One day I was eating marshmallows from a garbage pail when out of one of the mallows crawled a house centipede. In the past I’d always erased these critters quickly, but I’d just gotten over a nasty bout of food poisoning and his charismatic gaze melted my weakened heart.
It told me the story of a snowy December afternoon when it watched Back to the Future for the first time. Mischievous little guy had snuck into the theatre where he cozied up to a fat man’s Kodiak and fired up a Dunhill. I asked him if he shared my feelings that BTTF was one of the best movies of all time. He said he couldn’t agree more and we shared a smile.
I called the little guy Gerald, though he insisted I call him Shitty Pete. We ate pizza together that night and watched 20/20 starring a young John Stossel. They were doing a story about breast cancer that really seemed to touch Gerald. I shut off the TV and poured us both some hot tea. Wouldn’t you know it, we didn’t stop talking and giggling ’till dawn.
As the opening theme to Regis and Kelly ramped up, I looked over to see Gerald had fallen asleep. He sure was tired.
I don’t remember how that day ended, only that as he left he patted my back and wished me well. He said we’d meet again, though we never did.
Gerald: It was real.