A Kind of Love Story

“You know what?”
I looked at him, his head leaning back against the red brick wall and his eyes closed.
“What?”
He smiled, although I thought I could see something other than mirth there in his expression. I took a sip from my water bottle.
“I decided that when I came here, I would fall in love.”
I sputtered, turning to him to see if he was serious. His dark eyes were open now and he was watching me from the side, as if to monitor my reaction. Seeing my open shock, his smile widened.
“Don't worry, I'm not talking about you. I've known you too long to love you as anything other than a friend.”
“Ohh, are you friend-zoning me? How offensive.”
He laughed, deep and sincere. Then it kind of cut out and he was looking at me seriously now. His eyes were filled with some emotion that I couldn't read. I found myself unable to meet his strong gaze with my own half-heartedness.
“I do like you. I just couldn't like you as anything other than what you've been to me. Not only could it ruin our friendship, but it would probably hurt both of us in a way you couldn't imagine.”
I swallowed, finding my mouth dry. I suddenly didn't want to be there. I wanted to be at home, curled up on the sofa reading, not having a conversation like this with my best friend. It made me want to cry.
“Don't look so upset.”
He leant forward, resting his arms on his knees. He was watching me with a hint of concern, but mostly with interest.
I frowned a little, not appreciating his perception.
“I'm not really. This is just a weird conversation. Why are you telling me this?”
He looked across as the other wall, towering and cold.
“Hmm, I wonder why.”
“That's... not helpful.”
He grinned, then stood. Now he towered over me.
“I know. The fact is, I had decided that it would be good for me to fall in love. It's something people have to do right? Why shouldn't I?”
“I guess you're right. It just seems a little... drastic to announce it to your self, consciously. I thought it was supposed to just 'happen'. That's what people say.”
He was watching me again. I found myself unable to stand with him, my legs had decided not to work. I had never been one to think of love, not really think about it. It didn't seem worthwhile to focus on something that was so disputed: if it existed, if there was a set period of time you could love, if it lasted forever.
Besides, if love was supposed to 'happen', why not just wait for it to do so rather than worrying about when?
He leaned against the wall again, but remained standing, and crossed his arms. His deep eyes seemed to be searching for something on the other side of the room. We remained like that, in silence, for a long time. That kind of thing happens when you're best friends, you just cut off and go into a comfortable, contemplative silence.
At last, his eyes stopped searching and he turned to me once more.
“But I wonder why you haven't decided to fall in love. If it's conscious, then isn't it easier to pursue?”
I smiled, surprised we were still on that subject.
“I already said it's an occurrence, nothing more.”
“Sure, but I'm pretty certain it'd be easier to find if you watched for the signs. What if you don't look and therefore miss it? What if you miss your only chance?”
I tilted my head to lean on my shoulder.
“I see what you're driving at. I guess you just have to be prepared, but not looking for it.”
“I see.”
Silence once more. Although this time, I began to feel an uncomfortable twinge in the back of my mind, as if something, some thought, was trying to be born into my consciousness, as if I were about to lose something precious.
Sighing, I decided not to contemplate the feeling anymore and stood, making my way over to the bed.
“I'm going to sleep now. You can stay over if you like.”
He shook his head, his eyes full of something unidentifiable.
“No, thank you. I'll go home.”
We left it there. I didn't consciously believe that conversation to go any further then, I didn't think it was important.

I had not seen him for over a week when he finally called me.
We took different classes but usually he still made time to contact me so we could meet up after they had finished. I never called him. He had never given me his number and I had never asked for it.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and felt a twinge of anger, seeing his name on the display.
Pushing the 'accept call' button, I put the phone to my ear and, with an unconcealed irritation, spoke into the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to meet up today after classes?”
An unusually normal question. He seemed to be pretending he hadn't avoided me. I guessed it wouldn't do for me to be the only annoyed one, so I swallowed my hurt pride and forced a smile, even though he couldn't see it.
“Sure. The usual place?”
“Yes. I... have something to tell you.”
I felt a pang in my chest at that, as if I'd been stabbed with an ice-cold needle. I felt a sense of some impending.... catastrophe, one that could no longer be avoided. I realised I was clutching my shirt and I could feel perspiration on my forehead.
I could only manage a stutter in reply.
“S-sure... I'll... see you then.”
I hung up quickly before he could speak anymore.

It bothered me now, this feeling I had, previously, been able to easily able to ignore. It felt like something swelling and growing inside of me that would soon burst out.
My breathing was ragged and I had to knead my chest to stop the pain there. I didn't want to meet with him anymore. I wanted to go home and sleep.
But it had to be done. If I didn't go, he would phone me and question me and, if I turned my phone off, he'd come round to my house and my mum would let him in...
There was no escape.

I was greeted by a smiling face when I opened the door to the second floor lecture hall, but it was not the face I had expected.
A girl stood before me. She had long, dark hair which was restrained by a silver clasp that complimented her dark blue eyes. We were similar in height but she carried herself gracefully, as if gliding, when she skimmed the distance between the door and the sofa where my friend sat. I shuffled over to the chair opposite them and took a seat, my hands clasped before me.
“Hello. You finally made it.”
His deep eyes bored into me, as if he knew I had had reservations about coming. Of course, he couldn't know for sure and I wasn't about to reinforce any ideas he had about being correct in his assumptions.
I smiled, naturally and easily.
“I'm sorry I'm a little late. I had to pick up a jacket from my room. It's gotten a lot colder.”
Not a complete lie. I had circled back to my room after the phone call, but to kill time rather than to get a coat.
Looking at his expression, I was sure he didn't believe me.
However, no matter what his doubts were, he obviously wasn't too concerned as he quickly changed the subject.
“How rude of me. This is Marcia.”
I looked at her. I looked and looked. Her smiling lips that were almost a smirk, her long hair, he elegant walk.
I felt the loss. I knew now what I had warned myself of before.
I hated her.

I remembered something my friend had stated one day. He has been a little obsessed by the thought of love ever since he was young.
He told me:
“Intellect makes a good friend. Passion makes a great partner.”
I had frowned, as was my way, and questioned him on this, believing myself to be intelligent enough to understand his philosophy.
He had grinned awkwardly.
“Well, I'll put it this way: you make a good friend but you'd be a lousy partner.”
I had walked off in a huff until he had consoled me by playing a game of cards.

I lay on my bed, my gaze drifting aimlessly from walls to ceiling to floor.
I sighed, turned onto my side, curled up, slept.

I remembered the story my mother had told me, of how she had come to marry my father.
She had sat me next to her and began talking suddenly, incessantly. She produced a torrent of words that I was too young to understand and too afraid to stop.
“As soon as I turned twenty-one, I decided to get married.”
This statement began the story. I was surprised, of course, as this had come out of nowhere. I didn't interrupt to tell her I had just been about to perfect a card trick.
“It was just after I left university, studying English, with a future full of hope and a mind crammed of sixteen years worth of knowledge. I had previously planned to go straight into teaching in a local primary school, but the sudden death of my friend changed all that.
She was twenty, a year younger than me, and had had cervical cancer for over three yeas that had finally become terminal. I had been one of the last people she had seen before she died and the last person she had had a conversation with.
The day had been warm, with a light breeze and brilliant sunlight cascading over us as we sat in her garden, drinking the tea her carer had provided and discussing our school life.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, came the statement that changed my life forever.
“I'm going to die in two days time.”
I just sat there for a moment, too stunned to speak.
“E-excuse me?”
She smiled, sympathetic, as if I was incredibly dim.
“I can feel it. I know that on Saturday I will die.”
“How....?”
I was, of course, very upset by this turn. I loved my friend and had known her since before we turned twelve. Hearing her speaking of such morbidity made my heart ache.
“Oh, don't be sad!”
She placed her hand on my arm comfortingly. I found it so inappropriate, that she, the terminally ill one, would be comforting me, who had my whole future ahead.
“I'm not sad that I'm dying, you know. Oh, I was at first, but then I believe that anyone would be, it's what we've been told – that death is a bad thing. I believe, though, that life without meaning, such as the life I now lead, is meaningless. At least death has meaning.”
She leaned back and smiled a little at small bird, I think it was a sparrow, landed on the ground near us.
“I only have one regret too. Not bad really, I'm sure many other people have more regrets than that at my age.”
I was only able to nod at the time, tears stinging at my eyes.
“I wish I had fallen in love and gotten married.”
I blinked. It was a terribly unexpected remark. My friend had never seemed keen on the idea of even having a boyfriend, let alone a husband. She was always the person who just sat with you and chatted amiably to your partner and you, but was always single. She was the 'friend' kind of person and I found it difficult to imagine her as anything other than a friend to anyone.
“I just wish I had experienced what people call 'the most wonderful feeling', you know? I'd say that's the only thing I'm sad about really.”
She looked at me suddenly and laughed.
“Of course, I'll be sad to not be able to see you anymore and to cause you and my parents so much grief! But that can't be helped, can it? It was inevitable that I would die around this point, at least I believe so. I'm not a person who was going to grow old. It wouldn't have suited me well. I just wish I had known sooner, so that I was able to fulfil that final desire.”
After that, we had parted ways, me concerned she was, in her fear of death, attempting to find a point of control and just guessing when she would die to make herself feel better.
Unfortunately, I was wrong. On that Saturday at 3:45pm, my friend flung herself from the roof of her house and subsequently passed away.”
She stood abruptly and walked out of the living room, leaving me sitting there alone.

“Thanks for breakfast!”
I smiled at my partner. They returned it with a little wave as they walked out of the front door.
I stood, alone, by the sink, my hands submerged beneath the soapy water. I pulled them out and dried them in silence.
They looked different now. There were more creases and the veins were more prominent. A few callouses showed the hard work they had seen, as if the blemishes were marking time.
I placed a hand to my heart. I wondered if there was something there too, marking the past. I wondered if his face was etched there, unmovable.
I started to laugh. The laughter rose up from somewhere deep within me, filled with a bitterness that was nearly impossible to distinguish.
It echoed up and up, carrying itself higher and higher.
I wondered if he could hear it where he was now.