What We Take Away

Chapter 11 | Aram

October 4th, 2005

Watching Mal experience college for the first time is like watching a child deprived of sugar enter a candy store. Everything is different now that Mal's back. And for the first time in forever, college doesn't suck now that my old friend is here.

We spent the last two weeks catching up. Mal's been commuting and living back home in Copper Valley with his mom, Kanani, his sister Shiloh, and his stepfather Joe. I learned that he never intended to become an Army Ranger but began training in Fort Benning after the 9-11 terrorist attacks. Ranger operations changed drastically after President Bush declared war on al-Qaeda, and Mal along with his battalion were frequently deployed to conduct parachute assaults, special ops raids, and engage in direct combat. Mal told me about the time he and his fellow Rangers endured five harrowing days of gunfire from Iraqi forces, only for the ordeal to end when they captured the fighter dressed as a civilian giving away Ranger positions to his people. But that was not before a pregnant Iraqi woman feigning distress drove a car bomb towards their holding position, killing three of his friends.

As he recounted his tale with me, I could hardly believe that this was the same kid I grew up playing soccer with, the same guy who'd sneak into the girls' locker room with me to get a peek at Shannon Dwyer's breasts and share his dirty magazine stash with me. An all-star champion in football and wrestling with unnatural height and strength and copious amounts of discipline, Mal is the type of guy who could be primed for killing. But there's no doubt the past four years have left a permanent mark on him. And in a strange way, I feel somewhat responsible to help regain a sense of civilian life.

He was ecstatic when he learned I'd taken up bodybuilding. Before I knew it, Mal began tagging along with me to the Little Crow. At first, it felt like we were in high school again and dicking around in the gym. But the more time we spent together, the more I caught glimpses of evidence my old friend had changed.

It started with the inspirational comments he'd spew whenever we'd start lifting.

"All discipline seems painful in the moment," Mal grunted last Tuesday as he pressed the barbell up from his chest. "But it later yields fruit of righteousness. That's from the Book of Hebrews."

While on a run together last Friday, Mal urged me on by saying, "All runners run, but only one gets the prize! Run to get the prize, Aram!"

And then two days ago...

"Did you know that the apostle Paul wrote, 'your body is a temple of God' in one of his letters to the Corinthians? Isn't that amazing?" Mal pontificated while executing yet another pull-up. "The Bible is just so cool and relevant!"

I straighten from my last rep sweaty, sore, and effectively exercised. I finish replacing the weights I used and drag a towel across my face. It would be one thing if Mal's transformation is just limited to his motivating quotes. But I've noticed several more differences that are rather unexpected and bizarre.

Glancing up, I see Mal standing near the wall by the water fountains, talking with a tall girl with long, red hair and a nice figure. The jacket she wears indicates she is part of the CHU Women's Basketball team. Suddenly, Mal places a large hand on her shoulder and bows his head in prayer, not noticing for a second the wary stares from other people in the gym. The red-haired girl sniffles, stifling a sob.

He's been doing that a lot lately. He'll walk up to the most random strangers on campus and strike up a conversation. People never turn him away. Guys will immediately give him their respect, while girls blush and flutter at his shredded muscles and godlike height. Mal asks the most personal questions, and for some reason everyone is compelled to share their deepest fears and longings with him. Several minutes into his conversations, Mal will then lay his hands on them in prayer, supplicating for divine intervention or healing. When it's over, the girls will often cry and blabber to Mal that he's incredible, or that he told them exactly what they needed to hear.