A Year Shy of a Decade

Dear BearVault, 

It hurts to think of him. I remember meeting him on a beautiful July day in Portland. We were signing a lease. I was on crutches and about to break up with my boyfriend at the time. We moved in the next day and I sat on the floor of his room. We talked for hours and time passed too quickly. I told him I wanted so badly to up and leave and not tell anyone, feeling too inspired by Chris McCandless and Paper Towns. We weren’t friends yet, but he asked me, so sweetly, “Do you think you might hurt a few people if you just left?”

We spent inordinate amounts of time together. We were best friends, truly, and nothing more. He taught me how to raft guide and I took him backpacking. By the end of the summer we spent raft guiding together, I fell in love with the water -- something I’d always been afraid of. He took me out dancing for my 21st birthday, knowing that even though I loved the wilderness, the other half of me belonged on a dance floor. 

We graduated and moved to Australia; him to Cairns, and me to a small town in Tasmania. We wanted more summer to continue raft guiding, so we went to the other hemisphere. We met up on Thanksgiving and ate Syrian food on the beach. 

He moved to Russia, and I moved to Los Angeles. I moved to Montana, and he did too. The year we spent reunited was lovely. We met up every week to watch an Avengers movie. When I got Covid, we watched Ant Man separately. Our goal was to finish with End Game before he headed off to Baltimore for a fantastic job. 

When Christmas rolled around, he gifted me two shirts that he described as “him sized,” since I always insisted on wearing his flannels. My heart squeezed and I loved him. 

He moved to Baltimore, and I moved to Morocco, and then the Emirates. When I was ending things with Red Pep, he is the first person I sought out. I loved his girlfriend immediately, before I even met her. She picked me up from the airport and graciously deposited me in his arms. It had been two years since I last saw him in person, and our regular video calls didn’t do his beard justice. I loved her immediately. She brought out the best in my best friend. My heart squeezed.

I sent her a card for the Lunar New Year along with the best tea from Missoula. I sat at the wine bar and ordered my favorite syrah, and joined the video call Pelmeni and I scheduled. I cried immediately when he told me his girlfriend is uncertain of me, nervous of my existence, thinks I’m possessive, and that he therefore needs to take a step back from our friendship. I told him I love him, I love him, and if he needs to not be friends with me to marry her, then so be it, he has my blessing. We are best friends, and I’m so lucky to have his friendship for any length of time. He said he is so lucky too.

I sent him an email he never responded to. When June came by, I wondered if I am someone he would want a phone call from on his 30th birthday. I didn’t call. I hope the month of June will pass and I won’t recall which day his birthday is. I hope June is full of other birthdays worth celebrating, other anniversaries to mark time, a better solstice. 

I hope he marries her and gives her the best life she could imagine. I hope she wakes up and means it when she says good morning. I hope the month of August passes for him and my birthday won’t sting. I hope he never thinks of Missoula or bike riding or yellow doors. I hope he never develops a taste for coffee or Ariana Grande. I hope he never wonders what time zone I’m in.

I keep wondering, “Do you think you might hurt a few people if you just left?”

In friendship, always, 

Osali