2003

    He was her only friend. Not because she was unlikable or odd in a way that made people avoid her, but because she never let anyone else close enough to be considered a friend. He took her to school at the local community college, even though he himself had stopped attending a semester ago. She was too afraid to drive herself there and get lost inside the school. He made friends with people easily and as she was in class, sitting in the back row on the left side where no one would notice her, he would while away his hours talking and laughing with his new band of friends.
    When he was invited somewhere, he took her. They came and went together. Their names were always said together as if they were one person. This made her feel important. A part of something special. They went out with his new friends (just acquaintances to her) once or twice a week and afterward he would take the long way back to her house. On the nights that they didn't go out with his friends, he would aimlessly drive them around for hours until he found himself driving toward the park at the bottom of the hill right in the middle of town. Once parked, they would lean their seats back so they could stare out of the moon roof up to the tops of the trees whose leaves now looked black against the milky night sky. His CD player always filled the gaps in conversation, always magnifying the mood, making them imagine themselves in some dramatic teen show. The music lifted their spirits making them speak of the future in easy, confident tones. With the change of a CD came a new ambiance, subliminally crushing their spirits, dashing their hopes. The coming years turned into impending doom. In that quiet, deserted place; in her sound-proof metal box where she lay just barely under the windows, she felt invisible. The trees held her in a trance, and she let the hushing sound of their rustling soothe her, like a baby being rocked and quieted by its mother. Only when she stared up at the neon lit sky over the edge of the valley could she tell him the answers to his questions.

"What is your biggest fear?"

"I don't have one."

"Everyone has one. Come on. Really think about it. What are you most deeply afraid of in life?"

"Spiders?"

"No, you know what I mean. What are you afraid of in life."

"Never being married. I don't want to be alone for the rest of my life."

"Really? Why do you think that you'll be alone?"

"I don't know. Please don't psychoanalyze me. I know that is messed up. I don't need you to tell me that."

"That's not really bad. A lot of people probably have that fear."

"You don't?"

"No, I don't. But I have other problems. I have a really bad self image."

"Oh. Well, aren't you different."

"How did we get to be such good friends?"

"I don't know. We just were together a lot until it felt wrong when we were apart. We enjoy each other's company."

"We won't always be friends like this. You know? Some day I'll have a girlfriend and you'll have a boyfriend and we just won't know each other like we do now."

"Why would you say something like that? It's not true. We'll always be friends like this. We can be friends even we're married to other people."

"Be realistic. You think that whoever you marry will be fine with you talking to some other guy on the phone or going out to dinner with your best guy friend?"

"He'll have to be. I'm done with this."

    After these conversations, he would take her home and they would find even more topics of discussion which would keep them sitting in the driveway for another hour. When she finally tore herself away, he would sit and wait for her to unlock her door and she would watch from the living room as his headlights retreated back to the street. Once in her room, she would almost feel compelled to call him and tell him something else she had forgotten about. Sometimes he would call her on his way home, just to keep himself awake.

    At some point, she felt that letting another person in was possible and she started dating someone she met through one of her many acquaintances. The girl and her only friend fought almost constantly. Always the same fight, just different words.

"Why can't you tell me anything about him? Why can't you talk to me about your relationship?"

"I just can't. It's uncomfortable. You know why."

"I don't understand. Your ruining everything our friendship was built on."

"No, I'm not. It's just none of your business."

"Of course it's my business. You just don't have time for me anymore."

"We see each other all the time. We go out with your friends and we spend time driving there."

"I'm just your chauffeur. You use me to see him."

"That's not true. We're going to the same place so you offer to drive me there. What is so wrong with me spending time with him when you're with all your friends?" She spat out the word "friends," trying to make it fly out of her mouth at a speed that would actually slap him in the face as it bounced around the car, trying to find its way out.

    He had no answer. She knew what he was thinking, what was missing from their connection, but chose not to react to it. Instead, she gathered her keys, slipped out of his grasp, out of the car, and entered the cover of her quiet house. Alone with her thoughts, she convinced herself it was time to let go of her old friend and let him move through life free of her. She would find solace in her new romance and he would find relief of his duties to her.

    Unfortunately, the infatuation soon ended for her acquaintance's friend and so ended their affair. Along with that ended her want to rid herself of her old friend. He took her to see her newest ex-boyfriend and he let her sit on his lap while she waited for him to show up to their regular coffee shop. She perched on his knees, tense and shaking. "What if he doesn't come tonight? He's trying to avoid me." He attempted to refute everything she said but they both felt the hollowness of his words, falling dully out of his mouth and barely making it to her ears. When the evening's subject finally appeared, she was ready. She approached his table and asked if they could talk. Leading him out of the room and into a doorway of another storefront, she began grilling him. Was he with someone else? Why did he end the relationship? Could they ever get back together? Did he ever care for her at all? He evaded all her questions, and later on, she watched him leave with another girl on his arm. That particular ride home was spent curled in a ball on her faithful friend's car seat sobbing into her sleeve. Over and over he would whisper "I'm sorry," until they reached her house. This time she felt the words reach her weary soul with meaning and she let them in to assuage the damage. She turned over onto her back when she heard the driveway's gravel underneath the car. Once again, staring up at the black leaves of the tree overhead, she spoke.

"I thought I had finally found someone who cared about me."

"You have."

"I'm 20. When my parents were 21, they met each other."

"I know. Maybe it's just not time yet."

"When then? Can you give me a timeline? Can you tell me how many more of these I have to go through before it's time for me to be happy?"

"You can be happy."

"Thank you so much for being there for me. You're always there. I love you. Do you love me?"

An inaudible intake of breath. "Yes, I do."

"You're like my brother. I always told my parents I wanted an older brother. I don't know what I'd do without you."

An inaudible releasing of breath.

"I just decided: I'm done with the opposite sex. I'm going to start relying on me. I can be happy when I like who I am. That shouldn't hinge on whether someone else wants to be in my company."

He chuckled a little, "If you give up on the opposite sex, you have to give up on me, too."

"No. You're my best friend. You know everything about me. We are...I don't know, we're just us. I can't let go of us. Is that what you want?" The last sentence came out apprehensive and unsteady.

"Of course not. I couldn't just throw this away; all this work and time and the friendship. We're impenetrable."

"Yeah, we are. I'm glad I have you. Goodnight." With a kiss on the cheek and a new found purpose, she drifted into her house. Still heavy hearted but with the knowledge that she had her best friend to lean on. It was them against the world. She looked back as she turned the key in the side door. He was already gone. She could see his taillights down the street a little ways. She would call him tomorrow and see if he wanted to go bowling with their friends. She hadn't realized how much she looked forward to those nights, always capped off by the affectionate, hushed conversation under the cover of a tree darkened hollow.