12:02am - 2003-02-12
He didn't love me back.
I have a bad habit of falling for my closest friends. Most of the time, it works out - all of the guys I've dated were good friends first, and even when it didn't work out, we managed to stay friends, even if our friendships were a little more tentative, especially at first. There was one time, though, when it didn't work. When my heart got broken and I lost one of my two best friends all at once. And it was a long time before I recovered from that. A long time before I risked another friendship for love.
We met in grade ten and were friends from the start. I wasn't single when I met him and I enjoyed for the first time having an uncomplicated guy friend. We always had a good time togehter, and we were comfortable together, almost instantly. It was an easy, uncomplicated friendship that I never gave much thought to.
But, as time passed, I found myself single, and he grew into himself, starting to leave the geeky boy behind and starting to grow into a man. I looked at him differently, thought of him differently, but didn't really realise it until after high school. We'd both been dating other inconsequential people, and when those relationships ended, we gravitated towards each other.
University started, and we spent a lot of time together, clinging to the familiar in a world of unfamiliarity. We'd laugh ourselves silly over games of Mario Kart and get violent over lengthy Monopoly battles. It happened so gradually that I don't know if I even noticed. But then, our first Reading Week, we went to Vancouver Island to visit my other best friend. That was when I realised it. That week was perfect. The three of us made the ideal team, tromping through the forests and chasing each other down beaches. It was bliss.
That week, of course, ended, as they tend to do, and I came home painfully aware that I loved him. I don't think I was ever in love with him, exactly, but I loved him in a quiet sort of way. My 18th birthday rolled around, and he got me the perfect gift - a watch he'd picked because of an offhand conversation weeks earlier. I loved it. I still do. And a little spark of hope popped up in my mind.
My best friend came out to visit soon after my birthday, and the three of us again teamed up. I was busier then, though, and often left the two of them so I could run off to rehearsals or classes.
She left again, and finally, I wroked up the courage to confess. We sat in his car as we so often did, talking late into the night. The words stumbled out haltingly and he stopped me before I could finish.
"I know, Sarah. I know. I'm not blind. But I don't...I can't..."
"You don't feel the same way. It's ok. I know. Don't worry about it."
My cheeks were flushed, and I wanted a convenient chasm to swallow me up. I tried to act like it didn't matter, tried to pretend I didn't really care.
"It's nothing to do with you, honestly."
"Right, feed me the old 'it's not you, it's me' crap. Thanks."
"No, really. It's just that..."
"What?"
"I'm kind of in love with your best friend."
It broke my heart. But I knew to object would be to break both of theirs, and I figured I might as well save some heartache. I knew immediately that she felt the same way. How could I not have seen it? And so, I gave them my blessing. God, it hurt.
It hurt more, though, when mere weeks later, she cheated on him. It hurt even more when he, heartbroken, blamed me. We stopped talking then. He couldn't face either of us for weeks. I forgave her, unable to fathom losing them both. I wonder now if I should have chosen him. Especially after she stopped talking to me abruptly last year after 13 years of friendship. I should have known that somebody who could hurt him so easily could hurt me the same way.
It doesn't bother me so much now. It is far enough in the past that I don't think of it very often, and I think all three of us are better off as a result of the things that happened that summer. It only hurts in those brief moments when I remember that there was a time when I loved him, and he didn't love me back.
