Nov 2018
When one of my best friends died a couple years ago I was devastated. Actually, I don’t think devastated can begin to encompass what I felt at the time. I mean I still feel it. There are nights when I can’t shake this dull throbbing ache in my chest. Nights when dawn just can’t come fast enough. Losing her hurt. It hurt because she and I were so close but it also hurt because she was the only person that I could be myself around. In a society dominated by *** and strength I could be weak and vulnerable with her and she’d never mock me for it. There was never anything ****** between us. There was never a need for it. We met and we just clicked. We couldn’t have been closer even if we tried. I’d told her that where I came from there’d always be hundreds of stars out at night. And that whenever I used to feel low that I’d just sit on my roof and stare at them for hours, wishing I could find my way to a far away planet that orbited one of them. When I told her that I was truly at peace when I’d be staring up at them she never laughed. Never made fun of me. She told me that she felt the same way about the ocean. That something about the sound of the waves rolling in and out had the same impact on her.
She was the first person to ask to come stargazing with me. And I was the only person she ever invited to listen to the ocean with her.
Pretty soon after our conversation we made plans to do both. One night we just hopped in her car and drove. The nearest small beach was maybe two hours or so away from the big city we lived in. That first night as we laid under the stars with our feet in the wet sand, I felt at peace. I felt as if everything in the world made sense and all that really mattered was that one moment. That one night. The drive back hurt like hell. I think she must’ve felt the same way because neither one of us could stop sniffling or rubbing our eyes until she dropped me off. In fact we couldn’t even look at each other until we said goodbye. It was a shock to be so intimately connected to someone else.
Soon after, we made plans to go back as often as we could. Sometimes we’d go 5-6 times a month. We’d always look forward to those trips and I remember that no matter what came up we’d always find a way to get out of it for the sake of our little getaways.
Eventually we started going less and less. She got a boyfriend and he hated the fact that we were friends. She still hung out with me but I could see the strain it was putting on her relationship so I backed off. She couldn’t understand it. She felt as if I had abandoned her. I wanted to tell her that I hadn’t but I never did. One night she confronted me and I was an *** to her. No other way to put it. I thought that she needed a love life more than she needed her best friend. We saw less and less of each other after that. I think eventually she just stopped calling. Tired of me blowing her off. I couldn’t bring myself to go to our beach without her and so I spent the next couple of months gazing up at a starless sky from within a city of dazzling lights.
I wish you could understand how hard and fast my heart began to beat when I saw her name flash across the top of my screen. I leapt at the phone and knocked it off the edge of my desk in my panicked frenzy to answer. And I wish you could understand how utterly my heart broke when I heard her sobbing on the other end of the line. She told me that he had cheated on her. That she had found out in the middle of a party that they were at. She felt embarrassed and humiliated. I wish you could understand how angry I felt at that moment. At him for putting her through that, at myself for not being there to knock his teeth out. Not being there to take care of her.
She was driving. Drunk and hysterical. I stayed on the phone with her as I quickly got dressed and left my house to jet over to her place. I remember telling her the usual generic things that one says to a friend going through a rough breakup. I also remember asking her if she’d like to take a trip with me sometime soon, like we used to. That had gotten her to stop crying. I wish you could understand just how sweet the tiny chuckle that escaped her was to my ears. I remember just how her voice sounded when she said that she’d love that. Right before she told me that she was home and to hurry over as soon as I could.
I remember I stopped to get her chocolate and flowers. There was a line. I waited maybe 20 minutes. I remember getting to her apartment. The door unlocked. I called her name.
No answer.
Running water.
Bathtub.
Red.
I remember my eyes burning. A bottomless pit in my chest. I remember the paramedics saying that they were maybe just 15 minutes or so too late. I remember her telling me to hurry over as soon as I could. As soon as I could. I wish you could understand how long it took for my hands not to feel like they were still covered in her blood. Or how I still can’t hear her name and not flinch.
Most of all,
I wish
YOU,
could understand just how much spending a night with you on the beach gazing up at the stars meant to me.
She was the first person to ask to come stargazing with me. And I was the only person she ever invited to listen to the ocean with her.
Pretty soon after our conversation we made plans to do both. One night we just hopped in her car and drove. The nearest small beach was maybe two hours or so away from the big city we lived in. That first night as we laid under the stars with our feet in the wet sand, I felt at peace. I felt as if everything in the world made sense and all that really mattered was that one moment. That one night. The drive back hurt like hell. I think she must’ve felt the same way because neither one of us could stop sniffling or rubbing our eyes until she dropped me off. In fact we couldn’t even look at each other until we said goodbye. It was a shock to be so intimately connected to someone else.
Soon after, we made plans to go back as often as we could. Sometimes we’d go 5-6 times a month. We’d always look forward to those trips and I remember that no matter what came up we’d always find a way to get out of it for the sake of our little getaways.
Eventually we started going less and less. She got a boyfriend and he hated the fact that we were friends. She still hung out with me but I could see the strain it was putting on her relationship so I backed off. She couldn’t understand it. She felt as if I had abandoned her. I wanted to tell her that I hadn’t but I never did. One night she confronted me and I was an *** to her. No other way to put it. I thought that she needed a love life more than she needed her best friend. We saw less and less of each other after that. I think eventually she just stopped calling. Tired of me blowing her off. I couldn’t bring myself to go to our beach without her and so I spent the next couple of months gazing up at a starless sky from within a city of dazzling lights.
I wish you could understand how hard and fast my heart began to beat when I saw her name flash across the top of my screen. I leapt at the phone and knocked it off the edge of my desk in my panicked frenzy to answer. And I wish you could understand how utterly my heart broke when I heard her sobbing on the other end of the line. She told me that he had cheated on her. That she had found out in the middle of a party that they were at. She felt embarrassed and humiliated. I wish you could understand how angry I felt at that moment. At him for putting her through that, at myself for not being there to knock his teeth out. Not being there to take care of her.
She was driving. Drunk and hysterical. I stayed on the phone with her as I quickly got dressed and left my house to jet over to her place. I remember telling her the usual generic things that one says to a friend going through a rough breakup. I also remember asking her if she’d like to take a trip with me sometime soon, like we used to. That had gotten her to stop crying. I wish you could understand just how sweet the tiny chuckle that escaped her was to my ears. I remember just how her voice sounded when she said that she’d love that. Right before she told me that she was home and to hurry over as soon as I could.
I remember I stopped to get her chocolate and flowers. There was a line. I waited maybe 20 minutes. I remember getting to her apartment. The door unlocked. I called her name.
No answer.
Running water.
Bathtub.
Red.
I remember my eyes burning. A bottomless pit in my chest. I remember the paramedics saying that they were maybe just 15 minutes or so too late. I remember her telling me to hurry over as soon as I could. As soon as I could. I wish you could understand how long it took for my hands not to feel like they were still covered in her blood. Or how I still can’t hear her name and not flinch.
Most of all,
I wish
YOU,
could understand just how much spending a night with you on the beach gazing up at the stars meant to me.
