It was a cold night. I was on a crowded train platform with my friends. I leaned on my husband for warmth. And then the boy called. You know the one.
A whole month had gone by since we last communicated, and this time I thought I was finally rid of him. But there he was, calling me again. We both acknowledge we are friends, and it has remained that way, so I didn�t feel conflicted or ashamed to answer the phone.
He told me he wanted to sing me a song. Without further explanation he began to sing a song he�d written for me. (Perhaps because he recently found out that I cried once to a song he had given me. It was a very cruel and tragic song about two people who were of the same mind, but the woman married some sensible executive type and spent the rest of her life remembering the other man with wistful regret. He played it often, letting the words of the song tell me what he was too polite to say.)
The train swayed back and forth now as I silently listened to his voice. At that moment, I felt very loved. Being serenaded in one ear after a long and satisfying day, while surrounded by the people I love. When his song ended, it felt like waking up from a pleasant daydream.
�That�s it?� I asked.
�That�s it.� he replied.
�Okay.�
And we said goodbye.
I wonder if this will go on for the rest of my life. I imagine him calling me years later asking what�s new, and me updating him, �I'm pregnant.� And him replying just as he most likely would: �So?� As if it made any difference.
And yet, without his quirky personality, something in my life would be missing.
I really hope he finds happiness some day with someone who will really love him. Someone who is worthy of him and his beautifully intricate mind. And I hope that he will remember me as fondly and unpainfully as I think of him. Not as a mistake or a complication, but as a friend who although on the surface keeps distant, will always walk beside him in spirit.
3:25 a.m. - 2006-05-14