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Pat Hall Everything Jake #796: Junior Year by Mike Rosenzweig "English." "Oh yeah, is it a writer you want to be?" Jake walked over to his bed. He tossed the note Kelly had left him, it floated down and bypassed the bed, heading straight for the floor. Figures, Jake thought. He felt like he was hit with a hammer in the stomach. Not one of those small hammers, either. This was one big fucking Kelly sized slegde hammer, right to the gut. Jake hadn't felt this bad since he learned Mercy died. "Yeah, a writer. Sure." "I'm in archetectural design, or, at least, I want to be, but I'm just not good at math." "You want to be an archetect and you're no good at math?" "Yeah, I guess that sounds kind of silly." Jake sat on his bed, and picked up Kelly's "Dear John" letter off the ground. He folded it too many time so it ended up the size of a small Post-It and put it in his pocket. A "Dear John" letter, Jake thought, and that, more or less, was what it was. Kelly (and Megoth) had broken up with him. How horrible. Wonder if this is what Mecca felt like? "So what'dja do to your firends that they don't like ya anymore?" "Excuse me?" Pat smiled and sat on what used to be Kelly's bed. Jake noted to himself that the bed must be screaming. Pat wasn't a small guy. Jake gave him a good look. There's something funny about him, not just becasue he's a big guy. Something about his lips. And his eyes. He looked slightly... off. Retarted, for lack of a better word. This sucks. I miss Kelly. What the hell did I do? "I asked what you did to make your old roommate not want to talk to you anymore. I know... it's a wee bit personal, but, as your current roomie, maybe it's something we can try to avoid in the future, cause you seem like a nice enough guy." "No one ever accused me of being nice." "Oh, Jake, that's a good line. No, a great line. You're a nice guy. I can tell. I can tell right away. That Kelly, when he came by to drop the note off, not such a nice guy. But you, nice. Trust me." "If you say so, Pat." "So what you do? Steal his girl? Something like that?" "I'd rather not talk about it." "Are you sure?" "Yeah..." "Sometimes, when we speak what's troubling our hearts out loud, Jesus hears you and forgives you." "Did you just say, Jesus will hear me and forgive me?" "Does talk of Jesus bother you? I know it does some people, if it does I'll try and refrain from--" "No, Pat, it's okay. I just... it's been a while since someone mentioned Jeses to me in a way that... that... it's okay, Pat, I'm not offended." "Do you talk to Jesus?" "No. Not for a very long time." "A sibling or parent pass away? Oh, don't answer that, the loss of color in your face tells me I've gone a wee too far, stepped over a boundry or two I told myself I wouldn't. I just can't help it sometimes. I'm a nosy parker, as my mother used to say." The last word resonated in the room, Pat was a lot to take in for Jake, who was used to mostly being ignored or berated by Kelly. Jake didn't dislike Pat, but he wasn't crazy about him either. Guy talks to much. Waaaaaay too much. And he's sweating, it's not that hot in here. I don't know how I'm going to live with him the rest of the semester... I'll kill him. Look at him, there, all quiet, waiting for me to talk. He knows he went a bit too far talking about my mother, but he really just saw right through me. Strange kid. Come on, Jake, do a good thing. Talk to your new roommate. "Where ya from Pat?" "Yonkers. Or, close to Yonkers, Westchester County. You? Long Island, right?" "What gave it away?" "The Islanders sticker on your jersey. You don't see Islander fans outside of Long Island." "You like the Sabres?" "Buffalo? Why would I like Buffalo?" "Isn't Yonkers considered upstate?" "Oh no, Jake, it's right next to the Bronx, home of the Yankees. And no, I don't like the Sabres, or hockey. I'm much more of a football guy." "Giants?" "Unfortunatley, yeah." "Then we have something in common." "Not the first thing. My mother died four years ago." "Oh... um, I'm sorry?" "It's okay, it was four years ago. But isn't it strange?" "What?" "That you said, 'I'm sorry' to me." "It was more of, uh, I-Feel-For-You-Sorry then an I'm-Sorry-I'm-Sorry." "Which is why you're the writer and I am not." "Uh, right." "You a sophmore Jake?" "Junior, actually, you?" "Freshman. I thought you knew." "I do now, Pat." Jake was polite. There was nothing wrong with Pat, nothing at all. But Jake still didn't like him. Jake realized the way Pat looked was like the way a doe looks, right before being shot by some flanneled hunter. That look of naviety, it drove Jake crazy. Pat looked sheltered. He was probably from a rich family (and he was probably loaded, since his mother had passed away, leaving him a gob of money). He most certainly has never been with a girl. NEar a girl. Smelled a girl. Jake would bet that Pat didn't even like porn. Jake smiled somewhere inside his head, Pat Hall (what a stupid name) is the Anti-Kelly. That smile turned to a frown as Pat got up. He was wearing sweat pants. "Hey, roomie, how about I take you out to dinner tonight, you have a car, right?" see, mr. moneybags o'er here "Sure, where do you want to go?" "What's the best place to go around here?" for what, rack of lamb?. "What are you in the mood for?" "I dunno, beer and wings?" Pat laughed, and it hurt Jake's ears. For some reason, the idea of beer and wings seemed to be the funniest idea in the world to Pat. His laugh was high pitched and shirl. It was like there was a dolphin that Pat swallowed and it was suddenly trying rip itself free via his windpipe. It was that bad. Jake actually was startled. "Oh... oh... I kill me." "There's a TGIFridays about a mile or two down the road, near town." "Friday's is fine. Ready?" Jake's first instinct was to see if Megoth wanted to go, and the sinking feeling of rejection and depression hit him again. There was no more Megoth down the hall to bother. Not anymore. "Sure, let's go." Jake got up and grabbed his keys. Even though he just drove five hours (eighty the whole way) he didn't mind drivng to Friday's, he was starving, and didn't realize it until Pat had mention food. Jake smiled. Fat guy love food. Right. They walked out the door of the dorm room, and started down the stairway. "Was it your mother, Jake?" "What???" "That died, I mean. Sorry, just was wondering." "Yeah, Pat, my mom died when I was a kid. Let's leave that alone for now, okay?" "I understand. Just so you know, Jesus has a plan for all of us, Jake, I'm sure she's in a better place." (note from mike: i got my shiny new dell in the mail on Tuesday, strips will start to come regularly again in a few days. hopefully that will last when everything jake does, since i hate missing days and need to get it regular once again. also, welcome all the newbies that hopped on board via the newsbox (i never saw it, was it good?). what does everyone think of pat hall? the message board is working better than normally of late so go join up and post!! thanks for sticking with me in another rough spot, and hope to have everything, uh, jake again soon. :) --Mike)    
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