A Girl Crush

I Never Thought It Would End Like This

It has been months since I've seen Alex. I haven't sent any emails to her. My head is full of thoughts of her. Wishes that I could be with her. Fantasies that she wants to be with me. Followed by pragmatic lectures to myself that the entire delusion is over. I need to let this go.

I know that there will be a ceremony in the building I work in for Indigenous History Month. I can't help but wonder if Alex will be there. I make plans to attend, while attempting to compartmentalize the decision.

I know I am torturing myself – wanting to see her when I should begin the process of feeling this heartache. I've been here before. It feels the same every time. Ridiculous. Dramatic. Unnecessary. Searing. As a peri-menopausal woman, I assumed I would never have to go through this again. But, anguish is not only for youthful souls.

The assembly has already started when I arrive in the auditorium. I quietly close the door behind me and find a place to sit near the back right. I am just in time for the first of two short films created by Indigenous filmmakers.

Midway through the films I spot Alex on the opposite side of the room. Her hair has moved in more of a blonde direction and goes well with the olive green blazer she is wearing. Her skirt is the same tone as her blazer and pairs nicely with her dark-hued heels.Her black rimmed glasses disrupt the profile of her face. It is no wonder I cannot commit her face to memory. Although, if I'm being honest, it's not her face that I will miss the most. It's how I feel when I encounter her. Buzzing. Alive. Relevant.

After the film there is a question and answer period with the filmmakers. What inspires them. What compels them to turn their life experiences into consumable art. Normally I am very interested in hearing what motivates an artist, but today my focus is diverted away from the stage and towards the other side of the auditorium.

When the presentation is over I slowly stand up and gather my belongings. My phone has fallen onto the floor, the shiny case easily to spot against the grey carpet. I steal a glance towards Alex and see that she has finished gathering her belongings. If I am going to say hello, now is the time.

I walk towards the left side of the room. The auditorium can easily accommodate one or two hundred people. Alex is far enough away that I can't read the expression on her face, but there is no doubt that it is her.

Walking towards her, I have no plan in mind beyond a simple hello. I've been trying to prepare myself for weeks to not have her in my life. The sweet torment that this unexpected crush has brought has been terrible for my ego. It has up-ended what I though I wanted in my life; what I thought I could live without. I thought I could exist and ignore the issues in my marriage. Meeting Alex has shown me that I am capable of developing feelings for another person, and has highlighted what I want from a life partner. The fact that she is married and straight has never left my consciousness. I have always known that what exists between us is fleeting and can be gone from my life at any time. The mystery has always been how it will end.

Only a few feet separate us now. Alex has started the slow exit, taking half-steps behind the crunch of people all trying to get out the same door. I lose sight of her for a second before finding her in the crowd again. Her hand reaches up towards her left cheek and hovers there, as if she is trying to hide her face. Her shoulder and head juts out to the right, where she spots a space in the throng of people. Alex darts into the crowd and weaves her way through.

A minute earlier, it appeared like she was stuck behind the crowd. Now, her feet move fast as she merges in with everyone. Being the tallest woman, she stands out. Within seconds she is at the front of the mass and she makes a quick exit through the grey metal doors. I abandon my course and find the nearest exit to me. Once in the main corridor, I scan the people hoping to see her.

I spot her just as she rounds the corner towards the exit on the north side of the building. I try to hurry before I lose her – perhaps she is using the washroom, I think. Once I reach the corner, it is obvious she has gone. I attempt a casual search of the ladies room, but Alex is nowhere to be found. I have just witnessed her running away from me.

Dejected rejection. My cheeks sting as if they've been slapped. I have always expected to say goodbye to Alex. Knowing her has always felt like a fleeting privilege. Shock. That's what I am feeling. I had envisioned hundreds of ways in which our friendship would end, but I never imagined it would be watching her run from me with such determined self-preservation. I want to feel angry.

I cannot blame her. She is right to cut me out of her life. There is nothing I can offer her but a marginalized existence that will pale to what she is used to. I am certain that whatever it is she has been looking for, I am not the answer. With me, she will have too many options. Choices that will diminish the privileges she likely isn't aware of having.

I already know that my least favourite memory of her will be watching her from behind as she scurries to exit my life.

I try to convince myself I am livid with her for running away from me. But anger isn't what I feel yet. I don't want to admit that I am still holding on to remnants of a faded hope. That she could want me the same way I desire her. Perhaps someday she will come back to find me. Even though I know none of this is true, I can't resist sending one final email.

I settle for a simple message that reads "Didn't I see you at the Indigenous History Month meeting yesterday? Hope all is well!"

I try to resist refreshing my screen to see if a response from her is in my inbox. I turn my laptop off. It isn't until the next morning that I see her reply. "I was there! Sitting right up front and trying not to cry. Hope all is well with you too!" she writes.

I know this is futile and only lengthening my torture. She is too polite to tell me to go away. I decide to tap into my anger and send one final email. Then I must leave her alone.

"I thought I saw you! I arrived late and was at the back. I was going to say hello, but you were out in a flash. You are perhaps one of the fastest human beings I've witnessed exiting an auditorium."

I know there is a snarky tone to my words. I attempt to soften it with a smiling face emoji at the end. I decide that it's alright if she is offended by my email. It will give her an excuse to not contact me again. I must sadistically end my own suffering and wait for my memories of her to fade.