I often have a particular thought. This thought comes to me every time I find myself somewhere unexpected. In particular, if it's a place that, years earlier, if you had told me I'd be there, I would have said "Get out! No way!"
It was later on, after high school, in my early uni years, where I felt more sad, rather than upset, about the whole thing. About how it had ended. About how we had both eventually tried to patch things up over the years, to no avail, no response from the other party. It seemed we were out of sync: when one was ready to make up, the other wouldn't hear of it. And the funny thing is, it was all unspoken. We knew this, just because, we knew. We knew each other so well and knew what we were feeling, even without a word being spoken. Without a glimmer of any argument or ill word.
There was a point at which, I grew so saddened by the situation in retrospect, that although I wanted to catch up, the thought of calling her terrified me. I mean, 6 years had past, how would I know that she cared? Rejection is a powerful force, and it kept me from calling...but it didn't keep me from sending a birthday card.
I'd decided once again to use her birthday as an opportunity to reach out. I did send a card, just with a simple happy birthday message..... from me. I refrained from saying anything about the friendship, or suggesting a catch up, because I thought if she wanted it, she would call and say thanks, and therefore the conversation would probably naturally lead in that direction anyway.
However I never did get a phone call, nothing. I often wondered if she had moved house, or if the card got lost...... yeah, that makes you feel better doesn't it? Easier to believe that than to think the worst.
I ended up bumping into her a few times, funnily enough she came into the store where I worked casually, and although initially and totally shocked by the encounter, we both remained casual and made small talk. As if never had ever happened. But clearly it had. Or we wouldn't be partaking in small talk.
And I asked her: had she received my birthday card? It had been at least a year since then, and I had to know.
Her response? A coy smile, yes and a thank you.
Oh, it was all very well and good. Thank you for telling me all I had to know about what you thought of our once-friendship, and that you clearly didn't care. I shouldn't have been upset, it was better to know than to go on believing she cared. Because if she did she would have called and said a simple thank you.
But I just couldn't push it out of my mind. Unfinished business it was. And I truly believed that a simple incident, so many years ago, had stuffed up a fantastic friendship.
Years went on. Occasionally I had dreams. They would occur maybe every 6 months or so. Probably after I had thought of her, of the situation. But in every dream, we would end up friends again. Talk about dream fulfillment.
Life went on. Jobs, friends, came and went, and then life turned busy. I joined the social interactive network known as "Facebook" and shortly after that, life got even busier when I started planning my wedding.
And one day, while checking my inbox, I saw it. She had requested me as a friend on Facebook. Obviously, she had come across me, maybe through our mutual link to some groups, and decided to "add" me as a friend.
I'll keep the next part brief: a few messages went across, back and forth between us, blah, blah, blah, and we kept saying that we should catch up, but with, well life, it just didn't turn out. I got married and that was it.
Actually by that stage I was pretty much over it. I guess I hadn't admitted that fact to myself, but I was. I'd slowly, subconsciously, come to the realisation that, it wasn't meant to be. Regardless of how the friendship had ended and through what means, it clearly wasn't meant to be, despite random meetings and intentional phone calls and methods of contact. The universe clearly didn't want it to happen.
And why should I have wanted it to happen? I had fantastic friends in my life. In fact, two of my besties are truly my besties. I love them so dearly, and we have such a fun, loving and honest relationship, that really there seemed no need to actively pursue a friend, who I'd seen in the past, wasn't sure herself of what she wanted.
People change yes. But when your friends change, and you stay as is, finding the change difficult to accept..... well, in a life where I had the best friends anyone could want, I honestly didn't need to go back to that.
Funny how when you don't want things, the universe presents it to you..... "here.... do you want it? take it, take it!"
A few weeks ago, late at night after dinner at my parents, I had to make a quick stop at the supermarket to get some lunch meat for work the next day. I made my usual selection, and after standing in line, I proceeded to pay. It was then that I felt a soft tap on my arm, and I looked at my left to see who it was.
It was her.
My former, late, ex, call her what you will, my previous bestie.
It was a shock I tell you that much. After she paid for her own item, we spoke for a bit. It felt funny, surreal, more like something out of my dream. Two former friends bump into each other at the supermarket late at night, and end up making uncomfortable-but-trying-to-be-casual small talk, while the 15 year-old barely legal shop assistant continues to put items through for customers, wanting to finish his shift but simultaneously straining to hear our conversation.
We ended it quickly: she had somewhere to be, and we both left, through opposite exit doors of the supermarket. I felt relieved for the encounter to be over, but also, a bit sad. A part of me had thought: "you should have suggested a catch-up, it was the perfect opportunity."
But the more I thought about it as I drove home, with hubbie beside me listening to music, was that I was good. I was ok with things. I actually had no more of a need to want to mend things. To finish things that were unfinished, whether that be finish them in a good or bad way. I could leave everything as is, and accept life for what I had and what was, what was real. We were always going to be just small talk friends, despite our history, and I no longer cared. It wasn't in a bad way, I was just over it all. And I pondered this, and I was content about it, on the drive home.
Late that night, I received a text message on my mobile. I noticed the unknown number, and thought it was due to the fact that that week I'd messaged a whole lot of people about my upcoming birthday. Clearly I'd messaged someone who now had a new number. I was busy when I got the message, and so almost forgot to check until about half an hour later.
It was her. Again.
Proof of the fact that even before that night I was already over everything, was the fact that when I'd changed mobile phones and was reentering friends contacts into my new mobile, I 'd decided to keep her number out. I had even forgotten about that at first, reading her message, thinking "she has a new number....." then again distantly remembering my decision months earlier.
In her message, she made light of the fact that we'd bumped into each other, and suggested it was time for a catch up. After a bit of to-ing and fro-ing in our messages, we decided to catch up for coffee a few days later. I felt weird. I felt good, surprisingly so, as if my wish had come true way too late, but clearly not late enough, as I obviously still had these lingering incomplete feelings in regards to our fallen friendship, and the fact that I was pleased meant I hadn't totally given up hope. Or had I?
Finally, the day came. Not after days, not even after weeks and months. But at least a decade. Because that's how long it had been, since all of this happened. All of this confusion, not speaking to one another, all the frustration and anger. And we were actually meeting. It felt quite surreal.
Which is probably why the whole experience felt like I wasn't there. I felt oddly calm and relaxed. Part of it probably was due to the fact that we had known each other so well, that it was easy to slip into each other's lives again. But.... there was just something odd.
We sat, we drank tea, talked, caught up on each other's lives, work, relationships, holidays, family. I don't think there were any long silences, at least not long in terms of staring off into the distance trying to find a topic to speak of.
She was the same, but different of course. The years make you more mature in some ways, and I'm sure she thought that of me too. She was her same, friendly, talkative self. But more subdued. More grown up. As if she's gone through a bit. She mentioned something big that had recently happened in her life, with quite ease, which proves my theory.
I guess the main point of weirdness for us that night, was the elephant in the room. I'd thought about this elephant a lot, before our meeting that night, and wanted to confront that elephant with her. This wasn't just any normal elephant. I mean, this one was bright pink, had bells and whistles, a party hat, and a little white tutu. Quite extraordinary I must say. And the whole time, this elephant sat right next to us. Just watching, like a tennis match, as we exchanged light conversation.
And not once, throughout this whole meeting, did we acknowledge the elephant. Poor elephant, waiting there, just wanting to be talked about. It's almost 11 years old, and we didn't even mention it's upcoming birthday.
Ha.
Despite all the time we'd passed, neither was brave enough to broach the subject of what happened so many years ago. We both pretended that everything was cool. That we disappeared from each others lives quite easily, as if part of normal everyday life. I had wanted to bring it up so badly, bring up that glaring, waiting, anticipating elephant so much, but I just couldn't. It would have been too confronting too soon. I didn't know what was right or wrong, really. It was just too hard to confront all that, at an easy, catch-up-on-the-past-decade-of-our-lives-over-tea meeting.
So we finished our teas. And walked to our cars. And said we would catch up again, when she got back from her holiday.
And we got in our cars and drove off.
And I thought "next time, I'll bring up the elephant. At our next meeting it'll be more appropriate."
But, as I drove home, feeling quite normal about the whole night, I realised something.
I wasn't sure if I wanted there to be a next time.
I thought really slowly and carefully about this for the rest of the way home. Which brings me to my post title. When I was 14.... was I right?
This whole time I'd always thought that it was the circumstance surrounding our unofficial break-up, fuelled by our puberty enraged hormones and teenager natural-bitch-tendency that had created this whole mess. And now I was beginning to see that I may have been right all along. At 14 years, despite my raging hormones and mildly unreasonable anger, I could have had a moment of complete clarity, a moment where I could have forseen the future, which involved two friends, slowly growing apart due to different interests, their lives heading in two different directions. And I chose the opportunity for a not-so-clean break.
This realisation has really stunned me. Years of wondering "what if?" have now changed to "I may have been right all along." Right to leave things as they were. Suddenly seeing things differently, from a new perspective, after struggling so long to deal with what happened, is somewhat, liberating. Especially when you learn that despite the puberty blues, you were right.
I don't know. That's why I use the word 'may.' May have been right.
She's still on holiday as far as I know. There's been no contact since. Only time will tell whether our odd-meeting was due to the fact that it's been so long, and it will take time to get into each other's lives again: that is, our encounter was fated to be.
OR, whether it was just a culmination of the past decade, proving that some things, are just best left behind.
Life can be weird. It gives you things when you least want them, and tests you by taking away often what you think is dearest to you. However, life is at it's most unique when it shows you that you were right all along. I'll find out soon enough if this is the case for me.
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