P

I just ran into an old friend. He was the smartest, funniest, most intellectual (without being pretentious) best friend I've ever had. A professor, a teacher, a student, an artist. I wanted to BE him. He never told me why he stopped taking my calls or answering my emails, so when I saw him tonight, a year later, I sank into the bottom of a 2005 Chateau Latif. The bottle 6 of us "old friends" opened to celebrate a reunion of sorts. No one else had any knowledge of our affair. Not a love affair, but this deeper connection. And like those "affairs," it had been starting to show its age. The pressure from years of secret meetings only to discuss paintings, immigrant parents, the best light for taking photographs, & of course, love that (for me) remained elusive. I saw him moments ago and did something unlike me. I crossed the miles between us and asked why. Stupid move, I know. The answer, I also knew. We were hurting each other. I chose to forgive. He chose to forget. We, it turns out, were, are very different.