Say hello, wave goodbye
Dec. 26th, 2005 06:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zoetropeIt's a funny thing, trying to resurrect a friendship. Especially one that was as blurry and indistinct as ours was. At the same time knowing each other intimately, and not well enough to be impolite, anymore. Things still too tentative, like new skin. Seeing if we fit into each other's lives again.
Just heard a joni mitchell song and couldn't remember her name and thought of you! How are you? Cx
It was the moment I'd been waiting for for over a year - almost a year and a half - and when it came it was the last thing I was expecting.
What a surprise to hear from you! I replied, lying back down on the creaky hostel bed. I'm fine. How are things in Stepney?
We arranged to meet up and get drunk.
"Do you think you've changed?" I asked her.
"Only that I can now see how difficult I am," she replied. "I don't make any effort to change it, but I am aware of it."
"I think I've changed," I said. "I'm more confident. Less willing to take any shit."
"When I told people we were meeting up," she said, lighting a cigarette, "They said we wouldn't get on anymore. And I guessed we'd either get on like we always did, or we would hate each other."
I looked at her across the table, wearing mis-matched tops with butterfly prints on them, hair loose, cigarette in hand.
"The work Christmas party is coming up," she said, finishing her fourth or fifth glass. "I'll consider it a success if I don't get really drunk and end up making out with someone like my plane is going down - like in that Seinfeld episode? I think that's the only reason I started dating Andy; because we made out so embarrassingly at last year's work party that I had to fake a relationship to make it okay, and it just kind of stuck."
"How romantic," I said, eating the glass.
It wasn't until we were very drunk that we talked about anything at all.
"I wanted to text you," she slurred, making her wineglass dance precariously on the tabletop. "But I thought it would be... presumptuous or something."
She said, "When I told my friend at work we were meeting up, she said... I think I must have made it sound like you were an ex-boyfriend. 'Someone I used to spend a lot of time with'... Huh." Her voice drifted off, and she didn't finish the thought.
I feel like everything back then - the depression, the job, moving home three times, her - broke me in two. Now that I've fit myself back together again, smoothed away the cracks, and she's back and I have to be the new, reassembled me, and the old, unbroken me, all at once.
"Were you drunk, when you texted me?" I asked her.
"Yeah," she said, laughing. "I had to be."
Just heard a joni mitchell song and couldn't remember her name and thought of you! How are you? Cx
It was the moment I'd been waiting for for over a year - almost a year and a half - and when it came it was the last thing I was expecting.
What a surprise to hear from you! I replied, lying back down on the creaky hostel bed. I'm fine. How are things in Stepney?
We arranged to meet up and get drunk.
"Do you think you've changed?" I asked her.
"Only that I can now see how difficult I am," she replied. "I don't make any effort to change it, but I am aware of it."
"I think I've changed," I said. "I'm more confident. Less willing to take any shit."
"When I told people we were meeting up," she said, lighting a cigarette, "They said we wouldn't get on anymore. And I guessed we'd either get on like we always did, or we would hate each other."
I looked at her across the table, wearing mis-matched tops with butterfly prints on them, hair loose, cigarette in hand.
"The work Christmas party is coming up," she said, finishing her fourth or fifth glass. "I'll consider it a success if I don't get really drunk and end up making out with someone like my plane is going down - like in that Seinfeld episode? I think that's the only reason I started dating Andy; because we made out so embarrassingly at last year's work party that I had to fake a relationship to make it okay, and it just kind of stuck."
"How romantic," I said, eating the glass.
It wasn't until we were very drunk that we talked about anything at all.
"I wanted to text you," she slurred, making her wineglass dance precariously on the tabletop. "But I thought it would be... presumptuous or something."
She said, "When I told my friend at work we were meeting up, she said... I think I must have made it sound like you were an ex-boyfriend. 'Someone I used to spend a lot of time with'... Huh." Her voice drifted off, and she didn't finish the thought.
I feel like everything back then - the depression, the job, moving home three times, her - broke me in two. Now that I've fit myself back together again, smoothed away the cracks, and she's back and I have to be the new, reassembled me, and the old, unbroken me, all at once.
"Were you drunk, when you texted me?" I asked her.
"Yeah," she said, laughing. "I had to be."
