Semi-surprised

Thursday 8/20/26

My freshman year of college at BC, there was this kid in my hall named Francois. He wasn't French in any obvious way. He was just some kid with a very French sounding name from New York I believe it was.

Anyway, he was a big drinker. Right from the start, before the other freshmen had figured out how that all worked on campus and its environs. He knew where to get alcohol from the moment he arrived.

During that first weekend, he popped off to another kid who was on the football team, also a freshman. The football player didn't just lay Francois out. He pretty much deformed his face for the rest of his college years. I can't speak to any time after that. But it was as if the lower part of his face went in one direction and the upper part in the other. It gave him a Quasimodo element; facially, I mean, but the top half of him did seem to follow suit. The overall presentation became that of a slouchy, rounded guy. We hadn't known him long, but it changed fast.

I don't think the football player ever got on the field. And it wasn't like BC had good teams after that freshman year of ours, for which he was probably redshirted. I only knew his name because he was the kid who made Francois's face like that. I suppose he could have been kicked off the team before he graduated, but the breaking of Francois's face was treated as essentially a non-issue.

I didn't know him prior to our arrival at BC, but if anything, Francois seemed to drink more post-beatdown than you'd expect even of a guy who practically showed up to school drunk, and maybe had. He was always the first one to be in the know--as though people far away from the likes of our dormitory who tipped him off--about a bar that would serve the under-aged. Come midday Friday, he'd be out somewhere in Allston at one of these establishments.

Sometimes when I'm on the B Line on Comm Ave., I'll note them as we go past, or the spots they were at, because those business have changed over several times. I won't even necessarily recall the names, only that such and such a building was home to one of this guy's Friday afternoon watering holes. I can't imagine I'd think about them otherwise.

Despite the incident with his face from that opening weekend of his college career, Francois would get drunk throughout our freshman year and try to fight lots of people. He hadn't been dissuaded by that early experience. Alcohol was like lighting a match to a fuse with this guy. You'd want to keep your distance.

I recall one time, in his room, when he challenged someone to a fight, to be held right there; no, "Let's step outside." For whatever reason, he wanted this contest--which I believe was supposed to last (Francois was quite specific about this at the time) until someone couldn't get up or was dead. The more he was urged to relax, the more he wanted this fight to happen. He actually began moving things in the room towards the walls, to create a bigger...well, I guess you could say, arena.

He was burly to begin with, and put on weight, which amplified the multi-directional aspect of his face. After that year, I'd see him around on campus. Stocky, heavy of tread, but somehow furtive at the same time. We didn't say hi or anything. But you couldn't miss that face. And, also, you wanted to have a look, to see if it remained multi-directional.

I found myself thinking about him today. I'd be semi-surprised if he's still alive. Having said that, I could also see him being rich and barely, if at all, working.