drifting apart

I had a dream last night, a vivid full-color dream about an old friend of mine from high school.

I've mentioned this friend before in my blog, maybe even more than once. I don't know why he's so important to me. Well, he's not-- I mean I haven't seen him since April of 2004 (I remember the exact date and time and reason), and we only send a random email maybe 4 times a year. Despite that he pops into my mind often and into my dreams even more often.

A bit of him must reside somewhere inside a bit of me, and that leftover trace checks in on me on a regular basis. I can't remember anymore if we were really as good of friends as I think we were. Maybe I made it all up, maybe we were just acquaintances and I've romanticized our relationship, turned it into, in my memories, more than it ever was. But I don't think so. He's probably a different person now, completely different like I am. We probably wouldn't even get along. No, we would. We would.

We met at the end of sixth grade. He had a goofy bowl cut and wore whatever his mom put him in, and I was the shy, lanky girl transferring schools. We both joined the middle school student council and by eighth grade we were pretty well inseparable, at least in the sense that we secretly liked each other, stolen glances and brushes of the hand, the first person we went to when we got to school in the morning, leaning around the lockers waiting on the bell. We didn't talk about that though, never, we were only ever friends. He moved after eighth to go to boarding school up north. 

I remember his going away party, kids running around acting like the fools we all were. He walked over to a couple isolated patio chairs and motioned me to follow. I still remember my heart leaping into my throat, just knowing that he was going to tell me something serious, admit his feelings, or at least express how much he'd miss me in particular. But this annoying girl that used to follow me around everywhere did what she did best, and followed. I feel like I missed out on something momentous there, a life-changing moment that didn't happen, and I wonder what that life would have looked like if it had, if I had gotten the chance to follow that path instead of this one. He was able to slide his address to me later, and we were pen pals while he was away.

He came back to my school in 11th grade, boarding school not exactly a good fit for him. He was changed, I was changed. We tried to rekindle those feelings, but they weren't there anymore. We even went on a date, although neither of us called it a date. But what else is dinner and a rented movie at an empty house for a couple of teenagers? I told him about my eighth grade crush and we laughed, but by the end of the night he was reading the newspaper and I was throwing popcorn at him, teasing him for his old bowl cut. There was no romance, only great friendship, although there always a lingering trace of those old feelings, for me anyway. Not enough to act on, or even think about, but feelings like that don't just disappear, ever I think. But from then on, there was no mention of us as anything other than best friends, and we were happy that way.

We drifted apart in college. I started dating someone he didn't like at the end of high school, and he went off to Texas to school while I stayed around here. I didn't understand the importance of him then, as much as I wish I had. Once that's gone it's so hard to get it back, especially when we're so far away from each other. 

In eighth grade I didn't know what this word meant, but by 11th of course I did: I think he might be gay. There's just little things, motions, and the fact that he's never had a girlfriend, that lead me to that conclusion. He used to know the dance, every bit of it, to NSync's Bye Bye Bye, not that that proves anything. He lives in DC now.  His pictures on facebook always seem to contain more males than females, but that's not proof either. 

It wouldn't matter to me, of course. I just want him back as a friend. I want him to know how a part of him still lives in me, but I don't know that he'd understand. He probably would, he's probably feeling the same about me, at least in the perfect world that exists in my head he does. I don't know that my husband would understand. It's a different kind of love I have for him, a historical, brotherly love. Maybe that's it, I want him to be gay, so that I can have them both with no consequences. 

We're facebook friends and I just messaged him. Nothing serious, just "how are you." I suppose that's the first step. I don't remember what my dream was about anymore, just that when I woke up I had this lingering feeling of him having been there, the feeling of being understood in a way that only someone who's known you that long through that many stages of your life can, acceptance and comfort. It's lasted me most of the day, which is nice.