The Wayfaring Stranger

I’ve lost my best friend

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“Accidents ruled every corner of the universe except the chambers of the human heart.” - David Guterson, Snow Falling on Cedars

For two people who had loved, hated and said goodbye a million times over, we never get better at it.

Andrew (Guile to those of you who have followed my blog for years) had been a lover, a villain, a hero and best friend over the last ten years. He is infuriating, comforting, sweet, cruel, temperate and melodramatic. If it were possible, this would be the person who would know me in distress before I called out.

And we just said Goodbye. Again.

When we broke up in 2005 after four years of being each others first and only, I don’t think I was recovered until 2007.

“I hate you,” I said over email. With in seconds I received a call.

“I want to hear you say it. I don’t think you mean it,” he demanded.

I said it again and hung up. I didn’t mean it. I cried, I screamed. But I never meant it. There was a time we didn’t speak. It lasted months, and his absence filled my nights with every missing phone call and every unsent text. Eventually I was able to watch Family Guy and Simpsons without wanting to share every good joke. I was even able to watch an Army/Navy football game without thinking of him and his Long Gray Line uniform.

When I was almost over it… when I was within the brink of letting all the drama and all the heartache turn into a distant memory I got a phone call. I would recognize that number anywhere. Years from now it will still be ingrained in my muscle memory from  years of dialing it into my parent’s house phone. I answered with trembling hands only to be disappointed when the wrong voice answered back.

“So, do all white guys look the same to Asian girls?” the voice was too deep, too jovial. It was his best friend but I instantly recognized the laughter in the background as Andrew’s. My heart skipped, but I concealed it. It was my Andrew once again. Eventually, his best friend gave him the phone. I don’t know why. I don’t know how it would have ever been healthy for us since he knew the kind of roller coaster we had ridden just to stay apart, but it happened.

“So…” he asked “How are you?” It was such a simple question with every undertone of the other three word phrase – I love you.

“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

If there was a way to be inseparable while in different timezones, we were it. He dated other people. I dated too. We swung between the two extremes of “I’m glad they’re happy” and pangs of jealousy but always masked it with a veil of friendly banter. Daily texts, phone calls, chats, facebok messages, smoke signals, carrier pigeons… I knew every step, every concern, every celebration and disappointment. I visited him once a year, and we fell back into a routine. You see, no matter who he dated while we were apart, I was always fairly confident that we would return to each other and that at the end of the day, my voice would be the one saying “Goodnight. Sleep well.”

It wasn’t healthy. It certainly did not help us cultivate a real relationship outside of the fake one we had with one another. We were each other’s safety net.

“Hey, if my eggs feel old and we’re both single, want to get hitched?” I asked him once, as a joke. When it became a sort of informal agreement, maybe it became dangerous.

Each weekend we spent together was like magic. It was like being in a relationship again without the long-term hassle of actually maintaining it. We vowed not to leave with expectations. When I was there, it was “us”. When I left, we were simply friends again. But things can never be that easy. I felt pangs of jealousy when he showed interest in other girls around him – we were both too honest with each other – but it wasn’t until he asked me if I was seeing anyone, and I had to honestly tell him that I was, that it became a real problem. We had gotten so close that it was like we belonged to each other again. He became jealous. I became guilty. What were we doing to each other?

So tonight he said goodbye again. Again. Again. But this time I didn’t lose a boyfriend or a lover. I lost my best friend. He was my family. He pulled me up after my divorce. He forced me to climb a mountain, when I thought my knees would never let me run again. He became my comfort.

I cried like it was the first goodbye. Tomorrow I will feel the absence with a missed call, and unsent text. I’ll probably cry. A lot. But maybe the day will come where I can watch the Denver Broncos and not think of his reaction to every play. I’ll quote Family Guy without wanting to laugh at it with him. I’ll see a pair of gray eyes and not immediately see his face. One day, I won’t feel completely abandoned.

“He saw very clearly how all his life led only to this moment and all after led nowhere at all. He felt something cold and soulless enter him like another being and he imagined that it smiled malignly and he had no reason to believe that it would ever leave.” Cormac McCarthy, All the Pretty Horses

“You’ll find someone who completely puts me to shame,” he reassured me. “Someone who makes you nuts and presses all the right buttons. I love you, but comfort shouldn’t be mistaken for what true love could be.” With each reassurance, my heart broke more because the same truth would apply to him. He wouldn’t be MY Andrew, he’d become someone else’s Andrew. Someone better. And will envy and hate her for all that she has and all she could give him.

“I’ll miss you. I love you.” I said. “Goodbye.” What else was there to say that we had not said before? I’m lonely. I’m devastated. It all feels too familiar.

You see, Happy Endings are for stories that haven’t finished yet and my Love story was destined for failure from the very beginning and we stay apart because it hurts less than staying together.

Tags: Andrew, friendship, Guile, love