, and the ribbon medals carefully hung on a wire hanger. Syd is hurling out stuffed animals. "Pat the Bunny" from his bassinet. He couldn't care less. But then these two come out.
"Puppy and Otter! Oh, so good to see you!" I say.
"Okay, okay, they can go back," says their owner.
He goes to take a few bags downstairs for Goodwill. I arrange Puppy and Otter on the closet shelf and take a picture. Then I go about my business in another part of the room.
"Oh my GOSH!" he says upon seeing them displayed cutely. "Put them back in the box." He is so moving on.
I get a text from him the other day at work. It's a screen shot of an email telling him he got one of the scholarships they give to incoming freshman art students. "So happy right now!!!!!!!" Followed by many emojis including a wave and fireworks.
I will miss his 1,000 watt smile. His stare-offs with Ben at dinner. The way we cry when Ben reads a devotion at the table because his reading voice is indescribable. Like SNL news anchor worthy. There's no describing it, it's just Ben. "What?" Ben always says, in an even flatter voice. Steve sighs. It's the kind of laugh where you try to defend yourself but cannot. "Ben" is all you can get out. You don't dare look at the other person who is flailing around in his seat, as this will only cause more trouble. The person who is hitting the table over and over trying to regain control. You become dizzy from lack of oxygen as you laugh. I will miss this.
But I am not sad anymore.
