Good Old Jared

His antics ceased to astonish Hale. It seemed that everyday it was something new. Hale’s roommate, Jared, was about as quirky an individual as you could imagine. An outsider would probably characterize Jared’s actions as crazy or weird. To Hale, however, they were the everyday occurrences he had learned to live with.

Jared and Hale were seemingly complete opposites. It is quite unimaginable how the two came to occupy the same place. If you asked Hale when he had met Jared he wouldn’t answer with a touching story of how they used to chase girls on the playground, or something of the like. This was because Hale didn’t have an exact memory of his first encounter with Jared. It would be like asking him about the first time he had met his mother. Jared had always just been there, as far back as Hale could remember.

Hale had long since stopped trying to explain Jared’s actions. This was probably because many of the incidents defied any explanation. Besides, most of these situations happened in the house when the two were alone, leaving explanations unnecessary.

Hale woke up at seven in the morning with a dry mouth. He stumbled out of bed, groggily scratched his shock of blond hair, and walked in the general direction of the kitchen. His indirect route, caused by his sleepiness, took him by the spare bedroom. Glancing in he thought he had seen purple markings smeared all over the off-white wall. Without stopping to investigate, Hale convinced himself that they were merely figments of his just awakened imagination. After all, the color of the walls was not the focus of this trip; thirst quenching was his mission.

The mission took the back seat when Hale saw the bathroom. Though he had not noticed upon waking up, he now recognized the uncomfortable feeling in his pajamas for what it was, a full bladder. Hale placed himself in front of the toilet and went about reliving his discomfort. Watching his urine splash into the bowl, Hale wondered if the yellow waste was drinkable. He was thirsty, but not that thirsty. Why drink pee when there is a full gallon of orange juice in the refrigerator?

Hale shuttered, shook, and flushed. He stepped to the sink and saw that Jared had anticipated an oversight in Hale’s hygiene. Written in what appeared to be red lipstick were the words “Don’t forget to wash your hands, dumbass.”

“Good old Jared,” thought Hale. “He’s always looking after me. Could have done without the name-calling, though.” Hand washing complete, Hale focused back on the orange juice.

Jared had apparently had the same urge of thirst, because Hale found him in the kitchen, orange juice carton in hand. Instead of pouring the juice into a glass, Jared had opted for a colander. Hale stood and watched as Jared poured the entire container of juice in to the colander. He raised the colander to his lips and drank as fast as he could while the juice spilled out of the holes onto the counter and floor.

“Thirsty?” asked Hale.

“Oh, I didn’t see you there, buddy. You want some orange juice?” Jared offered up the colander and the juice continued spilling out the bottom, now on Hale’s bare feet.

“No, I think I’ll just have some milk.” Hale went to the refrigerator and searched for the milk. He found the carton, unscrewed the cap and began to chug the milk.

“What the hell are you doing?” snapped Jared. “Don’t you know how to drink something. I mean, drinking straight from the carton. Damn you heathen!”

As Jared finished his rant the last of the juice drained out of the colander right onto the clean dishes in the drainer. The pulp from the juice lined the inside of the colander, and Jared proceeded to spoon the soggy flakes out and eat them. Hale began to comment on the situation, but thought against it, deciding that it really didn’t matter. Best to change the subject.

“Are you wearing lipstick?” Hale asked.

“Yeah,” answered Jared. His lips were smeared with the bright red shade that matched the writing on the bathroom mirror. The flecks of pulp stuck to the sticky lipstick. Jared looked as if he had just made out with a macaroon. “Why? Do you want some?”

Again Hale thought of saying something, and again decided that it wouldn’t really matter. “No thanks,” he said weakly.

“Did you get my note in the bathroom?” Jared asked smiling and revealing his red streaked teeth.

“Yeah. Thanks, I had almost walked out without washing them.”

“You’re pretty bad about that. Good thing I’m here, huh.”

Hale shook his head in agreement. He honestly felt that way, too. Jared was always looking out for him and keeping him on his toes. He was the only true friend that Hale could remember having. Sure he was a bit odd, but we all have our little idiosyncrasies. Jared was Hale’s friend and would do anything for him.

Jared discarded the colander into the sink and walked down the hallway. “Have you seen what I’ve done with the spare bedroom?”
Hale thought. Spare bedroom. Purple. He really had drawn on the walls. “I caught a glimpse of it, I think,” answered Hale as he ran to the spare room. He had been redoing that room hoping to make it into an office. He had just spent a good deal of money painting the walls off-white. “What exactly are you doing?”

Hale stopped at the entrance to the room and his jaw dropped. Jared was standing in the middle of the would-be office holding a purple magic marker. All the walls were covered with purple words. One wall was littered with such words as “solitude,” “Outsiders not welcome,” and “a house divided...” The opposite wall had pictures drawn on it. There were mostly stick figures. The central focus of the wall was a female stick figure with some thing protruding from her head, a knife maybe. Jared stood admiring his work and smiling from ear to ear.

"I was thinking of doing the other two walls in brown, but what do you think? Too poopy?”

“What do I think?” stammered Hale trying to hold back his anger. “I think that you ruined my fucking office! I think that you just cost me a lot of money? I think-“

“Yeah I know, you just painted it,” Jared snapped back, equally as angry. “You just painted it white!” He said the word as if it was a disease.

“So what. I painted it white. What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“You are not a white person!”

“What does that mean?”

Jared looked at Hale shocked, as if he should have known exactly what that meant. Jared tried to calm himself, so he could explain. “The rest of the world is white. They are plain. They have no color or passion. They are muted and boring. You and me-“ Jared seemed to be choking up. His eyes were filling with tears. “You and me are not like them. We are special. We have color. We don’t mute ourselves and hide behind the neutral whites and beiges. Don’t you understand?”

Hale didn't want Jared to get emotional on him. Whenever that happened Hale felt guilty. Still, his walls were written on and he deserved an explanation. “I guess. But what is so bad about being like everyone else?”

“Because we are better than that. We are better than they are. They walk around not knowing what is really important. They are blind to what we know.”

“And what is that? What is really important?”

“We are! Us, together. We live for each other. We take care of each other. The relationship we have, now that’s important. We can never be like them in any way. Do you understand? If we act like them than we’d be better off dead.”

Hale wasn’t sure that he understood entirely what Jared was saying. He knew that Jared was right, though. They depended on each other and took care of one another. Sometime Hale forgot and needed Jared to remind him. Good old Jared, he was always keeping things in perspective. He walked over to Jared and hugged him. “I’m sorry, man. I understand now. We aren’t like them. We never will be. You know I forget sometimes.”

“Yeah, well that’s okay,” Jared sniffled back, still fighting back tears.

They stood embraced in silence for what seemed an eternity. Jared wondered why Hale didn't seem to see the importance of their relationship. Why did he have to remind Hale all the time? Hale felt ashamed for not realizing his mistake. Barking from the back yard broke the silence.

"Damn, that sounds like Rocky," Hale said letting go of Jared. "Sounds like he got into the back yard. I better go get him back before Norma accuses us of stealing him again."

"Yeah, you better," Jared said as he wiped the last of the tears away. He looked at Hale and smiled. "I think I'm done in here. I'll paint it back tomorrow. Sorry I got that way."

"That's okay. You were right, I know that now."
Each of them looked into the eyes of the only true friend either of them knew. Rocky barked again and Hale decided he better get out there quick. If he didn't Rocky would knock over the grill spilling out the used coals or something equally as bothersome.

Hale stepped outside and walked through the front lawn to the backyard gate. The grass in the front was now up to his thigh. They hadn't mowed in weeks. The gate was open just enough for Rocky to squeeze through.

Rocky was the next door neighbor's retriever. He was always getting out and terrorizing the neighbors. He would dig up rose bushes and chew up hoses. He seemed particularly fond of Hale and Jared's backyard. Once when Rocky had gotten back there, Norma, his owner, came over and accused Hale of trying to steal her dog. This couldn't have been further from the truth. It wasn't as if Hale needed someone around to break things and slobber. After all, he already had Jared.

Hale stepped into the backyard and surveyed the grounds. Nothing seemed to be damaged. Rocky was in the corner pawing at the ground. It looked as if he were trying to dig up something.

"Rocky! Get out of there!"

Rocky's head shot up and he glared at Hale. Hale picked up a stick and started over to Rocky. That was all that it took. Rocky shot past Hale through the gate and on to some other yard to bother someone else.

"What were you digging for over here?" Hale walked over to the corner previously occupied by the nosy dog. He looked down and what he saw made him remember.

It looked as if Rocky had dug up the hand and chewed up the fingers. He had most likely found it by the horrible smell. The corpse was decomposing and emanating an atrocious odor. Hale scooped the earth back to its original place, covering up the hand. He would have to do something about the smell.

The corpse's name had been Amanda. She used to be a blond hair blue eyed lady that Hale had met at a sports bar. They were both Cubs fans and started talking in the first inning. By the seventh inning, they had made plans for a date.

The first date led to a second, and so on. Amanda was so easy to talk to and Hale felt very comfortable around her. He didn't have to hide anything from her or pretend as he had with other girls.

After about a month, Hale invited her over for dinner. He was to cook a nice meal and then they were going to enjoy a rental. If things went right, Hale was going to ask her to stay the night, something he had never asked another woman to do.

She was to arrive at 7:00. At 6:00, Hale was setting the table. Jared walked in and saw the setting. He smelled the aroma coming off of the stove and his mouth began to water.

"What are we having, buddy?"

"We are having nothing. This is for me and Mandy."

Jared scowled. It was bad enough that Hale was spending all his free time with her, but bringing her here was going too far. Jared had hoped that Hale would become bored with the girl and that things would go back to normal. Things weren't headed this way, though. Jared had to stop this. If they had sex, then things could escalate. Soon, Hale wouldn't need Jared anymore.

“I don't think this is such a good idea. I mean, how well do you know this girl?"

"She has a name. It's Amanda"

This was bad. Alarms were going off in Jared's mind. "Okay...how well do you know Amanda?"

"You know we've been seeing each other for a while. I've told her about you and she really wants to meet you."

"You told her about me?" Jared was trying to remain calm.

"Yeah, is there a problem with that?"

"Yes, there's a problem with that-"

Hale cut him off. "Well, I don't want to hear about it. I do however want you to not bother us."

Jared raged inside. He had to stay cool, though. Blowing up was not the answer to the problem. "Fine, I'll just hang out in the basement."

Seven o'clock came and so did Amanda. Hale took her jacket and showed her to the table. She took her seat and Hale served the pasta dish he had made. They sat at the table across from each other, a flickering candle burning between them. The meal was fantastic and the conversation even better. By desert, Hale knew that he would be able to ask her to stay and that she would say yes.

After dinner Hale told her to go into the living room and stretch out on the couch. He was just going to clean up the table and he'd be right in to start the movie. Amanda rose and walked out of the dining room, but she never made it to the couch.

Jared showed up and made sure that this relationship went no further. As the knife plunged into the girl's back, relief coated Jared like Pepto Bismal. She tried to scream, but it's hard to scream with a slit throat. Finally she collapsed.

Hale couldn't believe it. He tried to speak, but the words didn't come. He didn't have to speak though. Jared knew what he was thinking, he always did.

"I had to do it. She was coming between us. You know this. I know what you were planning to do tonight. That would have been it. I would have been gone after that. Is that what you want? Me gone. Do you think you could survive with out me?"

Hale felt ashamed. Jared was right. What Hale was trying to do was wrong. He had lost sight of what was important. Jared hadn't. Good old Jared. What would Hale have done without him?

The dusty, blue pickup motored up the street. In the cab Carl Kampf navigated the old vehicle with Carl, Jr. beside him on the passenger side. Carl was selling Junior on the finer points of being a landlord. It was Carl's hope that his son would some day take over the family business and watch over the several rentals he operated. It was a fine living if you knew what you were doing. If Junior would just listen he would be taught all he needed to learn.

Problem was, Junior didn't much like the business his father had. Growing up he saw his father break his back fixing up dumpy houses. He saw him in and out of courtrooms prosecuting deadbeat tenants. This was not the way he wanted to spend his life.

"You see son, there are a few things you gotta watch out for." Carl wasn't sure that Junior was listening, but he went on anyway. "There are two big problems that can occur. First, there are simply those tenants that don't pay. You can't go easy on them. If they don't pay one month, you gotta be on their case. Two months, you threaten court action. On the third month, if the sorry sacks haven't paid, haul their ass into court. You hear me?"

"Yeah I hear you." Junior had heard this stuff time and time again. He knew what was coming next, word for word. But like the good son, he would listen like always.

"Second, there are freeloaders. Tenants will let someone stay with them for a long time. Just because I allow one person to rent my house or apartment, doesn't mean I'm allowing all their shiftless friends to live there. It's the freeloaders that always give you problems. If you see someone is freeloading, you have to stop it. Got it?"

"Yeah, I got it."

The truck came to a stop in front of a shabby looking house that had two colors of paint on it. It was as if two people had started painting it two different colors, brown and purple, and met in the middle. The lawn was severely overgrown with a variety of weeds taking over.

"What a dump," Junior muttered as he and his father climbed out of the truck.

"I know. I'm letting this guy fix this place up. Not sure I like where he's going with it, though." Carl let out a chuckle. Junior wasn't sure what he found so funny. He had expected his dad to be pissed off.

They walked up to the door and rang the bell. Junior wasn't sure he wanted to meet the tenant of this house. They heard commotion from inside the dilapidated abode. A second later the door swung open. Shocked, Junior took a step back.
Carl smiled. "Hey, Hale. How's it going?"

Hale smiled back. "Not too bad. How are you Mr. Kampf?"

"Fine, just fine. Have you met my son, Carl, Jr.?"

"No, I don't believe I have." Hale turned to Junior. "How do you do, I'm Hale."

"I'm Carl...nice to meet you," Carl replied softly.

There was a small, awkward silence broken by Carl, Sr. "It's that time of the month, Hale."

"So, it is. I'll run and get the check." Carl disappeared in to the house. Junior shot his father a perplexed look. Carl just laughed.

"Here ya go," Hale said as he returned, check in hand. "Sorry about the lawn, Mr. Kampf. Jared is trying get it registered through the city as a natural plant habitat. I've tried to talk him out of it, but you know good old Jared. When he gets his mind to do something, there's no use talking him out of it."

"You know I know, Hale. Well, we don't want to keep ya. Have a nice weekend, Hale." The Carls turned and walked back to the truck. Once they were back in the cab, Junior turned to his father. He needed answers.

"Okay, first of all. Who is this Jared? I thought you only rented that place to one guy."

"I do."

"So what about this Jared guy!" This was getting frustrating. "You just told me to watch out for freeloaders."

"Well, how should I put this? To you and me and the rest of the world, there is no Jared. But to Hale..."

"Oh, so he's..."

"Exactly."

"That explains the lipstick and the purple marks all over his hands. But, why would you let someone like that live there. You saw the lawn and the house, right?"

Carl started up the truck and put it into gear. He had his son’s attention now. The boy was going to learn today. "Oh, Hale’s harmless. Besides, son, in this business sometimes you gotta put up with stuff like that. If they pay on time every month you keep em, no matter how strange. Even good old Jared."



If you liked this try "The White Scarf"  or "Brick Walls" .