I know I said that this weeks column would have nothing to do with “friend.” But you know what? It is my column. I changed my mind. Live with it. Sometimes, shit happens and the surprise shit finds its way here before the planned shit.
See, on Friday I finally decided to respond to “friend” and told him I was willing to meet with him with a time and place chosen. I had no clue what I would say or even if I would speak. For all I knew, I wouldn't have stayed long enough for him to finish his first I'm sorry. Honestly, I heard those words plenty the last time around. And back then, they were meaningless. But I did promise that if he wanted to talk things out, I would listen. There was never any promises that anything would go beyond that, but a chit-chat I was open to. And for this chit-chat, I decided to keep it outdoors. You know, where there are no doors to slam, checks to walk out on or open windows dying to have an idiot pushed through them. So behind the public library was the spot chosen.
I didn't say much at first; I just let him do all of the talking. I had nothing to say right away, except for the many, many cruel things that ran through my brain. But that was not what this was about. While being mean and nasty would have placed me in a rather heavenly mood, I had decided to meet with him minus the snark. Open minded and all. So yea, I listened and took in what he said.
I'll admit there were a few moments where I considered just walking away, but he seemed sincere and, quite frankly, I wanted to see how true that show was. Of course, as he spoke, I could see the truth in so many other friends' opinions of him. Yes, I had seen the utter retarded-ness he possessed in spades before I gave up on him but here he was actually admitting to it. And that showed me that maybe he was being honest. Maybe.
Why maybe? I do not trust him and have not done so since before the last fight. And I told him as much. So why was I there? Why did I hear out his excuses? Why did I even give a damn? That's easy: a promise is a promise. And yea, believing what he said is a stretch considering I cannot put much stock into anything that comes out of his mouth, but I have decided to try. He has got a lot of work ahead of him. Cause at one point, there was unconditional trust between us and once that is gone, it is hell getting it back. He says he is up to the challenge.
We will see, won't we?
The night was filled with many an I'm sorry and with each one I wondered if the sentiment was true. I debated accepting the words for what they should mean or consider them another case of Just sayin' what I should to make this all go away. Remember, he does have a history of uttering those words without any real meaning behind them. In the end, I split the difference; I did not forgive but I did not say Never going to happen.
Eventually i did speak something of substance: I asked if he knew why I walked away. Then I found out I had to tell him. And the moment I mentioned it, my mind was flooded with memories and images and never will happens of Angel. Most of that I kept to myself; he did not ask, I did not offer up anything up.
At that moment, I was reminded why I have become who I have this past year. See, everything from that phone call, that night and the days that followed is still there inside, just under the surface. The night I was told what happened to Angel stayed with me all this time, barely hidden beneath the carefully crafted exterior, and as such touches and shaped every aspect of my being. I could have gone to others to help me through this time, but when a best friend leaves you to deal on your own because getting shit-housed with those other (see “real”) friends is more important, it fucks a person's psyche. I questioned my trust in other people for quite a while afterwords. Unfair, perhaps. But also understandable.
The six hour long conversation brought all this back up inside me. I don't like it. I was happy with the denial. But I know I should face it and deal with it and finally be able to move past Angel's death. We'll see what happens there too, I think.
Even with all the shit running through my head, the recurring urges to leave and the doubt I had in everything he said, the strangest past of the night was the physical distance between us during the whole time. As close as we once were, it felt almost... wrong to be talking from so far away. Strange, I suppose, but that is one of the many places my brain went to. Maybe that, along with every other aspect will be different the next time we get together. But who can say, eh?
As for the next meeting, I would think sometime this week. Why take too much time in between? If he really wants me back in his life as the best friends we were, than I am willing to try as long as he is willing to keep working at it. And seeing how it is an ongoing thing to fix what happened and find a way to move past it, I'd say too much time between talks would be a very bad thing. Why ruin what might have been a good start?
I hear from him, I'll make plans to get together with him. And I'll keep an open mind that pushed out the Angel factor. I can get to that at a later point. Right now, “friend” has a lot to prove if he really wants to be as close as we were without the extra complications.