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Something was happening, I could tell. It had been long since I had felt so much of this specific type of anticipation. I knew it would complicate the months of planning, subtle hints and choreographed plays I had spent so much time on. Making a choice is not my strong point. Historically I haven’t made the right choices when it came to these particular matters. Though, this situation is different. I didn’t want to be in this situation. I didn’t want any of this, the separate complicated mazes I quickly tried to get through in my head simultaneously. Some of them easier than others. I introduced her to this world, I don’t know why I was surprised by this particular outcome. It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought of it. I had pegged her to take a left and instead she took a u-turn. I’ve never seen someone turn around, you hear about how people ‘want to go back’ but you know they never can because they don’t know how. Yet, somehow, she seemed to do so effortlessly. She wasn’t going back though, she was returning, returning to get me and take me with her. I saw it happening. I think it’s because she didn’t want to go back, she wanted to move forward but needed help, my help, and I wasn’t surprised about that. She had proven to move steadily through anything life threw at her, kept her cool at all times, and naturally smiled always. But we both knew what the other could offer, and she needed me as much as I needed her.
I remember a year ago the day we talked for hours in the garden, sitting at the flimsy plastic table, the sun shining through our matching glass bottles. We shared the stories of our questionable pasts and it wasn’t a competition, which was nice. She had been through a completely different set of unfortunate events than me, but we both agreed that we weren’t to be defined by our pasts. It’s hard to know that there are plenty of people who will happily define themselves based on things they have experienced instead of choosing new experiences to help mold them. Almost as hard as it was to believe that she could break into a master lock faster than me. She also reacted differently than the common response I get to the stories of how I became the way I am, I don’t think she apologized once. What a relief. I remember her telling me she would teach me how to get into a briefcase lock with a hair pin, I said I didn’t use hair pins and she laughed and said, “Well fine, we’ll get a paper clip!” It was nice having this particular kind of friend. We had only known each other for a week or so at that time.
The last time we had seen each other was months ago, we laid in my bed at some early hour of the morning a few days before she left. We had been inseparable the week leading up to that night. “Can we just lay for a second?” she asked. “Flop away.” I said as my hands motioned. She fell horizontally across the foot of the bed, and I occupied the upper half, our legs hung over the side, feet just barely touching the floor. Despite the other people in the living room, everything seemed silent. “Just breathe.” she touched my arm, “It’s okay.” her hand returned to rest on her stomach. At the time, I had no idea what she was talking about. Everything was okay and I was breathing. It was an odd kind of silent as we lay there for a minute longer. I knew that soon she would leave with that other girl who we could hear chatting in the other room. She sighed heavily and rolled back up to her feet. It must have been a full moon because light was coming in from the window and I could see her clearly. She looked over at me as I sat up as well. “I’ll see you when I get back.” she smiled. “Well duh you will!” I laughed. We hugged then headed to the front door, after gathering the others we hugged again and she left with the other girl. Something felt unnatural, and after processing the information I have now, I understand what it was. Everything will be so different six weeks from now. It always is.
