Just to exorcise his ghost

I don’t really know how it happened. I couldn’t understand how everything could change so abruptly. One day there was this huge rift between us and strangely I didn’t want to bridge it. But that is jumping ahead of my story…my love story. Its like reading the last page of the book before starting to read the first one…but I had to begin it with saying that I really do not understand.

We met perhaps not by accident, I guess it had been fated. He was there when I needed someone to keep me from drowning in sadness. He was my best friend…. This might sound pretty corny, but that was really how it began. We went out for a drink and it all happened so naturally. I would’ve wanted us to stay, as nothing more than best buds but my stupid, stupid heart had to fall for him. I knew everything about him, not his life story but things more important than that. I knew how he felt even when we weren’t together. I knew what every gesture meant; I understood what he was trying to say even when his words could not fully explain. And he knew things about me too. I never had to tell him what I was feeling…he knew just when to hold my hand or pull me into his arms for a much needed embrace.

We were each other’s confidantes. Our stories varied from sensual to heartbreaking. He would tell me of this girl that he never had the courage to court. He would tell me of his flings, of the women he slept with…I never minded. I would tell him of the men who walked in and out of my life. I told him of my greatest fear, dying young. He would get mad at my morbid thoughts, insisting that I was the master of my own life.

We would spend hours in our favorite bar, drinking endless bottles of beer and talking about everything and anything. We never ran out of stories to tell or experiences to share. What we had was perfect…until I fell in-love with him.

I tried not to love him that way…I fought against it until it almost drove me mad. I was always angry…I could not talk to him anymore, I feared that he would see what I was trying so hard to deny. I would stay quiet as he talked of this other girl, how he was finally getting the courage to talk to her; to court her…and my heart ached with every word he said. I couldn’t tell him anything, I felt like I was being run down by a million cars. And I always had to smile and wish him luck or tease him and wish him well. I died with every minute he spent with her. But I had no right to feel that way; I was merely his friend.

I knew I had lost. Whatever I was trying to save between us was doomed. Because I was hiding something and it was unfair on him. I would get irritated at every word he said. I would try to pick fights with him, only to end up crying and hoping that we would make up soon. Sometimes I almost succeeded in convincing myself that having him as a friend was good enough.

And so, one night when I had gathered enough courage, I told him that I was really sorry but I just couldn’t handle it anymore. I knew he was confused. I would like to believe that I meant a lot to him and that not having me around was as unthinkable for him as it was for me. I wanted him to need me. I knew he would ask the inevitable question when I told him I needed to spend time away from him. I had expected his questions but I still didn’t know how to tell him. My words were halted and probably a grammar teacher’s nightmare…but he understood. A glazed look came on his face and he couldn’t believe it. Because that was not supposed to happen. Neither of us was supposed to fall in love with the other. That’s how it should be. I know it seems really stupid, but I guess it was just from watching too many romance movies but I longed to have him tell me that he felt the same way and that he had been wanting to let me know for so long. But the words I expected to hear never came. He just stood there, looking at me. I mumbled an apology, telling him I never meant for it to happen and that I didn’t really want t feel it, that I wanted nothing more than be friends with him again.

He walked away from me that night. And what was left of our friendship died then too. I got the ending I expected…the one I dreaded. It was what I wanted anyway…if we couldn’t be together then I would rather that we weren’t even friends. Yes, I say that to myself over and over again…every night. When the songs we loved so much would play on the radio, when I pass by the bar we used to hang out in, when old acquaintances ask about him. But when I sit in front of my mirror, when nobody can see me or judge me, I fall to pieces. Just before I go to bed, I wonder if it was worth giving him up. I miss his embrace, the way he would hold me close just to let me know that he cared. I miss his voice, the way he would sing a song just out of the blue, not caring if he was out of tune or if everybody else was looking at him. I miss him. That is simply what it is.

And so, everyday…. I wish I would never get reminded, but that is like trying to ignore the stars on a clear night. I still think of him…I would like to believe that he thinks of me too. Perhaps one day we might end up together just like what the romance pocketbooks say love should end…. Or perhaps one day, someone will say his name and I will finally be able to say, “who’s he?”.