She smiled at me when I opened my front door, a smile that tugged at something inside of me.
“Ready?” she asked, already turning away.
Following her out onto the street, we took a random turn and walked. Usually she would put her sunglasses on her head, trying to dissuade her wild hair from falling into her eyes. But today she kept them over her eyes as we walked. The light around her seemed dulled, even though I could see her still smiling.
“Ten years,” she said off handedly, looking ahead in her sunglasses.
“Of what?” I asked, confused. We hadn’t seen each other for a while. I had been busy with my new job, my family, my cat. Funny how routines can slip into becoming your life. My co-workers filled my days, slowly eating at my time. I hadn’t noticed I hadn’t seen her since….
“Ten years we’ve been friends.” She said, her smile tightening, “crazy, huh.”
I nodded, considering. It had been a long time since high-school – since year seven when we met. Our conversation seemed to dry up. She used to ask me question after silly question, listen to my stories, make me laugh. We would go on walks, go out with friends. I looked at her, unsure but not understanding.
Her hair had grown. Looking at her I remembered how short her hair used to be. I remembered how exasperated she had been with all the new attention gay women gave her. She had called it a miscalculation – she made many of those. Her family had called her ‘page boy’ for months.
Now, her mane flowed past her shoulders. Her excuse was she hadn’t the money to cut it. We walked the block, the silence between us seeming to stretch out before us like bubblegum. She had filled the space with talking. But now…
“You know, I used to think you were so cool.” She said softly, “you were so logical and quick thinking. You were organized and patient – especially with me. I appreciated that.”
“Thanks?” I replied.
“But maybe I trusted you too much, you know? Maybe I abused how easily you were the grownup and you got tired.”
“Maya?”
She smiled her tight smile, looking away. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t… understand.” I looked at her, at the goosebumps running up her arms. “Are you cold?”
She let out a bark of a laugh, shaking her head. “No.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“We never talk,” she said softly, “you’re always busy. When I’m with you – especially with others, you’re distant or ignore me. Or you say cruel things.”
“I’m just being sarcastic.”
She shook her head, “no.”
“Sorry.”
She turned her head to look at me, finding my reflection in her sunglasses. They were like blinds, separating me from her.
“I forgive you.” She replied.
We walked in silence, reaching my house. We stopped outside my door, that awkward silence settling heavily on us. I didn’t know what to do about it. She seemed a hundred miles away and incredibly present at the same time. I could feel her eyes on me, her smile twisting.
“Charlie,” she said, taking a breath, “It’s okay if you don’t want to be friends with me. It hurts – and I’m sad.” She shook her head, “I’m not going to stick around if you don’t want me to. But give me the decency to at least tell me to my face. I get it, you can outgrow people. I love you… so much. But fading away like this – even if you don’t mean to. Makes me feel like crap – like worthless crap.”
She lifted her head, “but I’m not crap – even if you carelessly treat me like that.”
I went to defend myself, but she held up a hand, “if I hadn’t asked for this walk, we could have gone months without even talking. Probably years. Friendship sometimes means taking time – and I’ve tried that. But you’re so… absent. So,”
I then saw the pain in her mouth, in the flush of her cheeks. Tears ran unbidden from under the sunglasses, her lips moving into a raised grimace as she fought the tears. She suddenly seemed so small and young, one that I had hurt.
“Maya-”
She took her glasses off, her blue eyes red rimmed with such a deep sadness I took a step back against my front door.
“I’ll… see you ‘round, yeah?” She said, then huffed and sniffed in amusement, “I won’t though – that’s just something you say to make everyone feel better.”
I didn’t move as she turned, her car keys flashing in her hands. I didn’t run after her as she left, or when she turned to wave at me by her car. I stayed rooted in my spot as she drove away.
My emotions settled into the pit of my stomach, unsure what stirred there. I remembered her bright smile, her laugh. Her fierce loyalty. And I knew, somewhere in my numbed state – that I had loved her.
But I turned my door handle and closed the door. A small fragile part of me wondered if I should have stopped her – even if it had been her decision.
I closed the door and walked away.
“How was Maya?” mum asked, looking up from the couch.
“Oh, you know – Maya like.”
Mum turned away from me, “that’s good then.”
But a voice whispered to me, one that secretly knew I had put her from my mind. I had ignored her, said one unkind thing to many.
I leaned against my bedroom door, closing my eyes.
Sorry.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
