Chad and I met our junior year of college, at a regional school in northeast Minnesota. I would’ve been about 21, was studying writing, and he was maybe a year older. You wouldn’t ever hear about our school in any magazine best-of lists, but it was an education, and had a decent reputation in the upper Midwest.
We met when we ran into each other in the library commons one day right before midwinter break. We literally ran into each other — I got distracted by the therapy dogs they had around for finals weeks, and he was texting and accidentally shoulder checked me. Chad was blond, boyish, and built like a brick shithouse. He stood about 6’4” and had a healthy padding of chub over his muscle; the kinda dude that looks like he plays rugby and lifts, but has never turned down a donut in his life.
“Oh shit, my bad!” He grabbed me firmly to keep me from losing my balance, and his hand covered my entire shoulder. Now, I’m not a particularly small guy, about 5’10” with a respectable build, but next to Chad even a quarterback would look petite. His grip was firm and kinda hurt a little, but in the way a good massage hurts. It’d be a lie to say it didn’t get my blood pumping, but I tried to brush it off and focus. Confident I wasn’t gonna bite it, he loosened his grip and looked around to see where his phone skittered off to.
“Aw man, I’m sorry, I wasn’t payin’ attention.” I saw his phone first, and crouched down to pick it up. A crack ran from one corner to the next. I grimaced as I handed it back. “Was it like that before?”
He shook his head and laughed. “No, but it’s okay. It’s not the first time. My roommate is a techie, and he’s fixed it before. Dude’s a wizard with phones and shit.” His voice was deep and confident, but had some softness around the edges.
“I feel bad, dude.”
“Totally my fault,” he said, stuffing his phone into his pocket. “There’s a lot of me and I’m hard to miss. Don’t sweat it.”
“Can I least give you a few bucks for the new glass for your screen?”
He rolled his eyes. “You really don’t wanna let this go, do you?”
I shrugged. “If I break somethin’ I wanna fix it.”
He tilted his head just slightly, looking me in the eye. He frowned, but not in an angry way — he frowned in the way you do when you don’t understand a question or you’re trying figure out a puzzle.
“You’re good, aren’t you,” he said. “Like, you’re a genuinely good person.”
It wasn’t a question.
I stuffed my hands into my pockets, suddenly self-conscious. It was a weird thing to say, but it felt good hearing him say it. “I try to be.”
He nodded, a smile teasing at the corner of his mouth. “I won’t let you give me money, but I’m going to a bonfire with some of my buddies and their girlfriends tonight. Bring a fifth of whiskey to pass around and we’ll call it even.”
He held out his hand. I smiled, nodded, and shook his hand firmly. God, his hands were big. And warm. And softer than I expected them to be.
“You got it . . .” I paused, realizing I didn’t know his name.”
“Chad.” He was quick on the draw, this one. “My name is Chad.”
I smiled. “You got it Chad. I’ll bring the finest bourbon that Jay’s Party Store has to offer.”
He laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. “Good man, good man. We’ll be at Northview Creek, off Madison and 36th. You know it?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I toured them once. That shit’s expensive.”
“Oh god yeah, my broke ass could never afford to live there. It’s my buddy Trevor’s place, I guess his dad is some big shot defense lawyer from Minneapolis? His grades are shit, but he’s a legacy student.”
“That tracks.”
“Yeah, he’s an arrogant prick, but he’s chill enough, and he always has the expensive liquor.”
I laughed. “And that’s what really matters in a friendship, is the quality of booze you bring to the table.”
Chad winked at me. “You get it . . .” It was his turn to pause.
“Mason.”
“You get it Mason.” He smiled and hiked his backpack up on his shoulder. He clapped me on the back as he walked off. “Hey, I gotta get to class, but I’ll see you tonight. 8 o’clock, don’t be late! Or do, whatever, we’ll be there all night.”
