An apology to a once, but no longer, friend of mine.
Let’s be honest–we had a pretty shaky start. I was the new girl, literally only two days late–or maybe two years, depending on how you look at it–and you were the queen of the pack. My first day you tricked me and locked me in the bathroom–I only spent maybe fifteen minutes in the dark until the teacher, concerned, sent someone to look for me.
When I came out I wasn’t scared–I was pissed. When the teacher made you apologize, you certainly didn’t mean it.
We somehow became best friends after that.
I must have dragged your popularity down, hoarding your attention all to myself, but you didn’t seem to mind. You chose me for your team during recess even though my near-sightedness made me terrible at nearly all of the playground games. We slept over at each others houses, which surprised your parents–given how much of a tomboy you were–and mine–given how reticent I usually was.
This continued for years. You had other friends, sure, and I had other friends, sure, and those groups of friends never really overlapped except for the two of us. But it worked, somehow.
Until… it didn’t.
It must have been something I said, because for nearly a decade after, your mom would murmur to mine about how she had never seen you cry so hard. And, frankly, I can be an asshole, especially as a child. But honestly, for the life of me, I cannot remember what I said. I’m sorry for that.
After that disastrous sleepover we just… stopped. There was no more we or us. Just you and your friends and me and my friends, stuck in the same classes at the same schools for the next ten years. The strangest thing was the complete lack of hostility. There was no grudge held… it was as if we had just ceased to exist to each other.
This lasted for eight years.
We evolved into different people, shaped by different cliques, likely different than who we would have been had we stayed friends. Or perhaps our differences would have pushed us apart anyway.
Then, our senior year of high school, you complimented by socks. Which, by the way, thanks again. I loved those socks. But, also, what the fuck?
It was, in the least bitter way, too little too late. I said thanks of course, and after that it was like we could suddenly see each other again. We’d wave at each other in the hallways and occasionally complain about homework in the classes we shared. But nothing substantive enough to salvage the broken dusty thing that was our friendship.
We graduated. Our lives drifted further away from each other. We went to different colleges, I don’t even know which school you went to, I just know it wasn’t the one I did.
Last week, I heard from a high school acquaintance that you had gotten married. After double checking with other old classmates, it turns out that it was your sister getting married to a girl with a similar sounding name as yours–which must make family dinners confusing–but still, it gave me a shock.
And it made me remember. And it made me consider.
I’m sorry that I hurt you and don’t even have the decency to remember how. I’m sorry that I put it all on you to even attempt to rekindle our friendship. I’m sorry that we aren’t in each other’s lives any more, or at least that we never got to find out if that’s how it would have gone naturally.
I’m sorry.
I hope you’re content. I hope you’re happy. I hope you–if you want to that is–do find someone you’ll love enough to marry. I hope you look back on your life and are satisfied with it overall, even if some little details still make you cringe.
And I’m sorry that I may be one of those little, cringe-worthy details.
I hope whatever I said to you was something that made you cry only the once. I hope you never look back on that moment, but if you do, I hope it is only for a fleeting glance. I hope you buy as many socks as you like in the style that we like. And I hope you remember, even briefly, those years when we were we and not just you and me, and I hope you remember them fondly.
~
A/N: Semi-autobiographical… changing some details around, though I guess I was vague enough that it didn’t really matter, huh?
JackSGreyson Says 