Junior

The Ls moved into the ARAMCO trailer park a year after we did. One night desperate for a baby sitter Mr. and Mrs. L asked my then 13 year old sister to please watch their three kids. Their oldest girl N was in the grade below me, Junior was 4 years younger, and there was the baby S. I remember this night well because my sister told N, Junior, and me to go play in my room. She was reading a copy of Seventeen watching S as she cried then slept on our living room floor. At the end of the night my sister gave me 10 Riyals, she said it was my share of the babysitting gig.

Over the years, our families became friends. We often had dinner parties at each others houses. The kids and I would play games as the parents talked. Sometimes N and I would ride our bikes together. She was on the swim team with me. Even though she was a year younger she was either in the advanced lane or the same lane as me. Actually all the Ls swam. When I think about Junior, my first image is of him in the pool at meet against the Raytheon Rays. He was swimming the 200 free, a long race for any person. With every stroke, it appeared he was swallowing water. As much as everyone on the team wanted to jump in and save him, he proved to us all he needed no saving as he finally touched the wall.

But soon I went to boarding school and lost all contact with the Ls. My parents kept in touch with them for a while. S, the baby, went to University of Houston and often spent a weekend at my parent's house to get away from dorm life. The Ls had moved to Vancouver, and after a few unanswered Christmas cards, our ties unravelled.

About a year and half ago, I got an email from Junior. I wish I had saved it, but it went something to this effect. "Is this the same Evil Twin #1 that used to live in Yanbu? If it is, this is F, I guess you might remember me as Junior. I hope you do not think this email is strange. The other day I was eating shrimp chips, and I thought of you. So I googled you, and found you at school. My dad passed away two months ago. It has got me thinking a lot about the past and all the important people in my life. Here is the update on our family: N is .... Yours truly, F Jr."

Then in October of this year, I received this email from him,"ET#1, My ship just had another port visit added to our sched...BOSTON! Tentatively, it's sched for 7-10 Dec. Are you going to be around?F Jr." (He is a Lieutenant in the Royal Canadian Navy.)

We met for brunch at Harvard Square on Saturday. I circled the Out of Town News store to find him. A young man in a tan suede jacket and stylish scarf yelled "ET#1!" We hugged. His once spiky hair was now completely shaved off, but the scar above his eye that he got when N pushed him into the wall of the pool was still there.

We walked around Harvard Yard doing the standard Harvard tour: John Harvard Statue, Weidner, Annenberg Hall, Fogg Art museum, and the Law School better known as the exterior shots for "Legally Blonde."

His life as an officer was so adult. I had a hard time listening because in my mind I kept flashing back to that little kid followed N and me everywhere. His family had grown up, my family had grown up. It was a lot of catching up to do. I kept calling him Junior and then apologizing. I realized over the years that he was called F. But then he said "ET#1, you might be one of the only people in the world that can call me Junior, legitimately. And I don't mind anymore. I kind of like it. It reminds me of Dad."

When we sat for lunch, Junior took out his computer and shared all his picture. Pictures of his girlfriend, pictures of his home, pictures of his dog, pictures of his travels to Tibet, Australia, and Europe. Lunch was spent reminiscing. Junior confessed that he and his baby sister S wished I was their sister. Mainly, because I was the only one they knew who would boss N. Funny how the 8 year old mind works. I had no confessions, but I gave him some dirt on his older sister in case he ever needed it. Like, I gave N her first cigarette. Well, maybe that really was not dirt on her but it was the best I could do.

Because he had limited time on shore, after two and a half hours of talking he needed to do some Christmas shopping. I walked to him to the bus stop. We hugged. I hope it is not another 20 years before I see him again.