Those first few moment on the phone were like trying to find a light switch in the darkness of a new place. You can barely remember what it looks like until your eyes adjust and you’re able to navigate through the shadowy space. Our journey through the initial salutations felt like that awkward fumbling, stumbling to figure out where the conversation would lead, and I definitely wasn’t ready for where it would take us.
My feet hit the pavement as I pushed the speaker button to hear him better.
Our clumsy greetings made way for the actual process of catching up to begin. I took a deep breath and promised myself that I would be as open as possible, avoid snippy answers, and try to infuse the warmth I felt for him into my replies. I arrived back at the house for my lunch break and moved the conversation from the car to the kitchen.
He happened to be at his apartment when I called.
“Did you not have to work today?”
“I already went to work, but there was nothing to do so I came back to the house to watch the game.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot you’ve got it like that.”
“Ha. Yeah, I do. I mainly go to work only to get my school work done. Everything is so slow that there’s nothing to do. I already finished up all my class assignments there and was back here before noon.”
“Must be nice, man. ”
For the first 30 minutes we talked about my new car, plans for graduate school, how busy he had been with his summer courses, and how unhappy he was at work. Nooches, one of his cats, could be heard meowing in the background. I asked him to tell the cat hello for me, so he did. The silliness of the request and his willingness to oblige reminded me of our past history and all the fun we had. To actually hear his voice, to interact with him, served to make the remnants of those memories even sweeter.
I warmed up my lunch as we talked and shared things I thought would interest him, like graduate school details. We moved on to talking about soccer when he received an incoming call. He asked to call me right back, then answered the other line. It was his buddy asking whether or not he had anything to eat at the house during the Brazil match they planned to watch later that afternoon. He ended up only having hot dogs, which led to a discussion on how much I dislike franks in general.
“You used to always eat those little hot dogs at the bagel place.”
“No, I didn’t. Those were sausages, definitely different from a regular hot dog.”
The arguing went on for a little bit as I slurped on my soup.
“Okay, fine. They were sausages, not hot dogs.”
“I think you’re right. I guess I’ll have to agree with you.” He laughed at my acceptance of his concession.
“Do you still get those?”
“Umm…sometimes.” He was never a big fan of them, or of comfort foods in general. “I eat a couple and take the rest back to the house. I have moved past the lox and cream cheese, though. Now I get the breakfast sandwich with sausage and American cheese.”
“Still on a jalapeno bagel?”
“Of course.”
The conversation moved on to Em and how he was doing. Jay felt that he still was having a tough time resigning himself to single life as a father. “He wants to be out partying, meeting women, having fun.”
I disagreed.
“Em may not be the best egg in the world, but I think he’s significantly matured since the baby. He’s a great father and loves [his son] so much. Plus, he’s got the house now and seems to really be settling down. I know he’s overwhelmed with school, and work, and the house, but I told him I would be excited about his accomplishments even if he was too tired to be excited himself. Buying your first house is a really big deal, or at least it is in my book.”
“Yeah, definitely.”
Jay later went into some conversations he had with Em while helping him move to the new house. From what Jay relayed to me, Em never mentioned any of the things I was concerned about. Probably a smart move for the sake of their friendship. I opted to keep my mouth shut as well.
Our talk stalled a little as I tried to think of more things to talk about. I decided to assuage my curiosity and possibly bandage a few wounds instead.
“Hey, I was wondering…why’d you help out the other day, but never let me know about those gifts I had for you?”
“Uh…well…as far as the gifts goes, I thought about it and decided it would just stir things up, bring back old emotions. So, I, uh…I just never called or answered whether or not I wanted them. And…yeah, pretty much all there is to that. As for when you sent me the email, I happened to be sitting at my computer, had the information handy, and was able to quickly shoot it back over to you. It was convenient since everything was already there.”
“Oh.”
In that second, my defensive walls shot back up, barbs and steel tightened around my heart, and the temperature dropped back down to frigid. The only thing keeping me warm was the soup I had decided on for lunch. As the heat fully dissipated from inside me it was replaced by ice.
Instances over the past year of worrying, wondering, hoping to salvage our friendship came flooding back. How I felt when wondering why he never called yet supposedly cared, why he ever answered some calls yet never picked up on others, why he ended conversations with a “talk to you later” that never came all popped into my head. Remembering the countless moments of crippling sadness, moments when even strangers could see how sad I was, robbed me of the emotional high I had felt a mere hour earlier. All of those instances took place simply because he didn’t want to stir up emotions. His emotions. What about my emotions being stirred up every time he pretended things were okay? What about my heart? What about leaving me by myself to figure out why I felt so strongly about our friendship while he could find it, and me, so disposable? I envisioned our exchange like a hockey game when, with a simultaneous quick jerk of both arms, the gloves forcefully slip right off. There will definitely be a fight, but everyone is still waiting for someone to throw the first punch. It was like he gave me a green light to bring the pain, and I did.
With the hope of salvaging my initial intentions, I changed the subject by asking how everything else was going.
“The job is slow. Have no idea what’s gonna happen with that, but there may be a company that will buy us out. Soccer is good. Finally moved up to the Premier Division, and trying to get into shape for that but injuries have slowed me down. Right now, I have a torn groin muscle and, at the end of last year, got a broken rib after a goalie ran into me. Moved out of the old house. Now, I’m living with my girlfriend, and actually live right down the street from you now. It’s on the corner of (this street and that street). She’s a physical therapist and works in the area.”
There were no gasps of surprise on my end. Moving in together was suggested when we were friends as the only way he would ever buy me a puppy. Despite the very tempting canine bribery, I’m too old-fashioned for that. As a friend, I would’ve loved to have him as a roommate. As someone I was interested in, moving in together was something I wasn’t willing to do. At the time, I played off his suggestion with a few jokes and never brought it up again, though I did think about it often enough. The fact that he moved in with her was expected. When it comes to getting men to want a relationship, I’m like The Closer. After they believe nothing will happen between us, the next person they find showing the slightest bit of interest turns into a long-term, serious relationship. It’s just another part of the J-MO (Jessica’s modus operandi), utterly predictable.
I commented with, “Cool, man. How are things going with that?”
“Good. We’re spending more time together, got some vacations planned, met the parents and she’s met mine…got a good head on her shoulders and believes in me.”
After he spoke, I thought that if you live together, you’re naturally gonna end up spending quite a bit of time together. Right? Hearing “good head on her shoulders” was also a bit odd to me. It sounds like something a parent, or mentor would say. Not how I would like to be described by a boyfriend, but whatever works, man.
As I stood up to dump the remaining broth into the sink, I simply added a, “That’s nice.”
“How are things in that department with you? Are you seeing anybody? Dating anyone?”
I hesitated for a second. While I wasn’t anything official to anyone, it’s not like there were no options either. Since the gloves were already off, I was tempted to divulge details that should not have any weight with Jay, though would probably still be hurtful. I knew better than that based on Em’s silence and took the higher road by not saying anything about the interactions between us. “Nah, man. My opinion of men isn’t the highest right now. I just don’t see the point. There’s not really any time for a guy between my work and projects, too busy.”
“Taking time to work on yourself and do what you’re interested in?”
“Yeah, pretty much, I guess. Not really into anything right now except the usual outings with buddies. Maybe it’s safer that way until I get a bit more clever. I mean, I already thought I knew what a good guy was, but apparently not. We both know how that turned out… Oh well, what are ya gonna do?”
I didn’t say I took the highest road.
“Ha, yeah. What are you gonna do?”
Tension and anger created from being considered a painful memory better left unresolved was taking over. The sharpness in my voice hinted that hitting “End Call” was about ten minutes past due. My comments became more blunt and the whole talk now felt like a big mistake. I knew better than to ask about things that hurt me; I knew better than to ask about his girlfriend; I should have known better than to call him. I suppose re-living the memory of Jay on his pedestal was my attempt to have a respite from mourning the loss of our friendship and the reality of the person he actually is. Every ounce of excitement over finally getting to speak to him had evaporated as soon as he told me I was basically a whim who was too messy for him to man-up and deal with.
“Alright, man. My lunch break is over, and I really need to get back to the lab. It’s been nice talking to you. Take care.”
I didn’t wait for a response before I hung up and, for the billionth time, conceded that I should have listened to The Malaysian.
When I arrived back at the lab, I said, “You were right. I shouldn’t ever have called. He never responded before because he’s a coward who’s only worried about how he feels. He said he cared about me, but he lied. He said he’d always be there for me, and he lied about that too. I hate liars. I hate cowards. It was a mistake to keep trying. I don’t even know why I…” I cut myself off before the tears could escape.
“I’m sorry my fren.”
“Nothing to be sorry about…it’s done.” And I meant it. Unfortunately, Jay and I weren’t on the same page that afternoon.
An hour later, I found a text message on my phone saying:
You know I was not going to say anything, but you thought you knew what a good guy was? I was your friend and you got mad at me and hurt when you finally liked me differently. This is why guys and girls cannot have a friendship. So please don’t insinuate that this is my fault because you were hurt. The way you treated me that day in the pub was b.s.
Uh-uh. No. Sir. If you think I’m going to agree with that, then you don’t know me very well. Apparently, I was the one that threw the first punch, but Jay had been waiting to rumble for a while.
Protect your balls and put up your fists.
It was go time.
