iron maiden: day 2
transience

my closest closest friend said, "if you say you'll miss me if i don't go, then yes, i'd like to join you."

i had already made plans to meet with her, our dragonfly friend. but i tell him, "yes, i want you to be there. i need you to be there." it's funny how with people you've known most of your life, three is always a company and never a crowd.

the train ride to the café is harrowing. there is an air of desolation in the cab, so thick and soft you could cut through it with a butter knife. there is a mother holding her baby, wondering where her next paycheck will come from. there is a beautiful woman holding hands with a not-so-beautiful man who will never marry her. there is a coed reading an old letter tucked into her calculus book. there is a middle-aged businessman, eyeing the coed and looking down her blouse.

then there are the both of us, wondering when the train ride will end. we sit and stare at each other. this is the way we talk about things sometimes. i can read his silence the way he reads my smile. on some days, it drives our other friends mad, since they can hardly join in on our mute conversation.

the train rocks awkwardly as if swaying to an old disco record it alone can hear. right now, our eyes have stopped talking about the train ride. we are now talking about how that damn cup of cappuccino should be worth all this.

in minutes that seem like hours, it is time to get off. we heave a sigh of relief. he comments gently on how hot is. i swear like a sailor. fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

our dragonfly friend is not yet there when we arrive. and so we meander. we look around, point at some ridiculously dressed habitués and laugh.

when he finally looks at me, the tilt of his head is prophetic. i know what he is thinking. i smile at him. he knows what i am thinking. we are not just friends. we are eight years of walking down a road that has always had two separate destinations. that is alright now. he's had his loves and i've had mine. there will be no intersection there.

"hey, guys! sorry i'm late."
"ah. she arrives."
"have you two been waiting long?"
"nah. we could both wait forever and we still wouldn't be bored."

she smiles knowingly at my statement.

later that night, the coffee tastes too good. he tells us how work is distracting him, thankfully, from thinking of the person he wants to think of. i tell them my eyes are getting bad and that i am going to the beach soon. she says she is in love in a way she has never been in love before. we tell each other we will all grow old together.

then there is a beep. it is her mobile. when she turns away from us to answer it, he and i look at each other. we conspire on another of our silent exchanges.

i am glad you're here.
so am i.
are you okay?
yes. but i could be better.
i'll have another cigarette, okay?
help yourself.
i'm glad we're in a better place now.
i'm glad we started over.

there are some lessons etched too deeply into our hearts that we can hardly teach ourselves to unlearn them. there are some things left unsaid that we know we should have just said when the other was still there (at the right place and at the right time) to hear them. he and i know these. we had been through hell and back together. and we are still walking down a road that has always had two separate destinations. there will be no intersection there.

weep not for the memories, somebody told us once. we're not. we still have our memories. but more importantly, we still have each other.

i rode north at 8:08 PM

>>> blogstalker deleted comments page