I went to C’ville for my sisters graduation. I was down there for three days and I don’t know anyone there anymore. I know of one person who lives there, I’ve only met them once but due to the lovely power of the Internet (and them having a website) I can stalk them online. I tried to make contact with them to have something to do on Saturday night. Nothing came of it. But on Saturday afternoon while I was out with my mother I bumped into two people from my past.
It’s been years since I even saw them. They were, quite possibly, my two best friends at the end of high school. After high school some stuff happened and I ended up loosing contact with all my high school friends. Bad blood. And these two—their love and my friendship—was at the heart of the conflict.
I stopped and said hello to them. I got the cold shoulder from one. He talked but never looked at me after I said hello. We only talked for a few minutes. They have two kids now and they did not even introduce me to them. I would like to talk to them, to find out what happened, what I did that started the bad blood. I’ve always wanted to find out.
We all had to get going, but as I turned to leave he said they should get my number. So she took it down. I asked what they were going to do for the night and she said she was going to head down to the club. I said to give me a call and I’d join them. I did not take their number because I’m not sure if they really want to hear from me, so I decided to await their call.
The phone never rang.
This afternoon on my way back to the District I stopped along 29 North and walked through the headstones till I came to Joe’s grave [ confusion.cc ]. There is a little square of granite, flush to the ground that has his name on it. I did not really stop to think why I was there. I didn’t stay long. But it was a beautiful evening, the sun going down, the birds singing. Peace. Rest in Peace.
Seeing them, and the disappointment of not getting the call caused me to do a lot of thinking. A lot of memories returned to the forefront of my thoughts. Memories not forgotten but put away long ago. I have a lot of questions that I would have liked to get answered. Let the water flow under the bridge and put right whatever I can that is still wrong. But the ball is in their court.
They know my number. The choice is theirs.