It's one of the first things that struck me when I met him. You know, after noticing the usual things about him, like how he doesn't talk like other people and all of his other shortcomings. Back then, I was still a young misfit trying to survive college, and my attraction to him was mostly that he was the first person who hadn't run away screaming. Okay, that's an exaggeration, but not much of one. But he wasn't as put off by me as everyone else. I'm sure that, at the time, he barely knew I was even there. But I was so desperate for a friend that I figured, okay, so he's a mess inside and out, but he's probably the best chance I have.

I don't know how Reg even got accepted into college. It soon became clear that he was blatantly missing a lot of the basic skills he needed. I mean a lot of them. I'd thought I wasn't cut out for the college scene; Reg made me feel like frigging Superman. I figured he'd probably flunk out and spend the rest of his life in a daze, clinging to the edge of survival. And I guess this shows how screwed up I am; I decided to go down with him. After all, I'd spent my entire life so far in the very bottom layers of society, and I obviously was never going to fit into 'normal' society. I was disturbed by the whole prospect, but in a way it was comfortable. I really could envision Reg and me camping out in homeless shelters and begging for spare change.

But it didn't work like that, and it was because of Reg's luck. The guy couldn't focus on spoken words, but he attended every lecture and passed in all his homework. As I started spending more time with him, I noticed certain advantages he had - whatever he did do, he did impeccably, and I guess a lot of his professors gave him allowances for his shortcomings. Several of them gave him copies of their notes after lectures. It was like this weird routine - Reg wouls sit through the entire lecture, not absorb a word, and then as we were leaving, he'd swing by the front of the room and the prof would casually hand him a stack of notes.

He had an advisor, and I went with him to see her several times. She was a nice, somewhat timid woman who obviously didn't know a damn thing about Reg, but she did all his groundwork for him and didn't mind a bit that he didn't contribute any feedback. I wish my advisor had been more understanding. I used to fight with mine. She even told me once to go back to high school until I grew up. People were always saying stuff like that to me. Never to Reg, though. People never paid much attention to him; they certainly didn't seem to outright like him; but everywhere he went, people cut him breaks. Like at the school store - I'd get into a shouting match with the cashier every time I went in there, but Reg would just point at the item he wanted, and voila, purchase made.

Things changed as our friendship developed. We started doing everything together... we needed to, because he couldn't do so many things by himself. Like lunch, for instance. Don't ask me why he didn't starve to death before I met him; I have no idea. I began to speak for him, but at the same time I was learning to speak less. When I found myself getting to the point where I was really getting on the other person's nerves, I learned to turn to Reg and start talking to him. It worked like a charm. I can't say people liked me after that, but their attitudes toward me improved a lot. My attitude toward myself improved too. Reg became my self-confidence - if he were with me, I knew I could succeed at anything. Even social interactions.

He graduated with an impressive GPA and went on to get his Master's. I'm sure I helped him get through it in a lot of ways. But he helped me too. I'm sure I never would have made it through even two years without him. He's responsible for the jobs we got, too. Mr. Versiel hired Reg first; I was just a necessary inconvenience. I still can't figure out how or why, except that Reg has that luck thing going for him. In eleven years, I've watched him avoid a thousand accidental deaths or other sorts of tragedies. How does he not starve? How can he work for 20 hours straight and then do welding without hurting himself? How can he do precision work on a table saw all day and then forget to put on his jacket before going out in the rain? How can he take apart and reassemble a television set, and then not comprehend the picture that appears when he turns it on?

And why do the same people who are creeped out by him bend over backwards to give him what he needs? He can't ask for help, but he doesn't need to; everything just gets thrown in his lap. Why can't people do that for me? I can hold a normal conversation and everything. Why don't I ever get a break?

I think Reg is blessed and I'm cursed. Yeah, I know those terms have religious connotations, but that's not how I mean them. I just mean that, whatever it is, Reg has something extra going for him. And I have something extra going against me. That's not really a major factor in our relationship; it's just the way it is. I guess I should be grateful. Without Reg's good luck, all we'd have is my bad luck.