Submitted short stories

Jay, you are a best friend, a brother, a companion and the best partner in crime. My life is not made up of chapters or selections where you are either a part of it or not. It is a giant compendium of interwoven tales with recurring characters, overarching themes, and one monumental big idea… Life. 

Here we sit on the precipice of new beginnings after traveling a lifetime on this planet. No better time than now (except maybe on our death bed) to look back and reflect how we got here. Spice it up with some whens, wheres and “oh dear god, why?”s and you’ll have the makings of several tall tales known as “The Jay and Matt Show”.  

If I had to sum up most of our time together in one word, I think it might be “Shit”. Any variance really. From the excited “Shit!” to more somber “...shit…” Conjugated works too, like “Shithead” or “Bullshit!” Even our favorite phrases like “Shit happens, rama rama” or, “Holy shit!” And who could forget “Stop breaking our shit!” That fun four-letter word encapsulates many emotions; from joy to anger, sorrow to delight. And we’ve experienced most of those together at one time or another. It’s been shouted at to us by strangers, friends, and parents. Texted more times to each other than either of us could count. Yelled, jested, and hurled at between one another. If I wrote about about us, it might be title “Shit!: The Jay and Matt Show”  

There are several meanings to what I shall now henceforth call ‘our word’. Shit as excrement, as in “you are a piece of…”, generally used negatively. But ‘shit’ can also be used positively, as in “that was the shit… this is the shit…that shit is da bombdigiddy yo” (okay we never used that last one, but we could have). The fact of the matter is, we said ‘shit’ and did ‘shit’ liberally and frequently. 

We met in 7th grade, the details are hazy but somehow you have a scar on your head you claim is my doing. I cannot confirm this event, but I won't deny it either. My next clearest memory is a terrible high school halloween dance at your school. On top of the already necessary awkwardness that is required to occur in all school dances by law of the universe, you almost threw me at a girl and told me to dance with her. I did, but was unsure why at the time. As we spun in circles like drunk toddlers, I’m pretty sure I stepped on her feet no less than a dozen times. I’d find out much later that she was your “girlfriend” (or ex or something). Funny how she’d play a role later in my life during college. Coincidental meeting of a future-girlfriend-from-hell aside, I remember that was probably the night where our friendship really began. When shit really started. 

From that point on high school was much more enjoyable. With a best friend to spend long nights doing absolutely nothing with (and yes, I count you making DBZ decks for Jake or yourself, watching some video on your computer or you play Diablo II, or reading whatever books you had laying around as doing nothing) we were able to hone and discover more about who we were, what we wanted to become, where we might go. Many of our conversations turned to existential topics of what lays beyond our physical sight and understanding. We asked each other exploratory questions about ‘what if’ topics;  

“What if when you die, there’s a giant fish waiting for you?” I’d ask, almost to myself, but knowing you’d respond anyway. I keep staring up at your ceiling fan as I waited. A slight hesitation in the clicks on your keyboard followed by a deep sigh was your first response. Then,  

“What?” 

I’d reach in the air and start molding the words with my hands. “Yeah, a fish. Like, that saying we’re all a part of some turtle’s dream. But instead of a turtle, it’s a goddamn fish!” 

Eventually you’d turn around in your chair to look at me, cock your head, and with a straight serious face you’d ask:“... What kind of fish?” 

Not saying that was an actual conversation, but we can both easily see how it might have been. It was your responses to my insane line of questioning that always prompted the next stage of conversation. And that’s how our nights, days, evenings would go. You, never judging my weirdness, but accepting it as is and embracing me with a hearty “Fuck it, why not?”. Even better for me however, was your skewed logical responses. “What kind of fish?” is indicative of how you accept a scenario, but need more detail in order to proceed with whatever fucked up hypothetical came across our minds.  

There are several stories that spring to mind think of us in high school. One of my favorites is when, spending your birthday and thanksgiving down the coast, we decided to take the Jay and Matt show to the hotel’s elevator. We just wanted to make the stay of the people more enjoyable! Offer them beverages, candy and snacks, but NOOOooooo the hotel management had to get all upset at our “antics”. Luckily we managed to entertain ourselves by throwing soda cans off the balcony into the hotel pool. To be fair, we truly thought it would be a fun way to have soda’s waiting for us after we brilliantly decided to go JUMP IN THE GODDAMN OCEAN IN NOVEMBER. (Warning: the following conversation is a reenactment as I imagine it) 

“Matt! You ready?” you asked, bouncing on your bare feet in the freezing wet sand. 

“...No! But let's do this..” I had a faux dejected look on my face trying to make this seem like it was all your idea. Really I probably had just as much to do with this stupid decision.  

We took off our shirts, threw down our towels and sprinted like the morons we were into the salty brown goodness that is the coastal bend.  

“SHIT! OH FUCK! THIS IS COLD!” you bellowed hitting the water but pushing out further. 

“SSsssHhhiiiitttttt!” I yelled breaking the surface after foolishly diving into the briney, oily, frigid water. 

“Why!? Why are we doing this?” 

“I don’t know! We wanted to go swimming!” 

“This was a bad idea!” 

“A very bad idea!” 

“...Wanna get out?” 

“...In a minute…” 

The outdoor hot tub we thought would be waiting for us was broken and the sodas (Big Red’s I think) had exploded upon impact with the pool. So the two of us shitheads were sitting in a freezing tub, with a freezing wind, shivering our asses off next to a pool with a spreading red stain.  

God, I loved it. 

There were also so major moments where I don’t know what I would have done without you being there. I wanted to go into the story about fourth of July, but I, as you well know, can’t remember, lol. Instead what comes to mind is a specific late night trip to Shibby.  

Now, one of the perks of being older was the inflated head I would slightly get whenever I could lord my superior age over you. On those occasions I could feel like a master teaching the secrets of the universe to his young apprentice. One of those occasions was when I learned to drive and got my car first. Betty, that lovable, decrepit piece-of-shit car we cherished so dearly. Best yet, she was a stick shift! I spent hours and days with friends, especially you, teaching the finer points of a standard motor. Even when her starter died and we had to push her down a hill to jump the engine, the basics of how to drive were passed on from friend to friend. Or in my ballooned ego state, the older brother type, wiser and more experienced taking care of his hapless sibling. “Don’t worry,” my actions would scream silently in my head, “I’ll show you how this works. I’ll take care of you.” 

On a fateful night out to Shibby however we weren’t in Betty, we were in my dad’s car, a black Mazda 6 also a standard. He was out of town and letting me use his car. We drove up to Bandera to try and use a cheap telescope to see some stars. As an added bonus we brought along my dad’s dog, Ali (as in Muhammad Ali). That damned hyper black lab ran around like crazy in the dark on the deserted roads while we sat on the roofs of the picnic areas staring longingly at the milkyway, waxing on about the universe and nothing. Sadly, the road wasn’t as deserted as we thought and Ali jumped in front of the only other car we had seen that night….  

…shit... 

I don’t know what I would have done without you that night. If it hadn’t have been for you, we never would’ve gotten out of there. You drove us back to town and consoled me. You called my mom, some emergency vet numbers, and talked to the guy who was racked with guilt and sorrow. But this story is more than just you driving us back in a car you hadn’t yet ever driven. It was about you being there with me, for me. Stepping in to help me when I completely fell apart at the sight of Ali laying motionless on the road. You were my crutch, my support, my older brother. I didn’t even have to think about it, I gave up helping myself and relied on you. And you were there, ready to give everything you could to ease my pain. If I haven’t said it enough, and I probably never can, thank you, Jay. Thank you for being the rock solid support I needed, for handling everything I couldn’t, for being there, for being you.  

Thank you. 

There are of course plenty more stories I could get into. My birthday with dead baby (doll) parts. Driving like maniacs along any number of highways. Fire pits, playing drums, walking to places. That fun trip to visit Dan in Washington which was amazing and also terrible in that we both almost wanted to murder each other afterwards. Me leaving to go to Corpus for college was rough patch as well. I didn’t want you guys to forget about me, but I couldn’t stay in town either. I had to get out. And everyone else came together in my absence. Sometimes the thought of all you guys hanging out without me drove me insane with jealousy! But now, with our large group of extended family members I’m glad everything happened when and how it did. The shit we did made us who we are, and more importantly, what we mean to each other.  

I’d like to end my stories, ramblings and tales now by summing up what I’m thinking as neatly as I can. Jay, with a friend like you I will know all the values, joys and rewards life has to offer. I got to witness a person evolve alongside me from a clueless boy to a well rounded, successful and brilliant man. I see all we’ve been through together from two sets of eyes, yours and mine, learning from both our mistakes and cheering our triumphs. There is no other person I know of who has handled all that life has to offer with such a great sense of humor, keen insight and humble acceptance. You will be an unquestionably amazing father, and a terrific husband. Jane,  Lauren, and now Nikki, are forever my family along with the most badass of friends. The Jay and Matt show have many more adventures ahead of them. It doesn’t matter how far away we are, or how infrequently we talk. That stuff doesn’t matter in the end. What matters is that you are my friend, my brother, my partner in crime. You sir, are the shit.