Last Words

I see on my phone that I missed a text from her twenty minutes ago asking if she should call. I also see that I missed a call from her one minute ago. My sister’s at home and I don’t want anyone to hear. I grab my keys and go for a walk around the houses behind mine. I call her back.

She answers almost immediately. We exchange hellos. I feel like I’m on autopilot. Her voice sounds different. It’s clearly her, but there’s a different quality about her voice. Before when she spoke the smallest utterance my entire body would react in a way that, although “erotic” would be too strong of a word for it, it’s not entirely untrue. Now I just feel confused and in a daze. I sigh.

“Well, I guess, first off, just a simple question: What the fuck?”

I hear her scoff a little, light-heartedly. She says she’s not sure what I’m talking about in particular. I tell her there’s one pretty big particular, the only thing I could be referring to. She’s getting married next week.

I say to her that the timing doesn’t make sense. They’ve known each other for a year at best, more likely a few months. That’s not enough time to justify committing to marriage to save him from being kicked out of the country. I tell her that I’ve heard her denounce marriage quite adamantly before. We’re both children of divorce, which definitely contributes to our jaded attitudes towards marriage. She always thought it was a bigger waste than I did.

I tell her that most parts of me don’t believe her. She’s lied to me about other people before. She says it’s okay if I don’t believe her. She sounds like she’s on the defensive, but also like she’s dealing with a child. I sense she’s had to explain this to many other people before. Her words are careful and she sounds tired.

“Okay, so even if you really are getting married — and I know this is a loaded question coming from me, but — is this what you want?”

She explains to me that it is. And I believe her.

She explains that she’s happy. For the first time in a long time she’s happy. Yes, of course it’s incredibly rushed, but if this is what it takes for the relationship to survive for him and her, then she’s fine with that. She says she prefers an unknown future to certain depression.

She also says she got a new job and I congratulate her for that. I’m walking around trying to find a dead end road with a park bench that I just know is around here somewhere. I can’t find it. I wander about the neighbourhood.

I ask her who knows. She says her whole family is coming in. I comment on that.

“So, this isn’t just a rush-job wedding at a court house, then? You guys are really going the full nine yards?”

She tells me that when she told her mom and her mom’s boyfriend they said it should be a bigger wedding. She agreed. There’s a break in our conversation.

“I meant do any of your friends know?”

“I don’t really have any friends.”

I knew that. I thought maybe she’d met more people in the time we’ve been apart, or that she’d reconnected with old friends, but she didn’t. I start to think about our friendship. I have no more questions and we’re both silent. I’m realizing the conversation is almost over. There’s one more thing to address.

“So, I guess this is it between us? We can’t really be friends. I can’t imagine it’d work, with you being married.”

“Okay.”

“No, I’m asking if that’s what you think.”

She sighs. She says that I’m not wrong. She says that maybe things were never as good as they were when we were 16. I tell her that’s not true, not for me.

We’re reaching the finish line. I should say my goodbyes.

“I care a lot about you, so I hope that it all works out. I’m glad that you’re happy. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy. To be honest I’m not happy about all of this, for obvious, selfish reasons, but I really do hope that you’re happy in the long run.”

She thanks me.

“I’m sorry I fucked you around so many times,” she apologizes. I smile sadly, an expression I imagine she can sense over the phone.

“I’m sorry I let myself get fucked around by you so many times.” Maybe I could have atoned for my own sins against her. In the moment I’m not sure what trespasses I haven’t already paid for. I feel a little selfish. I don’t want to get malicious.

“I guess I should let you get back to work. Take care, — .”

She says goodbye. We hang up. I delete her texts and contact information from my phone. I come home. I almost throw up. I start to write this and pray to anyone that will hear me, asking if I can be okay soon, can everything just please be okay.

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.