Four Far Away

It was based on you needing me.

And for four years it had been that way, I just a call away, the ringing followed by your endearing panic, your adorable whining. Then I’d make you laugh, and you’d be okay, at least up until the next time.

It has been awhile. You tell me now that you’ve been happy, your feet light against the pavement, bouncing. I’ve never known you like this, though I’ve always hoped for it, ignoring the fact that such a time would mean your not needing me.

I’m happy for you now, and I say this without wincing, with my conscience clean.

I know he makes you happy. He better not mess this up.

…………

You warned me once against our drifting apart.

You said this while we were together for lunch. I forgot where exactly. It was a time when just-you-and-me came with regularity. It really isn’t, but it feels like long ago.

And now with every fumbled greeting, with every moment watching you from afar, with every commute home alone, I come to realize that we’ve allowed the inevitability you warned me about to happen.

…………

How have you been?

You used to be my one and only constant, with me everyday, the closest thing to the center of it all for someone who hates having something outside himself at his core.

But I haven’t seen you in seemingly ages, haven’t heard from you in lifetimes, and admittedly, I haven’t thought about you in weeks. (Sorry. But maybe this isn’t such a bad thing.)

The whispers of others have been a constant with us. So what are they saying now? Do they still ask? Do they care?

How’s the team? (Where are you gals going for your summer outing?) How are the sisters? (Congrats to the two who graduated.) How’s mama? (Sorry for charging so high for the cake.)

How are you? Hope all’s well. Just checking in.

…………

Silence is something we’ve dealt with before.

But it seems like the current stretch comes with a lot of baggage. (Is it just me?) I think I know the reasons but I’m hesitant to say, like how I’m hesitant to say many things to you.

When someone comes into your (my) life and immediately takes hold of it, albeit after only weeks, you’re (I’m) left to emotional digression, hiding behind profundity and existential bullshit as a means to avoid losing your (my) self, your (my) mind.

Part of it comes from all that I carry with me from a past I’ve yet to completely deal with. But part of it is you and the way you make yourself so hard to read, which a makes this control freak equally crazy and drawn. …

(Nervous silence.)

… Ey you. You there? You still with me?