Forever and Always

Sometimes, it's harder to move on than you think.

 

“It’s not about finding that perfect person. It’s about finding that imperfect person and loving them perfectly.”

-         Matthew Young

 

“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”

- Nick Carraway, The Great Gatsby

 

Our last night together, we sat on his couch with pepperoni pizza, Pepsi, and the Princess Bride.  I was leaving the next day and so was he - we both somehow that we would never see each other again.  But it was strangely normal; not over-the-top special, just what we would normally have done on a week night, like what we had done all summer.  As I sat on the couch with his arm around me, I thought (like I had so many times before) of why I had taken the plane to see him.  It was a strange impulsive decision that was so unlike me - reminiscent the impulse I woke up with one morning to love him so long ago.

***

We met in band. I knew who he was, but had never interacted with him. I actually sat and talked to him for the first time at a competition the school was hosting and something about him stuck with me. Maybe it was his humor or wit; maybe it was the way his whole face lit up when he smiled; maybe it was the scared look on his face when he saw me dancing, mocking the dance team that was performing. After that day, I had myself convinced that I liked him. More than liked, I thought I loved him. We interacted more and more after that day, mostly making small talk and waving hello every once in a while in the hallway. I was assertive, which did not play out to my advantage. The more time I spent with him, the more I came to realize he was pushing me away.

It was a friend who showed me an internet blog posting, the gist of which was that he had no real feelings for me and he wished for things to end amicably. It was hard to find the words to say I was sorry for pushing him, but they found their way via my sharpie onto the computer paper. I gave him the note the next day, telling him when he tried to open it to read it later. It broke me, but it was the right thing to do. I left the next year, during which time he and I talked off and on. Each time we talked, the same odd feeling of wanting him welled up inside me, leaving me more and more confused each time we talked. Then, one morning on my way to work, something came over me and instead of taking a left, I took a right and drove to the airport and caught a flight home to see him one more time.

He seemed surprised to see me, but welcomed me with open arms. We spent most of the summer talking off and on and accompanying another friend of ours on random excursions to the mall or the bookstore downtown. Our favorite activity was raiding his house with peace offerings of chai lattes or highly caffeinated beverages and Japanese candy. The summer passed in a blur, and before I knew it, the time came for me to leave again. The week before I left, I asked him to come with me when I left. He put his face in his hands and looked at the ground, then back up at me. I knew that the answer was no, even though he hadn’t said it outright. I accepted this, knowing that he would give me that answer, and yet, I had asked, thinking that perhaps there was a chance that he would come with me. I got a call the day before I left, asking me to come over. He wanted to see me one more time.

***

My thoughts were interrupted when he began to run his long fingers through my short hair.  I leaned on his chest, letting the feeling of pleasure caress me from his fingers running through my hair and closed my eyes.  We sat like this, mesmerized with each other for a while before he stopped.  I sat up and looked at him; his green eyes seemed soft and penetrating at the same time.

"I'm sorry." I said finally.

"You know I can't say yes just to make you happy.  This is the best for both of us."

"No, really, you made me happy saying no."

He studied me for a minute.  Tears welled up in my eyes and slowly dripped down my cheeks.  He reached up and took my face in his hands.

"I'm sorry." I whispered.

He leaned forward, kissed my wet cheek, and pulled me into an embrace. It was in this moment, without words, that we loved each other.  His hands wandered down my spine and slid into the valley of my lower back as mine completed the circle and interlocked behind his back.  I wanted it to last forever, but it was well understood that there would be nothing after tonight.  Even as we held each other, he passed into my memory and became merely a voice inside my head, the angel that would inexplicably haunt my nightmares for years after I knew him.  To him, I had become the woman he both never wanted and from whom he could never turn away.  We became the ships bearing each other’s dreams that sailed into the horizon and out of sight.  I knew he would find a woman that would love him perfectly in his imperfection as I did, but more perfectly.  He knew I would wander for the rest of my life, an untouchable and unattainable woman.  In that moment, we were both lovers and friends – even though I knew we could never love each other as perfectly, truly, or as deeply after tonight.  Even in all the years after we eventually lost touch, he will still be the only man in my mind that was both all I wanted and yet, infinitely unattainable.  I, like Gatsby, had put him up on a pedestal as infinitely perfect and wonderful; to be admired and fawned over, but never to be touched; a dream that seemed so close that I could hardly fail to grasp it. He was my Daisy.

The ultimate feeling of understanding that passed between us diffused the complications surrounding our friendship.  Friendship is a strangely odd, complicated and wonderful relationship all at the same time.  I have had many friendships, but none as beautiful and sublime as the friendship of lovers.  To me, that is the most wonderful feeling in the world. What love truly is: being loved by your best friend.

"What you do now," he whispered, "is up to you."

Reviews

[John Braswell]

Good read My wife and I went our separate ways---then became best friends. Your line - What love truly is: being loved by your best friend - hit home with me.
Thanks

[Joel Price]

dude, this is a great story. I love to read stuff like this, the fluency is awsome, keep it up.

[Harish Jackson]

Princess Bride=AWESOME movie, even MORE awesome book.

This is, of course, a great story. Someday I hope to hear what really happened.