Ends
The day before yesterday I texted her: I never thanked you for the book recommendation. Yesterday I texted her: I don’t want our interactions to go back to being only on our birthdays.
We haven’t spoken in a long time and we haven’t seen each other in even more time. I miss her. The last time we hung out it seemed like we might get back together, but I wasn’t necessarily hoping for that. I’m not sure if there’s a way we could have been physically intimate and remain friends without putting the label of a relationship on it all. I’m not sure if we could have been just friends and not be intimate. We didn’t get the chance to figure that out before she withdrew into radio silence again.
Today she texts back and I feel relieved. She’s giving me more book recommendations. It feels like she’s gotten better and we can start hanging out again. She texts, I’m not sure you even want to interact on birthdays. I had made a point of not messaging her last year after our last breakup. I respond, I owe you some birthday wishes. Our birthdays are almost half a year apart and the waiting sucks. She doesn’t respond and it’s later now. I text, I just need you. Case in point, my family’s watching Kingsmen and there’s no one else I know who understands why that sucks.
I’m not…available for having, she texts back. I expected an answer like that.
I don’t know if you mean you’re dating someone else, I respond, or just not in a position to be with me. Either way, I don’t want to have you. I just don’t want to lose you as a friend.
He wasn’t born on this continent. I’m marrying him in a week or else he’ll have to leave.
I could have never expected an answer like that.
Wait, what, I text. You realize how absurd that sounds, right? So you’re going to have to forgive me for not being able to wrap my head around this.
Well I’ll give you a minute to, she tells me.
Like here are the mental steps I’m going through right now, I text her. First, you’re in a new relationship. Okay, sure, I expected as much, it seems you usually are. Second, he’s not from this continent. Well that’s more than believable, this is Toronto. Third, you’re marrying him so he can stay. This is where I take a pause in a big way, because just How did you get yourself into this kind of a plot, seriously. Fourth, you’re marrying him next week. The timing is a little too impeccable. Just when I start missing you enough to swallow pride or whatever and reach out, you’re engaged.
I feel a familiar pain in my chest, indicating the onset of a panic attack. I grab the cigarettes I bought the other day, tell my family I’m going for a walk, and head outside. Can you please give me a call, this is too much, I text her. Two blocks and one cigarette later she hasn’t responded. Come on, I text, whether or not you’re actually getting married you’ve dropped a bomb here and I need to talk to you.
Another cigarette later she finally responds. I can’t call right now, she tells me. I’m having test hair done. For my wedding. She tells me the date; it really is next week.
Well when Can you call? Because I need this. Badly.
My hands are shaking slightly. She tells me, I will call you. I ask her, Let me know before you do.
I light another cigarette and find myself walking in the neighbourhood I grew up in
Way It Was is a writing project and ongoing attempt to work through a lot of relationship related shit. Find out more about it here.
