Chapter 76: Something In Common

It was a good question. It seems it was on more than a few minds.

            Jim began. “MM. Help me out here. Our connection goes back to first year. Not to get crass about it, but it seemed that, at least in my more naïve days, money attracted money. It seemed inevitable that your family money would somehow run into mine. Looking back, your family money makes mine look like chump change. As I recalled, there were a few parties, tailgating at Scott Stadium and the ski trip to Killington our first year.”

            That’s it. Killington. The trip I couldn’t afford. And if you recall, MM, I got unceremoniously dumped by the lot of you after that.

            “Do I have it right so far? After that, everything cooled. We went our separate ways. And that, as far as I can remember, was the end of it. No offense.”

            “None taken, Jim. And, yes. Our circles didn’t overlap much after that.”

            “Then what about me?” Dr. Jeff flashed a smile. “Honestly, I don’t remember you from our undergraduate days, MM. It’s only through the various donors’ programs that we have a connection. At least that’s what I remember. Am I missing something?”

            MM stood and walked behind each of us, slowing as she reached Dr. Jeff.  She placed her hand on his shoulder. “No, Jeffrey. You didn’t miss anything.” She patted his shoulder, smiled and turned to Mallory. “Mallory, you had a question earlier, before lunch. You thought you might be at the wrong table. Let me assure you, you’re at the right table. And you have a lot, actually, in common with the rest of us. You see, I was also in the old dorms, right across from Metcalf.”

            “Humphries. That was the other old dorm that had a co-ed third floor,” Mallory recalled. “You must have been in Humphries Dorm.”

            “Third floor, east. We were the ground-breakers of the day. First class to mix it up, so to speak. My parents thought it was so progressive.” MM stopped, lost in her thoughts. “So long ago.”

            “Ok,” Mallory said. “But I’m still missing the connection.”

            “Oh, that’s easy. You’re the connection, Drew,” MM pointed at me. “Mallory’s flowers were legend. Nobody, I mean nobody in their first year sends roses. A dozen. Long-stemmed. It was so romantic. Talk about grand gestures. Drew, you blew us all out of the water.”

            I was confused and wishing myself out of the spotlight for the second time in less than 24 hours.

            “That’s it? I mean, I agree, the flowers were such a nice apology.” And, looking around the table, Mallory added, “You all know that the flowers were Drew’s way of apologizing. For standing me up. Right?” Laughter rippled around the table.

            Mallory continued. “For a 19-year-old girl who was struggling to fit in, the flowers said ‘There are still nice guys out there.’ The whole story had the ending of a Hallmark movie.”

MM smiled at the memory.

“Yeah, except Cinderella gets no sex and the prince is gay. Other than that, nice gesture, Drew,” Dr. Jeff added, chuckling.

MM also laughed, continuing around the table. “Mallory, you said, ‘nice.’ It was a ‘nice apology.’ That’s the key, the web that forms the connection here, four decades later. Anyone else want to take a stab at why they’re here?”

            “So, clearly, Drew was a closeted but very nice guy.” Dr. Jeff’s usual ebullience had been replaced by a pensive reserve. “And, he was one of the guys who helped save Henry, another guy on our hall, from a suicide attempt. We spoke about that this morning at the LGBTQ+ meeting. But—why me? Why am I here. Nice? Is that it?”

            MM’s warm smile from earlier returned. Carefully, she said, “Tell the group how you and Keith met. Tell them what you told me.”

            Jeff looked down, toying with the linen napkin in his lap. “Oh, we met the normal way. Through friends.”

            “Jeffery.” MM prodded.

            “The rest is kind of personal.” Jeff looked at his husband for his cue.

Keith smiled and nodded. “We’re all friends here.”

Jeff sighed and continued. “Ok, then. First, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s a part of a lovely story. Our story. The one we remind ourselves of every day. You see, I met Keith on the National Suicide Hotline. The midnight to seven shift. We were both graduate students at Tulane. I was so caffeinated, trying to stay awake. Keith called in about 2:30 a.m., maybe a little earlier. He was feeling pretty shaky. I just talked to him.” Jeff’s voice broke. Taking a deep breath, he regained his composure and continued.

“I don’t remember what we said, exactly, but I remember urging him not to hang up. Just, ‘hang on,’ or ‘hang in there.’ But never hang up. And he didn’t. The sun was coming up when we finally agreed on a safety plan that included an appointment with Student Health. I agreed to meet him there at 7 a.m., right after my shift ended. And that’s what we did. And that, folks, was how we met.

"And I, for one, am so grateful we did.” Keith rose and put his arms around his husband.

“That story always makes me cry.” Troy said, breaking the silence.

“Well, there’s no way my story can follow that one,” Jim said, smiling.

I felt myself rise to my feet. “I think it can.” I turned to the group and said, “What about a guy who sacrifices all of his dreams—puts them all on hold while standing at the edge of opportunity—to help his mother get back on her feet? All this, after his father dies and leaves them without anything. MM, you two had everything in common in our first  year. And, three weeks after graduation? Not so much. I’m proud to know anyone who could do what Jim did. So, Jim, the very least what you did qualifies for, in my humble opinion, is ‘nice.’ That’s the bare minimum. Am I in the ballpark, MM?”

“Home run, Drew. Home run.” MM beamed.