Friendly chat

It's funny to think how it all started as a coincidence: the desk was empty simply because the new hire didn't last a day. She went for lunch and never returned. I needed a place to put all of my stuff after being kicked out of the conference room for the third time in a row, and with an almost imperceptible grunt, you pointed towards the empty chair in front of you. I had the feeling you were one of those people who prefer to be left alone most of the time, and having your face glued to your monitor while I was unpacking was a clear indication of that. No doubt about it. But I had to work, and I had to have a place to sit and connect my computer if I ever wanted to finish my work.

I tried to stay quiet and not disturb your silence for as long as I could. Yeah, we exchanged some typical "good morning" greetings every day for the first week or two - we tried to be decent to each other, right? - and nothing more. Yes, I asked you a few times if you wanted something from the store when I went to grab a bite, and by the fifth attempt, you asked me to bring you something. And hearing you saying that you specifically wanted some chocolate donuts was a nice change in the rhythm we were keeping until then. Honestly, I think this was the first time I noticed the color in your eyes, and how they glow in a shadow of green I had never seen before. And now that I think about it, maybe this is why I picked the green bag over the others when I was trying to guess which donuts you would like.

We made it a weekly tradition to have some of the same donuts and a drink the first morning every time I went back to that location for the next few months. We started ordering lunch for the both of us and having longer and longer conversations while we were sitting down at the little break room at noon. And when they switched you to the evening shift, I switched my schedule just to match yours and keep spending time sitting at that desk in front of you. I was almost done and all of the equipment was fully tested and installed, and the project was semi-completed, but the way our chat took form was something I was not ready to leave behind.

I don't recall if it was you or me who started mentioning more and more personal stuff and asking for an opinion about it, although I strongly believe it was you who shared the most personal bits during our daily conversations. Not that I didn't want to share some of mine too, but it looked like you had a good amount of them to unpack, and I was eager to lend an ear. I learned a lot about how hard your life had been so far, listened to your stories about your non-typical-teenager endeavors and all of your "my first time doing..." which, by the way, never ceased to amazed me. We talked for hours, giving each other little pieces of advice - some good, some ill but all honest and true - and spent a precious time just being Us. I had never had somebody sharing so much with me before, as I had never shared so much with somebody else too. I was very appreciative of how it all started by a chance.

The one thing that hit me the most was when I was listening to you telling me the story of how you tried to end your life when you were just 17 years old, after being physically abused by somebody you knew for a very long time. I kept my focus on you as long as I could and I paid attention to every detail, but it was like a burning fire inside of my brain for most of that conversation. The rage I was feeling wanted out so badly, that I had to excuse myself for a couple of minutes and went for a walk to the other side of the building. It was just a mere coincidence that the Manager called me at that moment, and hopefully, you didn't notice that I was going for the walk anyway. By the time I came back, I was already in better shape and asked you for more. It was hurting me deep inside, but I needed to know every inch of that story in detail for some reason I couldn't understand. You continued with the tale on how you met your now husband and how you ended having a baby boy shortly after your wedding, so I had to accept that you jumped into a more bearable chapter within the book of your life.

One thing I didn't understand at first was your negativity to give me or accept a hug from me whenever I was leaving for the weekend or when I came back the following week. But then I realize the reasons behind it when you told me that story from when you were 17 years old. And I accepted and respected your desire from that day on. There was no real need for a direct touch after all, given how deeply connected we were by then. For us, it was just a matter to sit in front of each other, opening the little green package of donuts, having a sip or two of hot coffee, and saying "so, what's new?..." in the vaguest voice we could find. This drove everybody else crazy, and we loved it.

Two weeks before my last day, you had to work the evening shift again for a few days and asked me if I could switch my work too since you didn't want to be alone. And of course, I did as always without hesitation, but also without telling you just how happy it made me hear you asking that from me for the very first time. We were enjoying our time at the office, and all those long conversations about anything and everything. But on the first night, I also saw you getting mad at the people in the warehouse for some simple mistakes they did. I knew already that you had a temper and that you didn't tolerate that well when they didn't put some effort on their part, but weirdly enough you started showing some very short fuse for the most stupid reasons. And when I asked you what was going on, you deviated the conversation into some random topic about the City and how it affects people living in it for a long time. I went along the ride with you and kept the conversation going on, but I couldn't figure out just why you were so mad for apparently nothing.

When the shift ended on the third day and we were walking to the parking lot after closing the main door, we noticed that my rental truck was parked right next to your little white beetle. We stayed in between the cars for a very long time, just chatting and chilling - chilling since it was around 55F that night - like we didn't want to leave. You mentioned that you had some bad days during the previous weekend as you were battling some old arguments with your husband. You looked exhausted and sad, and your words were coming out in a slow cadence. I gave you some advice on how you could talk with him about those old topics, but your head movement told me that you were not accepting what I was saying. I stayed quiet for a few minutes waiting for you to say something else but then noticed how you started opening your arms and reaching towards me, in a clear movement to hug me. I honestly was not prepared for that, but didn't move a muscle and just accepted your embrace fully. When you noticed that I didn't move my arms, you just pressed a little harder and said "thank you" with a soft voice that I barely understood. And when I asked why, you answered with something that got attached to me since then: "for letting me get closer to you, before you".

The last week of my trip was crazy, to say the least: we worked the day and evening shifts non-stop every day, but the manager allowed us to order some special lunch and dinner out of my travel budget as a thank you gesture of his part. I suggested one night for you to try to find the most authentic Mexican place around town and when you said "I think I found the perfect one" I asked you how you would know if you were an Indy native. Your answer gave me a laugh "because I can't understand shit about the menu!" So we ordered the best tamales one man can have outside his hometown, but we bought enough for us and everybody else. We were a Mariachi short from a real Mexican party.

Friday came along too quickly, and as we exchanged parting gifts I handed you a little box wrapped with a red ribbon on top. Of course, you asked me what was in it and I told you about the time you said that "the most important part of everybody is on the inside". I know for sure that I had never seen you laugh so hard before as you did when you finally opened the box and discovered a keychain with a little skeleton head on it. Especially because it looked exactly like the one you had as a handmade drawing posted on the wall next to your desk. You gave me another one of your special hugs, but this time you asked me to hug you back. We stayed like that for the longest time I could hold you before the other people around started yelling at us to "get a room". Then I said my goodbyes, kiss you on the forehead, and left.

You kept messaging me for a few more weeks after my departure, telling me stories you never told me before, and how bad the situation with your husband was turning about. I learned how you didn't want your kid at first, and how you finally accepted your pregnancy basically as you were driving to the clinic to put a stop at it. You told me about the second time you attempted to end your life after a couple of years of being married, and how you decided not to do it just because you didn't want your mother-in-law to take care of your kid. You told me about the affair you had with a bearded man 20 years older than you, and how your husband caught you two doing it on your bed. You told me about the time you forced your dad to drive you for 4 hours just to get a dog at a rescue shelter in another city, and how you started fighting with your husband as soon as you arrived back home with the dog since he didn't want it. You sent me pictures of the little fella with your dad, sitting by the porch at his house because your husband didn't accept to live with an animal in the same house with you. And you told me how the dog would be staying with your dad for a while. And I read every single one of those messages with care, and then send you back the best advice I could give. And you seem to like what I was saying to you.

One thing I never told you while I was there sitting across your desk is that I am better at talking with others when I am not in the same place as them. I mean, I can hold a one-to-one conversation - I am not a weirdo - but I honestly prefer to keep some distance in between me and others. I don't know what it is, but I am better at texting than I am at talking if that makes some sense. And so those texts you kept sending me started an even deeper connection with you, as you kept sharing darker and bizarre thoughts with me. I guess that you felt comfortable with that arrangement too, as it was fully demonstrated by how well we connected after I left.

But of course, everything good in life has an end, and your messages were more sporadic as the days were passing by. You sent me a bunch of photos too, of you with friends, of you with the dog at your dad's place, of you walking around with your kiddo, of you when you were younger. Then you sent me a few notes I had trouble understanding about a conversation you had with the Manager at work, and how he was worried about you. You were not behaving as expected at work, and he was having some questions about your mental health in general. We laughed at it because of an old conversation between you and me where you told me you had the "hots" for him, and we kept saying that he was just trying to have some time alone with you maybe because he had the "hots" for you too. This was a reoccurring joke for most of the time we were talking, and so I was not all that concerned when you mentioned what they said about me.

I started feeling distressed when you mentioned that they didn't believe you that we were still talking. They kept asking you to show them the texts or calls, but you were adamant about how private they were and with good reason. You shared a lot of very specific recounts of events that happened to you, and I asked a lot of personal questions that you had no trouble answering but only to me. I got to know the real you and all that was in there, text after text. And then you showed me the text that the Manager sent to you, and I started to realize what was going on, and why he was so concerned about you.

You kept reminding him how we spend a lot of time chatting at the office while I was working on setting all the equipment up, and how we connected at a very personal level after I left. And you sent him an example of one of our conversations over texts, about a simple topic you had no issue with him knowing about, just to demonstrate how it has been very helpful to you talking to me and opening yourself to somebody else's opinion about Life and everything in between. He understood the reasons and even agreed with the approach and the results, but then he showed you on his phone that same conversation you sent to him as a picture and you noticed what he saw on it. And you froze in your chair for more than a couple of minutes before you were able to ask.

The last messages you sent me included a note you got from him, after he started noticing your behavior and how you reacted better to communicate via text. It said how you two talked extensively about what happened after I left. He was very sweet on the way he explained to you how my flight never landed at the scheduled destination, and how the authorities arrived at the scene after a few witnesses saw the plane going down, engulfed in a dark cloud of smoke. He was very patient while all of the reality hit you and you started asking him and pushing him to believe what you were saying about our conversations going on. You showed him some more, he took a picture of your phone's screen and showed it back to you. And that was when you noticed the way the dialog was simply a collection of multiple texts repeating themselves: one entry when sent, same entry when received.

I guess it is true what they say on how every individual handles a loss differently, and how some use that internal dialog we all have as a defense mechanism so they don't lose their minds when the pain is so great they can barely handle it.

We never talked again after that. And I miss you dearly. I know it was not me but rather yourself who choose to stop having this very special conversation from continuing, and probably for some valid reason. I know that I helped you to overcome the memories of some of the darker chapters in your amazing life, but I also know that there will be more, and it worries me not knowing if you will be ready for it. But there is nothing I can do until you decide to start talking to me again. I remember something we both agreed with while I was still there: that we will not be pushing if one stopped messaging the other but rather we would be waiting until the time was right. I wonder how long it will take for that, but I have all the time in the world now, and you know where to find me if you want to.

Heck, I finally realized something: you were right on telling me what you said to me before, and I was right on finding, buying, and then giving that partying present to you. The little box with the red ribbon on top indeed included one of the most precious gifts I had ever given away. And you were the most perfect recipient one could have ever imagined for a little object like that. Too bad I now need to wait, but there is no rush; there is nowhere to go, and the peace here where I am is quite interesting. Lots of noise, but nothing to worry too much about it.