2 weeks ago

The elevator stopped on the 12th floor. A man entered. I hadn’t seen him in the building before. Yet there was something familiar about him.

He was busy talking on his cell phone. “Jamukha Hazar,” I heard him say. “J-A-M-U-K-H-A,” he spelled it out sounding frustrated. Poor guy, I shook my head and rolled my eyes, Must suck to have a name like that. Imagine having to spell it out to every service provider. “Jamukha,” I mubled softly to myself. He was still busy talking on the phone. “Jumukha Hazar,” it rolled off my tongue with unexpected familiarity. “Jamukha Hazar,” as I said it one more time, my eyes widened.

“Oh my gosh! You’re Jammy,” I blurted out as the elevator opened on the lobby level.

The man, who had just finished his cellphone conversation, stared at me. “Jammy, don’t you remember me?” I looked him straight in the eye until I saw the familiar twinkle.

“Holy cow! Timmy, is that you?” His face lit up. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

I barely managed to nod, before he pulled me into a rib cracking hug. “How? Where? What?” He took a deep breath.

Jamukha and I were neighbors, classmates, and best friends until the age of eight, when his father was offered a permanent position at Berkeley, and his family moved to the Bay Area.

“Do you live in this building, Jammy?” I asked, baffled that I hadn't seen him before.

“Moved in last night,” he explained. “Apple transferred me to their San Diego office with a promotion. What about you? Do you live here?”

“Yeah, I’ve been here for the last three years. I work with Deloitte. Why don’t you come over for dinner? It would be great to catch up after all these years. My wife Sarah and I are in apartment 1701.”

‘Great. I’ll bring Miriam.” Jammy nodded.

“Your dog?” I asked.

“My wife, Dumb-ass,” Jammy hissed.

“See you soon, Butt-face.” I sniggered. “Do you remember ...” I extended my hand, tentatively. It had been twenty years.

“Of course,” Jammy smiled, and we did our secret handshake.

Later that evening ...

“Gosh it’s a small world. I was devastated when we had to move. I mean we were spit brothers, after all.” Jammy laughed before taking a swig of cold beer.

“Spit brothers?” Miriam raised her eyebrow.

“Sounds disgusting.” Sarah wrinkled her nose.

“Well you see, Jammy here, really is Jamukha. Have you ever heard the name before?” I asked Sarah. She shook her head, as she gnawed on a baby carrot.

“Jamukha was Genghis Khan’s best friend, blood brother and later, mortal enemy. Genghis Khan eventually executed him.” I began.

“How gruesome!” Sarah remarked.

“I know,” Jammy rolled his eyes. “No idea what possessed my parents to name me so. But because of my name, as a child, I was obsessed with the Mongols. When I met Timmy, I knew he had to be my best friend.”

“Really, why?” Miriam asked nibbling on a slice of cheesy bread.

“Because I figured Timmy was about as close an American name would get to Temüjin.” Jammy sniggered, munching on a celery stick.

“Temüjin?” Sarah asked.

“That was Genghis Khan’s given name,” Miriam explained.

“Anywho, we got engrossed in playing these Mongol characters and thought it would be fun to be blood brothers, you know cutting our palms, mixing our blood, chanting an oath etc,” I continued helping myself to a second bottle of beer.

“Yeew!” Sarah complained.

“I know, boys, right?” Miriam rolled her eyes.

“So, we asked Tim’s mother, Mrs. Marston I used to call her, for a knife. When we explained why we wanted it, well, she looked a lot like you do Sarah.” Jammy laughed, as Sarah looked more appalled than ever.

“Mum was on to us, so we couldn’t be blood brothers. Not to be deterred, we substituted spit for blood and went through with our ritual. To be frank, I was relieved we could blame it on on Mum. I didn’t want to admit it then, but I was terrified of cutting myself deliberately.” I grimaced.

“Me too, Bro,” Jammy winked. “That’s the story of how we came to be spit brothers. But we vowed never ever to betray the other, no matter what, so our friendship wouldn’t end like Genghis and Jamukha.”

“So then what happened? How did you lose touch?” Miriam asked.

“Long distance relationships are hard Miriam. Very hard.” Timmy sighed dramatically.

“Oh very funny,” Miriam snorted.

“We were just ten, when my dad got an awesome offer from Caltech, so he left U-Dub and we moved from Seattle to Pasadena. Timmy’s dad worked for Microsoft, so he remained in Seattle. In those days, before Snapchat and Facebook, it was difficult for blood brothers to keep in touch.” Jammy explained.

“Spit brothers, you mean,” Sarah corrected. “I’m going to go check on dinner.”

“Let me help,” Miriam offered, following Sarah to the kitchen.

“You know, Jammy, I did feel betrayed. You just up and left so suddenly. I mean, our families were supposed to take a road trip together the next summer, remember?”

“Oh yeah, big hole!” Jammy nodded.

“Did you ever go?”

“No, did you?”

“Nope!.”

“Then let’s do it. How about next weekend? Its a long weekend for President’s Day.”

“Excuse me, what are you boys talking about?” Miriam interrupted bringing the salad from the kitchen and placing it on the dining table.

“The Grand Canyon!” Jammy and Timmy chorused. “We’re thinking of taking a long overdue road trip.”

“Like two decades overdue.” Sarah snorted, carefully setting the dish full of hot roast beef down on a large coaster. “Fine, Miriam and I can use the time to get to know each other and gossip about you.”

“Good plan!” Miriam nodded, returning from the kitchen with the condiments, while Sarah went back to take out the garlic bread from the oven.

Back to the present

“Mr. Marston, Mr, Marston,” I heard them call. The voices sounded like they were coming from a million miles away, or perhaps a million years ago. I could hear the sirens. Good, help was here. I felt a prick, and then my senses began to clear.

The paramedics had strapped Jammy onto a stretcher and were taking him into an ambulance. Oh god, there was a lot of blood. I mean a lot. I almost fainted again, but one of the paramedics shook me.

“Mr. Marston. Your friend has lost a lot of blood. He needs an immediate transfusion to survive. I doubt he’ll make it to the nearest hospital without an immediate transfusion. Do you consent to giving your blood?” A young woman in an EMT uniform asked me.

“Mine?” I stared. “Am I fit?” My neck hurt like hell, when I tried to turn my head.

“Fit enough. You have a bump on your head, a few cuts and bruises and a broken clavicle, but nothing major. Your driver’s license says you are B negative, the same as him.” She tilted her head towards Jamukha, now almost through the doors of the ambulance. “It would save his life you know. No one else here is a a B negative.”

“Sure, I nodded.” They wasted no time in hooking me up as we raced towards the hospitals sirens blaring.

Soon after, they pumped me with sedatives and the world dissolved once again.

A few hours later

“Timmy, Timmy, oh thank goodness!” Tears poured down Sarah’s cheeks. She gripped my hand so hard it hurt.

“Hi, Honey. I’m fine.” I croaked. My throat was dry. “Don’t worry. How is Jammy?” I asked, pointing at the water jug. I noticed I had a few bandages and my arm was in a sling

“He is in surgery. But the doctors say he will be fine. He should be done soon.” Sarah poured me a glass of water. “What happened?”

“Sorry, Darling. We had such a great weekend, and we were just around seventy miles from home in the middle of nowhere. The visibility sucked and the truck came speeding out the the darkness on a cross road. My brain froze. I must have swerved, I don’t know. Jammy, he was bleeding so much. I almost killed him.”

“Don’t say that. He’ll be fine, Dear. The blood transfusion saved his life,” Sarah consoled.

Later that day

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” I gushed, relief washing all over me. Sarah had wheeled him into Jammy’s room the moment the doctor allowed visitors. “I’m so sorry. The truck was speeding and with the fog, I didn’t see it coming it time. I’m so sorry, man. I almost killed you.” Just like Temüjin, I couldn’t help thinking.

“Timmy, relax. I was there. It wasn’t your fault. There was nothing you could have done. Besides, Miriam says I’m fine.” He looked questioningly at her.

“Yes,” Miriam nodded, wiping her eyes. “Yes, you’re fine. Your surgery went well . You’ll have to wear the rib belt for a while and do physiotherapy for a month, but you’re fine.”

“I’m so sorry, Miriam,” I said, barely able to look at her. I still felt guilty. I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I mean the collision wasn’t my fault. The truck really had popped out of no where. But I could have reacted differently.

In the last couple of hours, while I had pretended to be asleep, I had given the matter considerable thought. My insides were squirming with guilt. I should have swerved right and gone off the road. If I had done that, since the truck crossed in front of us, the worst impact would have been on me. But I must have swerved left, towards the middle of the road causing Jammy to bear the brunt of the accident. I don’t remember making a calculated decision, but consciously or unconsciously, I had made the selfish one. I felt like crap.

“No, no. You have nothing to be sorry about. You saved his life.”

“You did! How?” Jammy asked.

“Not really,” I blushed, guilt eating away my insides, but I couldn’t summon the courage to voice my thoughts.

“You had lost too much blood by the time the paramedics arrived. Turns out you’re both B negative. He gave you blood on the way to the hospital.” Miriam explained. “He was the only person there who was a match. He saved your life.”

“Oh. Thanks Timmy.” Jammy smiled. “I had no idea we shared the same uncommon blood group. I guess we really are blood brothers now.” He laughed.

I smiled. I couldn’t change what I had done and revealing my thoughts wouldn’t do anyone any good. “Yes, we’re indeed blood bothers now, Jammy.” I gave him a gentle one armed hug. I had been out of practice, but I silently vowed to get better at it, being a blood brother, I mean.