Thank you very much for your comments on the last post. I had debated for a while whether or not to even mention it, to let this fester silently, offline, where it might very well belong. But I took into account every comment, every suggestion that my friend just might not be able to share what’s going on in her life because it’s too painful to talk about or it’s not in her nature to articulate it. Or she might not be responding to me because she’s being held hostage (Thanks Jenny!). Fair enough.
And despite how much I wanted to scream and screech, “What about meeeee?” I sent her a short message saying how I know she might be too busy to call, and if she ever needs to talk to me, I’ll be there.
I don’t know if I believe it, but it is one step closer to being the bigger person.
I pored over the sweeter memories, the ones that made this whole process so painful in the first place. When she and I were roommates, we were driving home from a huge Costco shopping trip. We were at a red light when I noticed the driver next to us staring into our window. When we looked back at him, he shook his head and said, “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help staring at you.” He flashed a huge smile and drove off.
She and I were a bit stunned and flattered at the same time, but then I gunned the engine, speeding after him.
“What are you doing?!” she asked.
“I have to find out which one he was talking to!”
And the interior of the car filled with our laughter, our voices so loud we couldn’t hear anything else.