Hermeas By: Ayelet H. Lushkov Wine and children speak the truth. (Anonymous) Who would have thought it? Father was wrong. I think he's actually quite happy about that particular mistake, though. Life sure would have been much more dull without it. I think it started when for the first time in my life, I brought home a friend that he didn't already know. Granted, dad was never a really big part of our domestic life, but he was a very important part of *my* life, and his approval meant a great deal to me, even if I did go out of my way to hide it. This time, however, something possessed me, and Father's obvious disapproval of my choice of friends didn't immediately change my view of them. I think that all in all, my father's disapproval was quite understandable at the time. All my friends before then had been sons of his colleagues, or mother's, which put them in an appropriate social status. And there I was, bringing home a complete social misfit- not quite what my parents expected after a month or so at one of Caprica City's finest schools. I think that was round and about the time my father's hair began turning white. I don't really think my father had a chance in this case, though. Mother put her foot down quite firmly that night, declaring that nothing will keep her son-me- from making new friends, especially his father's swollen ego. I know, because we were eavesdropping behind the kitchen door. What can I say? He was bad influence since Day 1. Well, after that, dad didn't really have much choice. He grumbled about it, naturally, and made a point out of letting me know exactly how he felt about the whole thing, but made sure I knew I had the final say in the matter. What else could he have done? I wouldn't cross mom if I were you, and nobody knew it better than dad. Well, since I *was* given a choice, I grabbed onto it with both hands, and that was it. It took a while to get my family around, with the exception of mother, of course, who took to my new buddy almost instantly. Camaraderie in arms, I suppose. But eventually, it was quite clear that I, the pride and joy of the family, was best friends with a rascally orphan of war. In a way, you could say that it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Now that I've given it some thought, I suppose I should have pressed that 'orphan of war' issue a bit harder. My father *is* a solider, and soldiers tend to take war orphans quite personally. We tend to think they're our fault, so we go out of our way to do anything they damn well please. I suppose it would have cost dad a few more restless nights, but it would have gotten our friendship off to a much smoother start. In all reality, though, we didn't even notice my father's discontent until he called me up to his den and told it right to my face. We were at that age when we couldn't see past out own noses, and we were having quite a bit of fun, too. I guess we really haven't changed all that much, have we? No, I think we did change, just a little bit. We're taller, for one. I outrank him now, which I'm sure costs him his health sometimes, and I'm settled down. If you can call what I did before bachelorhood, that is. I have a son, a constant reminder of the woman I loved and died in my arms, and now, I also have a new lady in my life. She's making life seem a bit sunnier in our murky existence, and that's all I'm going to say. He, of course, is a *completely* different story. A whole lot of them, actually. What really astounds me about him, is how can a man who is so down right pessimistic about the world as he is, maintain such a perfect happy-go-lucky attitude constantly. Maybe he thinks he has nothing to lose. Or maybe he's just schizophrenic. I'll have to look into that. Most likely, it's a fatal combination of both. That, and an impulsive willingness to risk somebody else's paycheck, is what makes my best friend in the whole wide world, well, himself. All you have to do from here is simply throw in some slick talk, the most innocent pair of eyes in the universe, absolutely no sense of discipline, and most important, lots and lots of loyalty, and there you have it. Oh, and I forget, a complete unawareness of the words "impossible", "caution", and "shut up". I'm the one who usually supplies the paycheck to his gambling escapades, so I ought to know. You know, to this very day, when the common notion is that we're joined at the hip, I can't put my finger on what it was that got me to come up to the new kid in class and say hello. That was really all it took, one small word, and a friendship that will rock worlds was off and rolling. I was fairly new myself, I admit, so maybe I was more aware of first-day-fidgets, but I'm not completely sure. When you look back on something, you always recognize a thousand little marks that would have told you what you were looking for. When things actually happen, you're too busy doing them, to actually pay attention to the signs. Today I can tell you all about how nervous we both were on that first day of the school yahren, and how thrilled we both were to find a new friend, and so on and on and on. But, you see, that's the result of yahrens and yahrens of long conversations, usually over a tankard of ambrosia, and it's always easier when you know someone as well as I know him. But, on that fatal day, I was a shy boy, who only joined the school at the end of the previous yahren, and so, hadn't made too many friends, and he, he was the new kid, and to top that, he was also an orphan, from some unknown community in the god-forgotten parts of Caprica. No cash, no class, no connections. Children are very cruel sometimes, I've suffered enough of their not-so-friendly banter to know, and I was a part of the well-to-dos. So, needless to say, I was sitting alone, he was sitting alone, it was recess time, and we were both kinda gloomy about being there in the first place. So, after what seemed like forever, I plucked up the courage to go up, and say hello. Now, you have to understand one thing. He might have been an orphan, new and alone, but he, strangely enough, either didn't care, or didn't notice. He wasn't one of those wide-eyed, terrified orphans the media is so fond of showing. He actually looked down on *us*, or so we thought. So, I walked over, plumped down on the bench beside him, and not looking anywhere in particular said, "Hello". He looked at me, straight in the eyes, and after a while, returned my greeting. And we just sat there and shut up until the teacher called us back in. That was the one and only time in my life I've ever seen him voluntarily keep quiet. Yahrens later he told me that he was trying to decide whether to bolt or pray that the ground to swallow him alive. The ground didn't co-operate, and there really was nowhere to run, so I guess he had no choice. The next day, we actually started talking, and took to each other within the first sentence. I still have no idea what possessed me, but a week later, I found that I didn't really want to break that particular friendship, and that I'd probably do anything for my new friend. So, a month passed, and I introduced him to my parents. And that was when my parents discovered that orphanage supervisors look at the orphans they're in charge of as their own. You see, if you're going to summon the guilty parties' parents to the principal's office, you might as well summon both sets of parents as the same time. That way, the little delinquents- us- didn't have time to set their stories straight. That was also the part of my life when I learned that a pair of innocent blue eyes and a heart-wrenching past can get you pretty much out of everything. There was nothing I could do about my past, which was quite happy, despite a few faults, but I could do a lot about my innocent expression. I was never used to lying, or decorating the truth, until he burst into my life, and I started following his lead. You can't really be very hard on a war orphan and a son of a great commander when they're standing before you with the most innocent expression on their faces, can you? Our main defense through the yahrens, from primary school to the Academy, was "We have to prove ourselves." There's not much of a difference between orphans and people like me in that case. He had to defeat the odds, I had to defeat the eternal curse of nepotism. I think we pushed each other up that ladder from time to time. Remember what I said before? About soldiers taking war orphans personally? In some peculiar way, that might be the key to this relationship. I'd do anything for him, and he knows it. Granted, the feeling is mutual, but I can only get in so much trouble all by myself. That never stopped him, though. He could, and very often did, get in trouble within the first three heartbeats of opening his eyes. Guess who was right there at his side to get the blunt of the backfire. Recently, I think that has changed, a bit. After my wife died, I became more or less suicidal. I wasn't going to kill myself, I was just going to be stupid enough to let others do it for me. And guess who was right there beside me to make sure nobody got the wrong ideas about terminating me. Which just goes to show, that he'd do anything for me, too. That's a rather comforting thought, actually. That's what we're really about. We're there for each other, and we know it just as surely as we know we're alive. We've divided life in halves, and each took care of his own part. He deals with specifics, I deal with the generalities. He brings the street-wisdom, and I bring the diplomacy and tactfulness. I call the shots, he makes sure I get what I want. Together we're as good as it gets, even if we did cause the high command to gulp down a few more night cups than was really good for them. Yes, I really believe that this is what it's about. Being there for each other. Not asking questions, not making conditions, just being there when we need each other. Not being afraid to let the other take over, no matter how crazy things are. To know, that despite of everything, no matter how life turns against you, there'll always be that one person who'd believe in you, and accept you for just who you are, regardless of all the added titles and fanfare. Knowing that no matter how badly I screw up, there'll always be that one man, who'll, if need be, bully everyone else into giving me a second change, and a third and a forth, as many as it takes until I got it right. Someone who'd give his life for me in a single heartbeat. That's a big responsibility, but a very comforting one. One that I can always fall back on, because it'll always be there. I think he'd come a full circle with that notion. From a kid whose motto was "trust no-one", he'd grown into a man who has his full trust in someone else. Me. The Lords know, we worked very hard to forge that one. And it was worth it, I'm proud to say. I don't think my life would have been half as much fun, or half as full without his constant presence at my side. He once introduced me as his conscience, well, he got that right. It's a tough job, but somebody's gotta do it. But, if I'm his conscience, he's my barometer. He's the one who tells me when I take life too seriously. And I guess that's a full time job, too. It's a very special friendship we have there. I never had another like it, and probably never will. It's one of those once-in-a-lifetime things, and I can't find the right words to tell you, or him, just how happy I am for plucking up the courage to say hello that day. But I don't really need words with him anymore. He knows, and I know that. We're in a phase when we don't really need the words to know what the other is thinking. Maybe we were since that recess of silence on that first day. So there you have it. Go pester him about the rest of it, I've got work to do. Written July 1998. Note: Hermeas is the Homeric form of the Greek God Hermes. Hermes is the God of tricksters, travelers, roads, merchants, money, gambling, translation-everything that has to do with passage, surprises, change and good luck.