Rebound

When we met in the sandbox, we did not recognize otherness. Only that we both liked the red truck best. Only that there wasn’t enough time together. We built not just castles, but entire kingdoms as our mothers chatted on the playground benches. We carried our friendship through pre-school to kindergarten. Until you met Emily Marie Maze. You thought you were so clever calling her A-Mazing. You mooned after her through the year and into first grade – where you had different teachers, but the same recess. Then Emily announced loudly, on the playground she no longer liked you. She was going to marry Bradley Bindle. You were crushed, and you came to me, and we went to the playground, and I even gave you the red truck, because you seemed so sad. And you were still my best friend, so you should have the truck. You decided all girls had cooties, except maybe me, you still liked me. You kept the truck.

In junior high, Michael Williams Jr. asked me to the end of the year dance. It was my first dance, and even though I was sure that Michael couldn’t possibly "like" like me, I went to the dance anyway. My mom made my dress special; she even bought me a lip gloss. My shoes were my Sunday shoes. I’d slept with my hair in curlers, so it wasn’t so unruly. Micheal never showed up. But you were there, watching from the sidelines, and even though we never danced, when the whole horrible afternoon was over, and my mom came to get me, you asked if you could get a ride home and could we stop for ice cream. You even paid.

In high school one or the other of us was always going steady or breaking up. You lived one street over, and I could see the light in your window through the trees in our back yard. We made up a code we could send each with flashing our bedroom lights. It was nice to know someone was there. When Josh Miller got me pregnant right after graduation, you drove me across the state line, and stayed with me, rocking me all night long telling me it would be OK. Even though I felt nothing would ever be OK again. You reminded me that I was college bound, and there’d be time for children later. You said I would be okay.

We went our separate ways during college. I didn’t really date much. I focused everything on academics. You didn’t share your intimate details with me anymore. We’d occasionally meet when we were both home during breaks, but things were awkward between us in a way things had never been before. I was happy for you when I heard you were engaged. I sent a gift. I was out of town on a job interview the day of the wedding. I missed you and doubted I would ever have my friend back. We always been the rebound person learned too late I’d always loved you. When she left you, at the altar, you sought me to no avail. You’d realized you’d always loved me. You waited a year and a day before you said.
The red truck is on the mantelpiece next to our wedding photo.

— Lkai