🧭 Monsters, Memory, and the Men Who Stay
Reflecting on the Friendship Between Jim Garraty and Mark Prieto in Reunion: Coda
Some friendships aren’t just part of the story—they’re the spine that holds it together. In Reunion: Coda, Jim Garraty and Mark Prieto’s bond spans adolescence and adulthood, joy and heartbreak. It’s not loud. It’s not perfect. But it’s real—laced with humor, memory, and quiet heroism.
🍕 From Cobra Country to Arbetter’s: Where It All Begins
Their connection first blooms in the clamor of the South Miami High cafeteria, where soggy pizza and banter set the emotional tone:
“Hey,” he said. “Sorry I’m late. I had to go to the bathroom.”
“No problem,” I said. “I was just starting to worry about you.”
Jim’s internal world is shaped by Mark’s presence; even a late lunch feels incomplete without his friend at the table.
✉️ The Keeper of Secrets
Years later, Jim reflects on a pivotal moment—a kiss that never led where he hoped. Only Mark knows the full story:
“Mark walked with me that day, our last day of high school. He didn’t say much. He just walked with me, like a true friend.”
And when Jim’s voice falters, Mark fills in the silence—not with platitudes, but with presence.
“May the Force be with you,” Mark said, making his best Han Solo impression. I laughed and flipped him the bird over my shoulder.”
A parting joke wrapped in love, a goodbye that carries more emotional weight than any lecture or advice.
🍻 First Beers and First Tears
In one of the most affecting scenes, Jim sits in his room—reeling from an encounter that churns memory and regret. Mark shows up with Heinekens:
“Jim,” he said softly, “it’s okay. Even if you didn’t say it… she knows, man. She knows.”
The beer, the jokes, the quiet hug—it’s everything masculinity rarely allows in fiction: vulnerability met with gentle strength.
📱 Long-Distance Loyalty
Years later, Jim’s call from a quiet New York apartment reveals how unchanged their rhythm is. Their voices still fall into the same cadence, now shaped by life, loss, and new beginnings:
“She’s got this way about her, Mark. It’s like she sees right through the crap and finds the good.”
Mark lets out a low whistle. “Sounds like you’ve got it bad, Jim.”
No judgment, no bravado. Just a man making sure his friend isn’t rushing headfirst into heartbreak.
🌭 The Monster and the Mosaic
In the final scenes, they gather at Arbetter’s—a greasy, glorious homage to their teenage years. Maddie joins the circle, placing an order for the infamous “Monster,” a footlong hot dog once feared and revered:
“Back in high school, Jim and I made a bet—one of us would try the Monster before we hit forty. Spoiler alert: neither of us had the guts.”
It’s a metaphor made of mustard and chili—youthful promises, unmet dares, and laughter that defies time.
Even a subtle moment at the counter says everything about Mark’s emotional fluency:
“A bit,” he admits. Then, with rare seriousness, he adds, “But Marty’s dead, and Maddie isn’t. And she obviously likes you. Dunno why, though.”
It’s compassionate, grounding, and filled with earned intimacy.
Jim and Mark’s friendship is one of emotional ballast—it steadies the narrative just as Mark steadies Jim. As the Reunion Duology unfolds, their bond doesn’t just echo through the past—it helps navigate the future.
Have your own stories of friendships that shaped you? Share them with me—I’d love to hear what “Monsters” live in your memory.
A Certain Point of View, Too 
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