Tender (Book 1 - Complete)

Chapter 4 - Lynn

I watch Jamie leave the shop with his two friends, a feeling of complete failure unraveling into my nervous system. Now that he's gone, I can finally breathe again. It's not a breath of relief though, but rather, a breath of regret.

This was not at all how I've hoped our first real interaction after five years would go down. I'd wanted to initiate things, apologize and then hug it out, but his arrival at the ice cream shop threw me completely off. I'd greeted him like everything was hunky-dory. Of course that rubbed him the wrong way. I can't say I'm surprised at his coldness. I deserve it. But, I'd planned on being a little more sympathetic about his feelings. I wanted him to understand that I knew he was angry, and I wanted him to know that it was okay.

Instead, I'd brushed it off with a stupid 'hi' and a 'how are you?' If he didn't loathe me before, then I'm certain he does now. How ignorant could I be?

In a way, I feel as if I've just lost any chance of reconciliation.

I slump into the stool behind the counter, leaning my head back against the wall behind me. A moment later, the brunette—Peggy, I believe—returns. I didn't even realize that the blonde girl was still here until I see Peggy return to their table, diving immediately into some sort of serious, hushed conversation.

I can't make out a word, and I don't really care what they're talking about. My mind is too wrapped up in my own problems. My thoughts drift back to my childhood and the friendship Jamie and I once shared. He was always there for me. In a school of a couple hundred kids—tiny, I know—it was always just the two of us. We had other 'back up' friends; people we'd hang out with if one of us couldn't make to school one day, but typically, it was just the two of us.

We met in third grade—he was in fourth—and we bonded like chocolate to milk. Back then there was no stress about feelings. We played in the dirt together, climbed trees together, and trusted each other. Neither of us could have ever predicted how things would turn out.

Truthfully, I hate myself for not saying goodbye. My grandma had had a heart attack, and my mom, thinking she might not have time to waste, threw three suitcases together and booked the first flight out of the US. We were in Thailand within forty-eight hours of learning about my grandma's declining health.

There was no way we could have known that she'd bounce back and last another four years before her heart gave out on her for good. It's not that I regret being there for her, I just regret not calling Jamie to tell him the situation. Life had been a hurricane of nerves and panic from my mom, and my dad and I had taken it upon ourselves to create the most calming environment that we possibly could.

By the time I found a second to contact Jamie, it'd already been a week. My mistake then was sending him a Facebook message, informing him that I was gone. He'd responded almost instantly, his reply urgent with a sense of panic woven into the simple message of 'what the heck, Lynn? Why didn't you say anything?'

I'd explained our situation, which he forgave quickly, and then told him we'd probably be back within a few months. But as the weeks past, and our interactions became less frequent, it became more and more difficult to stay in touch. He grew distant, his messages short and emotionless. I knew I'd screwed up. He'd given up waiting for me to return and there was nothing I could do about it.

Within nine months, the contact ended completely. I'd uttered a meek 'hello' to him the first time I'd seen him at the beginning of this school year—to which he blatantly ignored—but other than that, today has been the first time we've communicated since we stopped talking.

I guess I should be thankful that he didn't see me and turn right around on his heels. The fact that he'd spoken to me, with only a hint of animosity in his tone, should have given me a surge of hope, but it didn't. Maybe I was too hopeful about our friendship, but I'd dreamed of things going so much differently.