I Thought I Knew Pain Before...

Sophomore year without Mr. Nice Guy was kind of like a settling in period for me. A lot of time was spent getting to know my way around Boston. I felt like I was finally finding my place. Just before the beginning of junior year I was walking around Boston enjoying the warm weather, when who should I see on the street corner, but Mr. Nice Guy! He came up to me and gave me a big hug and then apologized for being sweaty from riding his bike. Do you think I cared that he was sweaty? Of course not! We did the usual chitchat thing, and he told me that he was kind of sad that his old roommate that he moved off-campus with left school. At the time his next words didn't really register that much. He said, "Now that I'm living with a cop it should be easier for me to stay sober." I thought his sobriety was firmly in hand, so I didn't think twice about his words.


After that day I saw him all the time. One day I was headed back to the dorms after class and was waiting to cross the street. As I'm standing there, he comes walking up to me from the other direction. We hug, and chat for a few minutes. He's eating biscotti and gets down to the last bite. He offers it to me, but I don't want to take it because it's the last bite. He's like "Come on. It's the last bite." So I take it and we part ways. I remember having a warm feeling inside because he gave me the last bite of his biscotti. Cheesy, I know, but I'm a romantic at heart. Another time I ran into him a day or two before my 21st birthday. I told him that me and some friends were going out to celebrate and invited him along, but he had other plans. He was like "I'll have to buy you a beer sometime." Of course I don't drink and I let him know that. With a hug we parted at the corner, and I spent the rest of the day all dreamy-eyed from having seen him again.

Because we kept running into each other so frequently I just knew this was a sign. My love for him had been rekindled so I decided it was time to lay it all on the line. I found out his student mailbox number and decided to send him a note. Basically the note said I missed hanging out with him and that maybe we could get together. I gave him my number and told him to call me. So I dropped it off at the student mailroom and then I waited. A few days go by, no phone call. A week goes by, no phone call. I finally actually see him in the mailroom one day while I'm checking my mail. We hug and I ask him if he got my note. He said yes, but that he lost it along with $200 that he had in his pocket. He told me he'd definitely like to hang out and asked for my number. He also gave me his. That weekend I called him, but his roommate answered the phone and said he wasn't there. I left a message for him to call me, and the waiting began again. A few days later I was on the phone telling my mom about how I had called him and he hadn't called me back when call waiting beeped in. Lo and behold it was Mr. Nice Guy returning my phone call. Apparently he had been in the studio doing some recording (he was a drummer), and found the message that I had called on a note on the refrigerator. He said that he had recorded some really good stuff, and that I should come over sometime and listen to it. In my mind I was thinking "Yes!". I was thinking that maybe we'd finally be alone together so that I could confess my feelings to him. He said he'd let me know when I could come over.

That next week I saw him outside a convenience store across from my dorm. I was walking with the friend of mine who used to always point out my accent and she didn't like him. He didn't really like her either, but that's beside the point. I remember he was eating a small bag of Baked Lay's and he offered us both some. He was always really kind like that. We all chatted for a bit and then she and I left. Little did I know that was the last time I'd ever see him.

That next week during my usual travels around campus I kept expecting to see him, but I never did. The night of October 20, 1996 into the morning of October 21, 1996 was awful for me. During the night I kept having the recurring nightmare that someone had slit the throats of the cast of the show "Friends". I could see the bright red blood from the slashes on their throats and their heads were lolling back. I'd wake up from it, but everytime I fell asleep I would see that same image again. The next morning I felt awful, like a cloak of misery had been draped around me. I didn't want to get out of bed. It was so bad that I skipped my first class that day, which was at 9:00 in the morning. When I did get out of bed I looked out the window to the church across the street. I saw a statue of an angel there, but all I could think of was how awful I felt. It was such a gloomy day outside, which matched the feelings inside me. Finally I decided to go to my afternoon class. At the end of class I saw my roommate standing outside the door. When I walked up to her and asked her what was up, I couldn't believe the words that came out of her mouth. She said, "Mr. Nice Guy is dead." My immediate response was "You're lying!" She said no and went on to tell me that there was a sign in the Production and Engineering Department (since that was his major) announcing it.

We walked to the department so that I could see the sign for myself. There it was in black and white. That's when my world came crashing down around me. My roommate and accent girl both had to go to class, so I went back to my room. With tears streaming down my face, I immediately called my mom. When she answered the phone the first words out of my mouth were "He's dead!" Of course she had no clue who I was talking about. Through my sobs I explained to her what I had found out. Word was he had been hit by a car while riding his bike. Later accent girl told me she heard he had OD'd. It didn't matter to me how he died. All I knew was that the man I loved had died before I had the chance to express my feelings to him. After I hung up with my mom all I could do was cry. I sat on the floor of my dormroom and bawled like a baby. I cried so hard that I literally made myself sick. At one point I had to go to the bathroom and throw up. The next day there was a memorial service for him at school. My roommate and I went, but all I could do is sit there as my tears flowed. How was it possible that my first real love had been taken from me?