Bring me back

I

We were mere children when we met. Happy, naive, young and often alone but never ever lonely. The distinction between the two is weak, but it is there. We had plenty of friends on the side. We were actually quite popular at our respective schools. But a friend to all is a friend to none, and this becomes clear when you realise everyone in school sends a message to wish you happy birthday, but not a single one of them wants to do something small, like study after school or simply hang out.

That was how we became close. We met at a party, both of us sitting alone on the couch of some random dude we'd never met as everyone else around us were getting hammered and dancing to Crazy In Love. It's a great song, but I was perfectly fine with watching everyone else have their fun. I would soak it up for an hour only to match their vibe for about five seconds before returning to my seat on the couch. Then suddenly someone sat next to me. A girl. A beautiful girl whose personality just amplified her Venus-like state.

We talked and talked for hours, exchanging phone numbers in a drunken haze. Suddenly we were attached at the hip and not a day went by where I didn't see her face. Not if we could help it. We were done with the whole "let's see each other once a month and rot in bed on the days we don't meet up". Or the "we don't have to see each other every day, we have other friends". We wanted to see each other every day. She was my remedy, and I hers. If you could choose to be happy every day, wouldn't you?

We chose each other. Every day for years we chose certified happiness over anyone else. Until we realised one couldn't rely completely on their best friend for the rest of their life. Or perhaps we didn't realise it, just imagined it was better if we found someone else to settle down with. So we did. The both of us. With other men.

Now, ten years later after having no more contact than the annual christmas card and a few "Happy birthday, my love! Miss you lots", why did I react the way I did with a wedding invitation in hand? I had married first, I took the first step. I was in a hurry to get married and move forward while she waited patiently, yet here I was. Feeling like she betrayed me when she's the one responding to my actions. Or perhaps she just forgot about me and did what she truly wanted. I quickly pushed that thought away and crossed "can not attend", shoving the letter back into its envelope. We had never been anything more than close friends so my feelings weren't valid. But the thought of her not thinking of us, not remembering the way she'd had nightmares after our first fight, not remembering me... it was almost unbearable. And it shouldn't be.

I was still in my coat and boots, mindlessly walking around the house like I was waiting to leave. I wasn't going anywhere. Just couldn't bring myself to take them off. Eventually, around six, Michael came home. He was the principal at a middle school, and came home complaining about how the kids had been a pain in his ass all day, every single day. I owned a dance studio and worked as a ballet teacher. I loved my kids but I was not a girl who wanted kids of her own. It was ironic really, since Micheal had been badgering me about babies since the day we got engaged and had finally gotten his way. I love kids but don't want them, he can't stand kids over the age of ten but wants us to be the next Kardashians.

"Hey, honey. Did you just get home?" He asked, looking me up and down as he hung his coat up in the hall. I shook my head, leaning over the counter.

"No. No I came home a while ago. Just... I don't know, really", I said and combed my fingers through my hair, looking up at him shortly. After a few seconds of silence and a skeptical once-over by my dear husband, I resigned, took my coat off and threw it over one of the wooden barstools. They were white. Just like the walls. And the counters. And pretty much everything else in this house that wasn't a shade of grey or black, like the dark stone floors or the grey cabinets. Michael wasn't one for personality, he'd made that much clear. I wasn't really allowed an opinion.