Sticks just moved out. I can’t say that I knew him that well but he was a cordial and decent guy who got along with everyone. He started moving his stuff at around 6 pm and just finished (3 am). He didn’t have to move his big stuff because we’re getting a new roommate in tomorrow who bought it.
It’s like the end of an era. He was the only original roommate left, who’d been here since the house was build, so now I’m the eldest of the house.
Even though I didn’t know him that well, he had a good presence and will be missed.
He handled all the logistical stuff of living, like talking to the neighbors and handling the landlords. He was a very private person in that typical midwest way where you don’t talk about yourself. He would stay up until 4-5 am in the morning. He was an excellent student and focused on school a lot, and would study by himself at night on campus. Now he’s moving out to Seattle to be with his fiance.
I’ll tell the story of their engagement. So, I came downstairs one night, and he had several shower curtains laid out on the kitchen table. He told me about his plan — he was going to tell his GF over Skype that one of his friends had gone to Seattle and he sent a present for her with him. She was to knock on his hotel door and retrieve it. But he was secretly going to be in that hotel room, and he needed a shower curtain that was the same beige color as his wall so she wouldn’t think that he was somewhere else. So she showed up to the hotel room, and surprise, there he was with a ring.
He had a kidney stone two days ago. Two millimeters, and it hurt like a bitch. He thought his appendix burst.
His mom came to our house three months ago. Bryant was due at home but didn’t show up and it had been several hours. His phone was off. She was really worried. We didn’t think he was in his room, but I went up to check his room anyway. There was no answer when I knocked, so I went in and looked around. He wasn’t there. I was afraid that I was going to open the door and his body would just be lying on the ground and I would just go, “FUCK” and call an ambulance while performing CPR. And the body would be cold, and I would just be like, “he’s cold, it’s over.” And his mom would just cry and cry and it would be really uncomfortable. Luckily, he was at his mom’s place, but sleeping quietly in his room and his phone ran out of batteries.
All he ever ate was fast food and TV dinners. Sometimes made himself a sandwich. He used to eat in the bathroom because I would find a bunch of crumbs on the drawer.
He was a thoroughly nice fellow and he’d given me more advice about pharmacy school (and good quality advice) than anyone else these past three years. It’s a small profession and I’m sure I’ll see him on the flip side.