Pride Apart

I agreed to see her but only because she caught me on facebook chat and basically insisted on it. Besides there was a magazine launch the next day and it was just the sort of thing she would want to go to. Just the sort of thing we used go to. The sort of thing that would be so natural and appropriate that why the hell not.

She was there in Oxford circus like we said but I barely spoke when we greeted, and I tried not to look too hard at all the effort she had made with the dress and the hair and the jewelry. So we went to the launch and indulged in some free alcohol and the company of bright young creatives sauntering through artwork and each other.

I was only going to stay an hour, I had other places to go and we were only supposed to say hi and do a small catch up. It didn't matter if she wanted to stay longer, I was not there to see her, she just happened to be there and it was imperative that she knew that. She had to know that, I would not let her think otherwise.

After a few drinks I saw she was wearing earrings in the shape of snakes and a made some stupid joke about eve the temptress, but she pretended not to get it, privately blushing, I am sure.

People drifted in and out and we said hello and shared humour and history and anecdotes until I was sure I was ready to leave, but then the party wrapped up and I nearly said Later On but somehow everyone drifted into the bar opposite for more fatal fluid and she said why not and I thought why not and we all went into the bar for drinks even though I didn't need to see her it had been too long and there was too much unsaid, but why the hell not.

Amber passed through me, light touches, old jokes, bursts of humour from a place I knew not, at once familiar and distant at the same time and before I could think how she was apologising. For how she acted. She was a different person then. I said that's fine, no it wasn't fine, it was fine don't worry about it, really. Make amends, make amends, yes let's why not? Everyone does it now. Closure is nice for some and we say nice things and again the laughter and faint familiarity and everyone moves outside now. It's all over, time to go home and we embrace, naturally, because why the hell not it's nice and we're young and it's late and it's easy with some to hold a gaze, for a few extra seconds.

A quick hand hurries us into a mini van because we're all off elsewhere, another bar for dancing and fun and drinks and what's wrong with dancing? Nothing, we find out as I take her for a spin, where she glides like someone who knows how. Another embrace because why not, a drink because why not, a joke because why not.

And then, before we realise, the others have gone. The bar is ready to close and we're still here. Why? Sometimes things just happen. Well, we could go to mine, We're young and close and unbound and the bar is closing and the night is winding down to my place, three buses later.

Chatting and catching up and being silly until she pulls out the futon to stay on because we're young and beautiful - am I? - and she goes downstairs to get changed and do lady things and I dim the lights because why not, and we're only friends, and I should have gone somewhere else and I don't know why she's here really but here is she is, back and talking while we lie on the futon and I stroke her hair because what's in stroking hair? And move in for contact but no, she pulls away and I know it's only a game like it used to be and it can't be too easy or that would seem wrong, and the beer and the jokes and the fun and I move in smiling for a kiss, and she pulls back. No, please. I have a boyfriend.

And I laugh, a silly spurting giggle that goes on for some time because ah yes, this is her, this is still the one I knew. And I stroke the hair because why not and she talks of friendship fun and times had and times lost and hurt and insult and making amends amends amends and I laugh still. Why? She asks, a nervous laugh? If only she knew, if only I could only say, and speak the truth but I can't, it would be to hurtful, too unfair. Too raw and scathing and blunt.

I stand up and say that some people have loyalties and if they do they should stick to them and not go to stay over at the houses of people whose houses they've stayed at before. This is cool and frank and honest and faintly critical and perhaps too much because she says that's weird.

I have made things weird. She must leave. I look up tube times on the internet while she puts her contact lenses back in. Smiling, gloating with some queer triumph, quashing old rejection and stealing ahead with new pride, I escort her downstairs and with a sad sorry smile wave her goodbye into the chill waking dawn.