lost

I went to your mom’s house. Because that’s what people do. They make the effort to visit in times like these. She greeted me at the door with a smile and a hug. I knew she was smiling simply for the company. I’m sure she was lonely, despite the fact that you moved out a few years earlier. Her kind of lonely wasn’t something one gets used to.

We made small talk in the doorway, and that was when I noticed you at the top of the stairs. In a t-shirt and shorts; Umbros or Champions. You were lounging. Totally at home. And I was stunned to see you there. You ran down the carpeted stairs, smoothly, and when you got to me you enveloped me in an embrace.

At your request I followed you downstairs, to your room, just as your mom was heading out the door. She called out a goodbye, waved and closed the door. “So, how is your mom doing?” I asked you when she’d gone. “She’s fine,” you told me, “She’s just stressed because we are going on a vacation and she has so much to do before we leave.”

You seemed to know what was going on, yet I was still confused. You lead me to your room, where I sat on one of two twin beds. I didn’t get comfortable; instead I perched on the edge. “So… how are you?” You turned from your desk, what appeared to be too small for you, left over from Junior High/High School days, “Good. I just have a lot of studying and work to do with these exams coming up.” Something was wrong. It just didn’t make sense. You were finished with school years ago.

I stood up from the bed, just as two of our other friends came into the room. They jumped up and down on the beds like monkeys. One would go up as the other was coming down. I wasn’t watching them but could see them in the reflection of the mirror.

We had a conversation through the mirror, both of us not facing each other, but the wall.

I asked you, “Do you know, Steph, that you died two months ago?”

let go

We don’t see things as they are. We see them as we are. – Anais Nin

You convinced me to go to Cuba with you. I’d already been, and loved it so much, I was willing to forgo the fact that our relationship had ended. As we shopped for bikinis, shorts and sun dresses, I watched you, wondering, “Is this the right thing to do?” As if you could read my mind, you looked at me over the body of a mannequin and assured me that we’d have a great time.

I left packing for the last minute; having done this twice this year already I knew what I should bring, and what could stay behind. And at the airport I stood waiting to board with my ticket in hand, panicking. I shouldn’t do this. This is a bad idea. It felt like the fear of flying. Though this time I didn’t worry about the plane’s turbulence, I worried about ours. But I boarded anyways, and once we were up in the air, I started to think about our last vacation in an effort to pacify myself. Maybe it could have been different. Though, I’d still remember it the way it was, truly; excited early mornings that greeted us with the scent of the ocean, sleepy faced guests washed in warm sun, the creaky doors, wet bathroom floors, matching flip flops, sunburns, and Sunsets.

I knew it wouldn’t be any different, to you, or me. You’d see it the way you believed it happened, and so would I.

Though I know you’ll never read this, I am putting it out there, to let you go, for you to carry on; healthy, happy and fulfilled. I am sorry. I am sorry for what happened. I am sorry that I upset you. But more than anything, I am sorry I lost your friendship. I wish that you achieve your wildest dreams, your deepest hopes and your heart’s desire.