"Do you want to hold my hand?" I looked down at his hand, extended towards me on the train ride home. In my mind, the clock was ticking. Every minute that went by brought me one minute closer to the day that he would leave Oswego, and he'd never have any reason to come back. It takes such a short time to get close to some people. Some
people you just meet, and for some reason know immediately upon shaking
their hand that they are someone one you want to know. And not know as in say hello to every once and a while, and occasionally share a conversation with in the lunch line, but really know. That's how I felt about Peter. From the second I met him, I knew I needed to know him. Really know him. And we did know each other. We really did, as much as you could know a person at 16 and 18.
We were sitting on the train back from Chicago. We had just spent the entire day taking pictures all over the city. We walked around all afternoon, went to the Cultural Arts Museum, and finished the day by having a picnic and a movie in Grant Park. We
sat on a blanket, eating cold pizza and watched an old Gene Kelly movie
on a big screen. We laid under the stars and looked at a glowing
skyline just to the left of us. It was a perfect day. Perfect weather, perfect location, and perfect friends. But with Peter, being close to him and being his friend wasn't enough for me. I always wanted it to be something more, because he was the first person I'd ever felt that strong draw to. He was the first man I'd ever met in my life that I was so fascinated with, any minute I wasn't with him felt wasted.
"I don't want to." I turned my head away and wiped the tears from my cheek. This was a normal thing for me at the time. When I was 16 years old, every thing felt so intense. Every
mood was amplified so much more because I had never felt these sorts of
things before that I had no idea how to process them. Nonetheless emotionally and physically control them. I did want to, though. I wanted to hold his hand from the moment I set eyes on his shaggy brown hair, and his Chuck Taylors. I wanted him to hold my hand, to hold me, to want me near him. He was with me, though. A lot of the time. We did things together, we talked to each other, and made each other laugh. We
spent time finding things out about one another, the things we liked
and didn't like. Sharing music, showing each other movies. But he never did those things. He didn't want to hold my hand, he didn't want to hold me, and he didn't want me near. At least not as much as I wanted to be near.
I
watched the side of the train bump and shake along the track, and
scanned the car to memorize the faces of the drunken Cubs fans sitting
below us on the lower deck. I looked up at his face, and narrowed in on his smile. It broke my heart, every time it shined at me I knew it was a smile that I could never keep, as desperately as I wanted to. But this time there was warmth, as I looked up into his eyes I knew that day was good. And
that there is a pain from watching someone you love slip away from you,
but there is an undeniable joy of having them in your life at all that
will always trump the pain.
I continued to cry, quietly. But felt better. Well
enough to lean over and put my head on his shoulder. There was never
going to be another Peter in my life, and I didn't know how much
longer I was going to have him around for, so I bit my tongue and
continued to pretend it didn't hurt. At least until the next time it broke me down.
That summer ended too quickly. And
I wish that I could remember every memory from that year, but I have
forgotten most of it. When you lose someone, the time to follow begins
to blur. I don't remember how much we talked
after he left for college, but I do remember how quickly the distance
grew between the two of us. And I remember,
vaguely, that Christmas when we stared at each other from across a Steak
n Shake table, desperately trying to find something to regain momentum,
but we failed. He slipped away from me just like I knew he would.
Its been 5 and a half years now. And I have completely stopped thinking about him on a day to day basis like you used to. He has become nothing more than a faint memory. And
even sitting down to write this makes me laugh, to think of those
things I felt and how normal those feelings have become to me. How quickly I can brush off unrequited attraction, and my higher tolerance to neglect and disappointment. But I can still also look back at it and smile, because he was just one of those people that I needed to be near. That I just needed to really know. And after last night when he showed up at my 21st birthday party after years and years of silence, I have learned some things never change.
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