Hello Is Not Just A Word

Hello. Hello. Hello.

Someone I knew used to do that.

Every time he spoke to me, he would say

Hello. Hello. Hello

Every time he entered a room, empty or not, he would also say hello three times. When he was leaving? He would say hello to the hallway three times. When he had to come back into a room five minutes later because he forgot something? He would go through his ritual again. And he could never just whisper it, oh no. Never hide it under his breath. He would say hello as if 12 old men suffering from -I believe the ailment is called tinnitus, yes that is correct- tinnitus were in the room. He never said goodbye. Not even an “I’ll see you later”. Reader, understand that he always had to say hello.

Are you thinking he was doing it to be kind? Are you thinking he was making a point of greeting people or objects because he wanted to make sure that wherever he went a light sort of jovialty followed him? Or maybe you think it was mild superstition for him to get out his pleasantries? It’s okay if you think any of these things; you wouldn’t be the first. People that were just meeting him for the first time usually thought along those lines as well. However, you come to realize that after hearing a word more times a day than you probably hear your own name, you start to get annoyed.

You try and hide your displeasure because you realize, you finally realize, he didn’t have a choice in the matter. He just had to say hello. I believe he called it a disorder of some kind, but I forget because it was so long ago. Ah. You now wonder how I know this? You wonder who I am to him, or maybe even to you. Do not worry reader, I’ll get there. Before you know me, you must know my friend.

You see, he never told me his name. I do not think he thought that he had to. Well to be perfectly honest, it is just as well he did not seeing as I have no use for his name. He used me as much as I used him. He would spill, disclose, reveal things about himself I do not think he was even aware of until he was revealing them to me. I, in turn, did my best to receive as much as I was could. To collect his dreams, thoughts, fears and hopes. Remember what I said about people’s displeasure about his salutations? I only knew about that because he told me. Just like how I only knew he didn’t do it out of comfort, but out of necessity for his own peace of mind because he told me.

But he was kind. At least, in the way I understood kindness to be. He would go out of his way to help people like him. He started a club at his college, educated those that did not understand what it was like to be like him, traveled to speak to people, and so on. I was not always with him, and he did not tell me about every little thing he was doing, but he never forgot to let me know about the big things. I think he was scared that if he did not tell someone -and of course he chose me because telling me was like telling himself- then the weights of the taunts he had heard throughout his childhood, the disbelief of the doctors, the tiredness of his own mind would make him forget what he is indeed capable of doing.

I say he was kind. Believe me when I tell you that if I noticed it, then the people around him did as well. So much so that he was nominated for some type of award I believe. It was given by his school to students who are heavily involved in the community. It was not an award based on academic merit I assure you; the boy was a kind of saint, not a Rhodes Scholar. But I do not think I had ever heard my friend happier than when he was when he spoke to me about it.

“Hello. Hello. Hello. $20,000!” he said “$20,000! I can pay my tuition! I can get that car that had a good deal over at Joe’s. Shit, I can take Bill to that nice restaurant over by the beach. Wait, didn’t he say he’s allergic to seafood? But there’s no way the restaurant only has seafood?”

Reader, as you can see, my friend here was considering taking his partner to a restaurant by the beach and wondering if they would be able to avoid seafood. I leave you to smile if you would like. Maybe even that slight exhale and half-smile people do when they find something slightly amusing.

Anyway, he continued

“Hold on. What the hell is wrong with me? That money should probably go back into the club. We need new equipment anyway and we can actually look into setting up a chapter in the high school.”

And on and on he went. He was not looking to me for a response and I did not have one to give him. He never did tell me what he had decided to do with the money, but he did not need to. I had known him long enough to know what he was going to do. He was kind.

Hear this, he could not have told me of his decision even if he wanted to. My use has been exhausted. I had been filled with stories about my friend and now, I am old. I was given to him when his legs could not yet reach the floor when he sat on the chair he would later use to study for his college exams. My first pages are filled with faded scribbles that neither I nor he remember, and my last pages are filled with the thoughts of a boy who is still not sure if the world would welcome him as a man. I have mentioned there were times he told me things. Reader, understand that I was not trying to deceive you. See, sometimes when he would write in me, he would speak to himself as if saying the words would transfer their impressions as well as their meanings into my pages. The black of my cover has faded and my last pages are filling up. As he grew older he did not write in me as often, but when he would remember me, he would dig me out of wherever he had dumped me the last time and fill me with paragraphs of his life. I am old. I am running out of space. I have seen him grow but he will see me end. I want you to know that I hope he will replace me. I do not think he knew how much writing in me helped him live with those things that he did because he had to and not because he wanted to. It was so long ago that he wrote the name of his condition in me that I am afraid to say I do not remember what it is called.

I am old. My pages have been filled and I have no more space.

Reader, hello. Hello.

Hello.