Thus began one of the happiest points in my life. I was on top of the world for what seemed to be the longest of time. I knew that the other shoe had to fall sometime, but I just wanted to enjoy it for the time being. Duke and I became something akin to brothers. We were inseparable. We spent many nights and days like the one at the café and even though he was going for a law degree and I a doctorate we didn't start getting into special classes until our junior years, and so it worked out that a lot of our basic classes, the ones that everyone has to take, threw us in together.
We were an odd pair, him the tall silent southern gentlemen and I the constantly rambling blonde twink. Many people assumed that we were together, which only served to make me wish for it to be just so. Still friendship is a start isn't it? Not all relationships are built off sex, at least that's what people have told me. I never really tried that method.
For all of his observing, I did some of my own. I came to learn the many traits and mannerisms that made Duke, Duke. He was quiet, extremely so, unless he was talking about something he felt passionate about in class or, in rare cases, at some of the parties that we attended together. I'd never met anyone that could carry on an intelligent debate inside a frat house with three glasses of scotch in their system before I'd met him.
He also tended to read non-fiction unless it was poetry, to which his favorite authors were W.H. Auden and A.E. Houseman. He never read any aloud but I would sometimes read some of the titles off of the shelves when I was bored. He loved history and that was about the only thing that I could get him to talk about with him actually saying more than two sentences. I learned more about the Second World War, the Civil War, presidential terms, Lyndon Johnson's weird quirks, and other random trivia than any man should ever have to be subjugated to. Weird part was, as anti-history as I am, it never bothered me. That's not to say that I was extremely interested in the subject matter, merely listening to him talk.
Toothpicks were a constant at pretty much all times and I rarely recall seeing him without one. I found out that his two favorite colours were blue and purple, and that Richard Nixon was his favorite President.
All of his political views were mostly conservative except for certain issues. For example he was for gay marriage, yet disagreed with the way the economy was being run under the current administration. He liked the idea of government healthcare, though felt as if we were going about it the wrong way. He called the extremes of both parties "straight jacket cases" and insisted that no side was completely right and that he was likely as wrong as everyone else.
He also had humility going for him. He didn't value his own self that much, telling me once that "I'm no catch, merely the fish that jumped in the boat." I had a hard time believing this and told him of such.
"Duke, you've got tons going for you and you don't even realize it. You're smart, kind, and not exactly ugly if I should happen to get a vote." While I started to worry that I was giving away to much information, he just blushed and tried to wave me off.
"You're just saying that because you haven't been on so much as a night out for coffee with anyone but my boring ass since we got here. I'm not that great, you're just developing Stockholm syndrome."
"So what, just because my love life has been slower than average doesn't mean that I'm blind or being corrupted by osmosis. You're better than you're giving yourself credit for Duke and I vow to make you see that."
"That'll happen right about the time that my ass grows wings and flies around the moon." It didn't seem as If I was going to convince him of his good qualities just yet.
Then came my concern with his social life, or rather lack thereof. The only person that he seemed to talk to on a regular basis that went beyond grunts and short answers was me. I never once heard him on the phone with family or friends from back home. I'd always meant to ask him about that, but still hadn't figured out a good way to do so. For some strange reason it seemed as if I was the only one he really talked to. Part of me felt sad that he was so closed off and, jealously, a bit happy that I had him to myself.
However, this is not to say that we were open books with each other. I had things that I didn't really want to talk about and, at times, you could see his eyes drift off somewhere else when you'd broach certain subjects such as family. That had to be a sore spot. He also wouldn't talk too much about what his home was like for him. The most he talked about Virginia was in relation to the beauty or the people and places that he missed.
"You know something Luke?"
"What's that Dukey?"
"I was just thinking of a little hot dog joint the next town over back in Virginia. Those crazy bastards would put soy sauce and mayonnaise on the hot dogs. Sounds like shit, I know, but they'd drive you crazy to have another."
Little things like that, but never anything that revealed anything more than a tourist's travel guide would and I don't recall ever once hearing him call the place home. It made me want to know why.
I'm what you'd call a people person. I like crowds and conversation is my forte. I usually keep a group of friends around me at all times, yet it wasn't until recently that I realized that I never had any close friends. The groups that I've been a part of were always based on convenience. No one ever went out of their way for the other. I started to pull away from that.
With Duke, it was as if things changed. For some reason I couldn't get enough of the man and for his part he seemed to at least tolerate my presence. That may not sound like a compliment, but Duke never showed affection that well. He'd smile or chuckle at a joke and would be cordial with all, but intimate with none. If he didn't like you he'd just ignore you. The most I ever saw him show any affection was with the occasional hug he would give me and to be fair I usually forced him into those. Every now and then he'd hug me as a greeting or farewell.
He couldn't hide his heart though. More than once I witnessed random acts of kindness perpetrated by him with the complete absence of any expectations of recompense or thanks. More than once I'd seen him drive a stranger back to their dorm after a few too many. More than once I'd seen him go out of his way to help others.
There was this one time when we came across a tall blonde and a short redhead with a large stack of boxes by the library's rear entrance.
"What would you say that they're doing Bambi?"
"I don't know. Should we ask them if they ne-..."
Before I could even ask if we should interfere he was crossing the street to see for himself.
"I guess that answers that." I said to myself.
With his usual soft baritone, he asked the ladies what they were doing. Turned out that the library had gotten a new shipment of books and Stacey, the blonde, and Becky, the redhead, were the only volunteer workers that the library had on staff at the moment. The boxes at the door were the only ones that they'd managed to drag to the door thus far.
"We'd be happy to give ya'll a hand."
An hour later we had the truck unloaded, the boxes in a storage room, and two enthusiastic college girls begging for our numbers.
"There aint no need ma'am, we were just heading for a coffee anyway and Luke and I don't mind a little extra work, do we Luke?"
