The Legend of Zelda games have always been a part of me as I grew up with them, as I’m sure many others can relate. I used to watch my brothers play them before I got to try myself, I read some of the Valiant comics in old magazines we bought from a second-hand store, and even carved my own “ocarina” of a piece of wood I one day found at school.
I have many fond memories associated with Zelda from my childhood even though I was mostly alone in my love and appreciation for the series. My friends didn’t play that many video games from what I can remember, or at least, they weren’t very vocal about it if they did. One had a horse-riding game for their computer, another owned a Final Fantasy game, and a third friend had played Ocarina of Time when she was younger. My third friend and I didn’t discuss it too much from what I can recall, but at least she knew who that green fellow with pointy ears was when I drew him in my notebooks. But I would make good friends with a boy in my class when I got a little bit older. His name was Victor and to this day, I still think about how much fun we used to have together.
I can’t remember how exactly we met, but it must have been in some fun and not-so-strict class or through our mutual interest in the Zelda games. Victor was energetic, always came up with new ideas, and spoke with words I hadn’t learned yet. We would make our own school paper when classes were over for the day, naming it after our school and adding the word “gazette” to make it sound fancier and more important than what it was. I suppose you could say that we dreamed big; our initial idea was to make several copies and spread them out for students to read but we only made one. Victor did most of the writing, I drew accompanying pictures, and we made a crossword together — and hung it up on the wall in the after school common room. I don’t think anyone read it, but it didn’t matter much.
Victor stood out among my childhood friends. Not only because he was the first boy I would consider to be a good friend — a real friend, one that wouldn’t make fun of me like the other boys in my class — but because he was the first and only person I could enthusiastically talk about Zelda with in real life except for my brothers. He was just as interested in Zelda and knew just as much as I did, too. We were too old to play in imaginary fantasy worlds and pretend to be Link and Zelda, but I’m sure we would’ve if we had met and become friends a few years earlier.
When we weren’t busy working on our school paper or standing behind each other to create Hindu gods with our shadows in the schoolyard during breaks, we would discuss Zelda. I remember that we talked about Twilight Princess in particular because, at the time, it was the latest release in the series. Victor had the game for his GameCube and was kind enough to not spoil anything for me (who didn’t own the game yet), but he would tell me how great it looked and kept asking me when I’d play it too. I told him I didn’t know because it was always my brothers who bought the video games and I trusted them to find a good deal someday. But I could tell he was impatient, and I was too because I wanted to see what he had seen and talk about the game with him.
One of my strongest memories of Victor was when I played him an orchestrated Zelda medley on my cell phone for him. He absolutely loved it, and so did I, and he begged me to send it to him. This was in the early 2000s and using one’s phone for anything else than making calls, send texts, and occasionally playing Snake was foreign to me — I never even dared to press on the internet browser icon, terrified that a fat bill would land in my parents’ hands if I did. Victor told me that using the internet wasn’t necessary and that I could send him the song file through something called Bluetooth, but I remained skeptical. Poor Victor kept begging me for weeks and every time I’d tell him no. Maybe that was when my stubbornness started to awaken in me.
But one day, I gave in and decided to trust his words. “My parents will get angry if it costs money,” I warned him, but Victor ensured me that it wouldn’t cost a dime and would be over in a few minutes. So we brought up our phones, he helped me send the file and I was happy to learn how simple it was. But Victor was definitely the happiest of the two of us.
Sadly, our friendship didn’t last very long. Victor would do what so many of my other friends did by the end of fifth grade: He would switch schools and I would end up alone, with my English teacher being the only one left to hang out with during lunch breaks. I was hoping I’d see him again when we’d start seventh grade because then it would be time for me to change schools too. But I never saw him in the corridors of my new school and by the time I began high school, I gave up hope on ever seeing him again.
For whatever reason, we never thought of exchanging phone numbers or email addresses and I haven’t talked with him since that last school day when we had to act as hosts for the closing ceremony in front of the entire school. So much was going on that day, I don’t think I realized it would be the last time I’d see him, and perhaps he didn’t think of it either because I can’t remember if we ever said goodbye. Or maybe he simply couldn’t find me among the crowds of pupils and their siblings and parents.
Even though I never saw Victor again, I’m very glad that I had the chance to meet him and make some happy memories to think back on today, the International Day of Friendship. I don’t think I’d recognize him if we would somehow meet again, and he might not even remember me too well, but I still think it would be nice to have an awkward conversation and say hello. I wonder if things would’ve been different if he had stayed in my school, so I could have told him sometime in May the following year that I’d buy Twilight Princess for my brothers and would soon get to play it as well. But I suppose that’s a part of life: Friends come and go, and some will enter your life and leave a strong impression behind them when they leave.
Victor was in my life for a short period and left as the only true Zelda friend I ever had, and even though I would’ve loved to have him as a friend for longer, I’m still grateful to have met him. If this text would somehow show up on your screen, Victor, I’d like to say one thing: Thank you.
