Friendship for Dummies

Chapter Twenty-Nine

            I shake my head, breaking our eye contact and looking back towards the lake. It’s already difficult enough to force the words out, without the scrutiny of those chocolate irises making it even harder. “I think you know what,” I sigh. “About everything. Us.”

            I notice he falls silent after this, suddenly caught up in the sight of the swaying trees on the distant side of the lake. “I thought you were avoiding me,” he says eventually.

            “I was. But I realized... well, we have to talk about this. Otherwise we’re never going to get anywhere.”

            I’m answered by another wave of silence. Suddenly, a strange feeling of nostalgia swells inside me. Standing here, so close to Connor I’m able to feel the warmth emanating from him, I realize just how far away we are. Worlds apart. The memory of our unbreakable childhood friendship seems a lifetime away, yet suddenly I yearn for it. All these years, I’ve coped without him, plastering on a brave face until his memory began to fade for real.  For a moment I’m eight years old again, hiding away in my room, crying my eyes out as the extent of our separation begins to sink in. Then, as quickly as I snapped into it, I’m here again, struck by a longing that’s heavier than anything I’ve felt in years.

            “Connor,” I say, “what happened to us?”

            He shakes his head slowly, refusing to meet my gaze.

            “I just... I need to know what I’ve done to make you hate me so much.”

            I study his face, my gaze sweeping over every little detail. The way his dark brown hair falls choppily over his forehead, the faint freckles over his nose that are only visible close up, his small pink lips that always looked impossibly soft.

            Suddenly, I’m seeing the eight-year-old boy from years ago. The one I adored. The one I couldn’t imagine being without. My head is swimming; all I can remember is the sincerity of his expression as he stood at our fake altar, vowing to love me dearly for the rest of my life.

            I’m choking out the words before I can stop myself. “I miss my best friend.”

            He still doesn’t react, instead looking back at me with an expression I can’t analyze, no matter how hard I try. I feel tears welling in my eyes, threatening to spill over, but I blink them back. An aching sensation is spreading through my body and for the first time in years, I want nothing more than to have my best friend back.

            “Please,” I say, “talk to me. Tell me what I did to hurt you.”

            The pause following my words seems to stretch out forever. He inhales deeply, then runs a hand through his already messy hair. His frown is concentrated, as if picking out his words as carefully as possible. “The day I left for New York,” he answers eventually, his voice quiet, “was the worst day of my life.”

            “Mine too,” I breathe.

            “I spent so long,” he continues, “working out how I could possibly say goodbye to you. You were the most important person in the world to me, and I almost burst into tears every time I thought about leaving. And on moving day, all I wanted was to tell you how much you meant to me… how much I loved you... yet you didn’t even come to see me.”

            I swallow, memories of that painful day coming flooding back. How I’d stayed holed up in my room, desperately clinging onto the hope that if I didn’t acknowledge the truth, if I somehow darted around it, everything would be okay.