Coffees with Luke & Audrey

XXIII

“She never utters a sound even when she's crying, and that makes me a little sad. Doesn't seem right. When you cry, people should hear you. The world should stop.”

― Libba Bray

When you don’t see someone for a certain period of time, you begin to forget the little insignificant quirks and characteristics about them – details and habits you wouldn’t recognise had you not known them.

She couldn’t remember the precise location of his dimples or whether his eyes were a shade of dark chocolate or caramel or which side his lips turned when he half smiled. And she realised that life was fragile, like trying to tear tissue paper in a straight line. The slightest glance away, no matter how short, and you could look down again only to see you’ve starting ripping through the centre.

Relationships were like that too.

She thought of her best friend from primary school. Her name was Tiara, and before they had started high school she’d promised they would always be friends and they would always sit together on the bus. They used to sit side by side and laugh loudly and have such interesting conversations that on more than one occurrence almost made Tiara miss her stop. Only it wasn’t long until Tiara, who had always been better with people than her, met new friends who started catching the same bus, and before long they offered her to sit with them. She had smiled at Audrey and told her that it would be just this once. The following week it happened again, and then again and again. She started sitting with her new friends some days and Audrey on others and as time passed Audrey turned into the second choice. Eventually Tiara sat with her friends up until they got off, where she would switch seats.

Then one day, as she moved her bag to the floor, she watched Tiara say goodbye to her friends, waited for her to move seats.

But she did not move to sit with Audrey, nor did she the next day or the day after that and because of class changes they didn’t see each other much and then another day at lunch she did not show up at their usual spot and the few times they had exchanged brief conversation she smiled less.

Then it went from not sitting together to short goodbyes and hellos when they ran into each other to acknowledging smiles to nothing at all. And somehow Tiara turned into just another face in the hallway, just another person on her bus, just another person who she knew nothing about anymore.

When they graduated, Audrey had tried finding her, to wish her luck out there with whatever she wanted to do with her life. She found her amongst a large group of people all crying and hugging each other, went to say goodbye when Tiara’s gaze met hers. It was over in two seconds and she was moving away into another group of people as though she were a stranger. Audrey never saw her again.

She thought now, as she sat on the back porch listening to crickets chirp, of all the couples divorced, all the friendships lost, all the family separations, and wondered if every relationship had its expiry date. If in the end you really were meant to be alone.

The movement behind her was the only warning she received before her father sat himself beside her. She chanced a questioning glance at him that he did not meet. Neither or them spoke for long seconds. 

“How you holding up?” he asked finally.

She thought of telling him that she was fine, that if she could deal with her brother leaving then she most certainly could deal with this. The words never quite made it past her lips, a lump in her throat that gave her the impression she would cry if she tried.

“I’d tell you it gets better with time, but you and me both know that’s a load of bullshit. It does fade though,” he added, gentler to overrule the bluntness of his first statement, “but the ache’s always going to be there. Lingering. Never quite whole again.”

Another long silence.

“Why do people always leave?” she asked, the question being spoken before she could process it. “And I don’t mean just me. I mean everyone, everywhere.” She looked at her father. “Is it even possible to be in someone’s life without losing them?” 

Her father looked out into the night, at the stars twinkling overhead. “I think there’s at least one person out there for everyone. Someone who’ll stay. A friend, partner, family member. There’s always someone who cares. A lot of the time people forget that.”

She pursed her lips. “Do you really believe that?” Her eyes were on him, and the smile that crossed his face was sad when he looked at her.

“I have to, honey.”