What if: 6 Years Later.

The ginger ale was flat. Again. It always seems that the far-right soda gun at the bar produces a pitiful example of what a soda should be: cold, crisp, and fizzy. It was only cold. But my mind doesn’t want to focus on asking for a new one. No, there was something significantly more important looming on the horizon. And not just something, but someone. An old friend, with whom I somehow managed to muster up the courage to seeing her at this local little chain restaurant to catch up. Six years… how time has flown. So many memories between now and then. All mainly during college, but those four years blew past without anyone asking how or why. My mind begins to race back to the time right before college. To a much simpler and safer place: senior year of high school. Specifically, the second semester during the winter. Where all the pleasant times occur because of a single person’s kindness and desire to be around me.

She was, really, the only one who actually wanted to be around me. Going out of her way between classes to find me and talk before the next one began. Those feelings were reciprocated ten-fold on my end, so much so. And all of this happening because of a single text message one random night because a friend of ours gave me her number. Perhaps even that mutual friend noticed the spark before I did. But with one message, she and I were off to the races. Long nights of texting about whatever was on our minds. Lots of sleepless nights, which never bothered me in the slightest. The lack of sleep was a worthy sacrifice if it meant more time with her in any capacity. Then it turned into time outside of school; moments I never had anticipated happening. But, was way too happy being involved with to say otherwise. Random visits to the high school after dark to run around the field in the cold. Random tag-alongs to a local comic store so she could get the next Spider-Man comic available. Buying her a very specific superhero figurine because she just loved the character too damn much. An unfortunate missed opportunity to go see a movie with her because her cat got really sick. And time spent between her house and mine. All these little moments, good and bad, culminating into the biggest faceplant of my life (and it still holds true to this day). I’m constantly reliving those memories; not just because they are pleasant. But because it was during a time where having someone like her in my life at the time, was the greatest gift I could’ve ever received, and not even knowing why I got it in the first place. I didn’t deserve the company and compassion she gave me; I felt as though I hadn’t done anything to deserve it. But I think, me being there for her, to help deal with and figure out whatever bullshit she was dealing with in her personal life, might have been the good deed I did to have such a wonderful friend.

My thoughts come to a halt, when I feel some fingers tap me on the shoulder. My head perks up and I look over to my right. There she is; in the flesh. Wearing a black sweatshirt and tight blue jeans; very similar to an outfit I would’ve seen her wearing in school. Her hair has grown considerably longer since I’ve last seen her, but still bearing the same black dye color when she had it cut down to her above the shoulders. Her fingernails were painted black as well, but they were down to the nub so it was a tough paint job. A new little nose ring is adorned between her nostrils. And of course, the fully black vans sneakers and laces; a staple of her attire. She opens her arms and greets me with a smile that was warmer than the sun. I’m aghast that this is happening in front of me. I can feel my mouth hanging open just a tad, so I close it and return the hug. I catch a small hint of what might be her shampoo scent. Again, all too familiar. Just like when I let her borrow my scarf because the school’s heat was out that day. When I got it back, the smell was so unbelievably pleasant, I wore the scarf even for a long time that night after she returned it to me before we both went home. It was just so nice. We open from the embrace and I usher her to take a seat across from me.

We sit for a moment in silence, taking each other in. Again, I’m just blown away that this is happening. It’s always hard enough to grab her attention through the phone long enough to have a half-way decent conversation, but now we get to talk in person. She’s the first one to break the silence. She compliments my beard and how well kept it is. I say I try my best to not let it get too long and out of control, but sometimes I just get so lazy to cut it myself. But I thank her and mention that it can be tricky to trim it without pulling the hair and having it hurt. Of course, when you get a compliment, it only makes sense to send one back. So, I mention that I like the direction she is taking with her hair (but to be completely frank, I actually preferred it when she had it short. She really pulled it off well). I’m the first one to mention the time gap between the last time she and I have seen each other face to face. She nods and agrees with me. Time has taken somewhat of a toll of both of us, but more so on her than myself. I can see it in her eyes; it wasn’t very kind to her. She tries to apologize for not trying to meet up after graduation but I stop her and assure her it’s not her fault (because it’s not). I went straight to college after high school, so I had just the summer of ’15 and I was back in school once again. That isn’t a lot of time. She asks me what college was like. And I explain to her that freshman year was really rough for me. Not only because it was a new environment for me, but shitty roommates don’t help the transition either. But I got lucky, and got a new one only after about a month, and it got much easier after that. I proceed to explain each year’s living situation and some of the highs and lows that happened. All leading up to the thankful graduation of 2019. To which, she congratulates me. She jokingly says that there was no way she could’ve gotten through college, but I disagree. The people you can meet, and the opportunities that are presented to you can make for a tough challenge, but I can see her buckling down and getting serious about it. Of course, she still pushes it to the side as a joke, and I don’t try to change her mind.

Now it’s my turn to play twenty questions.

I first ask her how she’s been, and while she gives me a warm response that would suggest she’s doing well, there’s something in her voice that signals to my brain that there might be more to that answer than meets the eye. A change in tone, the smallest hesitation; it’s so tiny. But I picked up on it whether she wanted me to or not. So, I call her by her name; she looks at me. Those eyes; green, bright and beautiful, staring back at me. But with an intensity to them, as if she is looking into me instead of just at. It almost feels like she wants me to pry on that answer, like a treasure hunter figuring out a puzzle to the treasure room, hidden away. I ask her again, how she is doing really. She must sense the seriousness in my voice. Her head sinks just ever so slightly, and she looks at the coffee in between her hands, which begin to play with the rim of the mug. She takes a breath and explains how she’s doing good now, but was going through different kinds of highs and lows. Her face hardened up, and I could feel the smile in my cheeks begin to fade away, in replace of a much more serious expression. One of interest and curiosity, but of concern as well.

She explains that it wasn’t always easy. To which, my mind immediately begins to respond to her story:

“I remember, you never had it easy. I witnessed that firsthand”. She explained the arguments between her mom were always at each other’s throats. “I remember; the night we watched a couple B-movies after I visited a campus up north. That ride home was hell unto itself. You came over after I got home. We were having a wonderful time. Then that text came from your mom asking if you fed your rabbit. You didn’t. You knew what was going to happen next, and honestly, I kind of did too. You got scared, and reached for my hand; I gave it to you, as you sent the response to her. We waited in silence as the inevitable loomed ever so slowly. I rubbed the inside of your palm with my thumb, it was the only thing I could think of to try and relax you. And then, well, that night ended earlier than we both would’ve liked it to.”

She eventually has to move out and go on to figure things out for herself. “I remember, the murmurs of you wanting to do that during school. It wouldn’t have been a good idea. I suppose my pleas of trying to convince you otherwise worked. But at what cost?”

She goes on to talk about different jobs and where she is now. The different people who she still talks to from time to time. The handful of relationships she has been in… Now, my ears perk up and my chest begins to tighten up. The one subject I so desperately wanted to avoid. Information I didn’t need to know, and honestly don’t want to know. The last thing I desire to hear, are all the people in that position in her life, that I never got the chance to try and fill. But as her lips move onto this topic, I feel my stomach churn. I break eye contact with her, and my eyes desperately try to find something else to focus on. They end up deciding on my soda, which has been empty for some time now. Stupid brain syndrome (anxiety as I once heard it called) rears its ugly head. But, why now of all times? I’ve never felt this way before anytime I was with her back in the day. So, why now? It’s probably because of what she’s talking about. Brings up feelings of the past I don’t want when I’m around her. She talks about how for a while she was rolling solo, then she met a couple different people but it never took off. A part of my brain exhales as if I’ve been holding my breath this entire time. She then mentions how the relationship she is in currently is going wonderfully.

And my heart sinks to the bottom of my shoes.

I mean, I don’t understand why I’m so surprised. Perhaps it’s just the impact of those words, face to face that hurts more than the information itself. I’m not dumb; She’s a very good-looking girl and finding a relationship probably isn’t too hard for her. Combine that with her significantly more outgoing and bombastic personality compared to my own, and you have a recipe for matches potentially made in heaven. I know that’s the case, I understand it. But part of me just rejects that logic. I mean, I’m also happy for her. All I want for her is to be happy. She’s had to put up with so much in her life, that being happy is all I ever wanted to give her when she and I were spending time together.

I must be looking off for too long because her waving hand in front of me snaps me back to reality. She giggles and asks me what is so interesting that I’m staring at my soda for so long. I rub the back of my head and tell her I’m digesting everything she has told me, stumbling over my own words in the process. She raises and eyebrow to that statement and asks me what about her story was so interesting. I tell her everything was. After high school she and I barely talked so hearing all the details about what has been going on in the last six years is genuinely interesting. Hearing someone else’s life open up to them after school, where the possibilities are seemingly endless depending on what you’re looking for. I explain that for me, I didn’t have a plan B, so more school was kind of my only option. My anxiety was so bad back then (granted it really hasn’t gone anywhere thus far), that working immediately after school was too hard for me to process. It made me sick to my stomach. School was an opportunity to figure out some kind of plan; it gave me time. And on some occasions, it gave me peace. Her head tilts to the side and her eyes open wide at the word anxiety, then tighten back up, just a little; she’s really taking in every word that comes out of my mouth. I never told her, or honestly anyone about anxiety. Hell, I’ve only been acutely aware of it since sophomore year, and even then, I trusted only myself with that information.

I pause for a moment to sip on the remains of what once was my soda, making all sorts of loud slurping noises, and she pushes her coffee mug to the side and entangles her fingers together. She calls my name, looks me in my eyes and asks me if she was ever the cause of my anxiety, in anyway. Given what I witnessed and experienced being around her, she wouldn’t have been surprised if that was the case. In my mind, I’m almost offended she thinks she had any part of me being such a nervous wreck.

If only you knew the truth…

I raise my hand and swear on everything that she played no part in my problem. I explain some of the whereabouts for this issue. The origin story, if you will. I don’t go into all the details, but enough to convince her she isn’t at fault. I also take a moment to put my hands close to hers, and say that being around her in school was some of the most relaxed I’ve ever felt in a long time. She was, no; still is a breath of fresh air. Especially now that it’s been so long, we are kind of starting over, but in a good way. High school wasn’t terrible for me, but I certainly had more lows than highs. And senior year was almost nothing but a high, and that was mainly because of her. I explain how nice she was to me; how we clicked so well and quickly it blew me away how fast our friendship grew. She agreed with me, she never planned on it happening that way, but she was glad it played out the way it did. And I did too, I recall the time she hugged me so hard she almost made both of us fall on the ground because she was so elated from that Loki figurine, I bought her. She remembers that moment and laughs with me. The chatter between us grows quiet again; both at a loss of how to continue the conversation, which is honestly a first. I try to rack my brain and figure out what to say next, but honestly, I’m lost. Without saying the obvious, it’s hard to keep this going after so long of not talking to one another on a consistent schedule. I look down at my watch; an hour and a half has passed, which has felt like ten minutes as a whole. She excuses herself to use the bathroom and leaves the booth. I rub my forehead, feeling the sweat that must’ve been visible to her. I take a couple deep breaths, angling my lips so the air escapes from the bottom right part of me mouth. “Where do I go from here? I’ve run out of things to say without just bringing up the past. She probably doesn’t want to hear about it anymore unless she asks for it. I can only do so much in this situation without, again going for the throat and emotion dumping everything onto her. And with her not being single that would make the situation go from bad to worse. And if THAT were to happen…”

My thoughts are cut off by her tapping her fingers on my shoulder the same way as when she greeted me. With her phone in hand, she informs me that she has to leave unfortunately. She needs to take her cat to the vet for a routine checkup. She apologies for losing track of time, and having to leave but I wave it off; it’s okay. She begins to take out her wallet, but I beat her to it and say I’ll pay for the coffee; my treat, and as a way of saying thank you for meeting up with me after all these years. She smiles at the gesture and I pay for the drinks and we head outside where she, I’m guessing, unintentionally parked next to me. She asks if it’s my car, and I say for the most part it is. I use it the most but other people in the house take it if the need to go to the store or something quick. Either way, she brings me in for another hug and I take in the embrace; it’s warm, and homey. The memories of high school flood back to me one more time in an endless cacophony of images. After a few moments, I go to release her from the hug, but she tightens up ever so slightly.

“Just a couple more seconds”, she whispers into my ear.

I’m surprised at how long she ends up holding the embrace for, but eventually, we break from one another and say our goodbyes. I hold up my phone to her from inside the car and mock-text the screen to say I’ll message her later. She gives me a thumbs up and a warm smile before she pulls out of the parking lot, and I see her drive away. I look on as the back of her car gets smaller until it goes into a tunnel, not to be seen anymore. I stare at the steering wheel for a moment, before punching it hard not once, but twice. Tears begin to swell up in my eyes, and I clench my hands into fists, very tightly. “Why? Why can’t this just go one way or the other. I’m sick of playing in the middle, I just want an answer, no more of these silent games. Through the phone, it feels like she couldn’t care less about me, but in person, after six fucking years, it feels like there is so much unfinished narrative to our story. Some of which I still want to know, and apparently some that she still wants. But why can’t either one of us just say what we want? Or better, why can I just SAY what I want?”

My emotions calm down after a couple of minutes before I turn the car on and begin to drive home. This entire saga has been nothing but unspoken words, and unanswered questions. And after six years, with almost little to no communication, whether it be over the phone or in person, where I’m making the first move almost every time, it’s come to this. Me not saying what I want to say, and trying to get what I want, because I’m looking out for everyone else except myself. For one reason or another. Because it’s easier, less awkward, or whatever the reason might be there’s something going on upstairs that’s preventing me from being upfront with her, or anyone about anything really. There’s no selfish part in me that is willing to take the gamble; roll the dice, and see what would happen if I exclaimed everything I’ve ever wanted to say. I worry about everyone else before I worry about myself. It’s easier to just keep it inside, away from any and all human contact. Part of me wants her, and the other part doesn’t anymore. And I don’t know which side to take anymore. The way I see it, she got part of me many years ago, and I never got that piece back. Some would call this a rather toxic situation that I need to just leave in the past; where the rest of my emotions and memories are with this girl. And those people may be right. Always taking the initiative to get things rolling is rather taxing, but one thing I’ve learned post high school, is that if you want people in your life, you need to advocate for yourself and tell those people what you want. And the problem here is I’m only doing half that. My brain and heart can’t decide what to do. And I need to figure this out before the choice is out of my control… forever. Well, here’s to another six years. May the world be kinder to you in 2021, than it has been since we lost spoke. With conflicted feelings, emotions, and ongoing whimsical imaginations.