• “Hey, what’s that on your hand?”

    I look down and notice the words I wrote in pen a little earlier.

    “Oh, this is a song I really like,” I held up my hand so he could see it better.

    “I’m yours.” I quickly smiled at him and put my hand down. I had to look away, his stare was too intense.

    “Sounds like a nice song. . .” He trailed off and turned his head to continue gazing at the tree to our right.

    Something came through me then, a terrible, desirable urge to tell him how I feel. He wouldn’t understand, why do I bother? I’m fretting over nothing, why does this feeling come? We are best friends and nothing more.

    In the midst of my fretting, I must have brought attention to myself because Caleb looked over at me again.

    “You look uncomfortable, is everything alright?” He gave me one of his sincere, puppy dog, I-care-about-you-a-lot looks and I realized I must have been squirming in my seat and wringing my hands quite a bit the past minute to actually draw his attention to me.

    “Uh, it’s probably just these benches. . .” Well that was lame, he’s never going to believe that. How am I going to explain -

    “We could find somewhere else to sit.”

    I contemplated the idea, maybe walking would make it better to deal with, but of course, there was virtually nowhere else to sit in the park. Picnic baskets, family reunions, little children, and owners with their dogs as far as the eye could see. At least he offered.

    “No, it’s okay.” And with that, he shrugged and turned away.

    I’m going to get over this, I have to. I mean, how long can someone go on loving their best friend before they realize: “Best friends forever” is as good as it gets? Before they realize friendship is just as valuable?

    Why should I tell him that I love him?

    And then it struck me - why not?

    I looked over at him again with confidence practically radiating from my body.

    He glanced my way, apparently feeling a change in the atmosphere as well.

    “You know, that can also be literal.”

    I wouldn’t allow myself to look away from his eyes. He probably felt like I was looking through to his soul and I hoped I wasn’t intimidating him.

    As it turns out, he shifted his body my way to hold my gaze.

    “I don’t understand.”

    This was a question that could be answered without words which I was indeed thankful for. I’m not sure how long I can keep up this whole “glowing confidence thing.”
    So I simply raised my hand.

    He just barely whispered the words written there and traced the letters with one of his bony fingers.

    He finally looked up at me when he was finished.

    “You’re mine?”

    My confidence was definitely depleting fast and the burning glow now made it’s way to my cheeks.

    I nodded, for lack of a better way to say it; I was scared that if I tried to speak, nothing would come out and I would end up looking funny. . .so I kept my mouth shut.

    He surprised me though. Instead of turning me down right then or returning his feelings; he sighed. A long, almost sorrowful sigh as he sat back against the bench again. He closed his eyes and put his finger to his mouth. That was his famous position for thinking, but he was thinking hard about something; there was a crease in his eyebrows that rarely ever showed up. He never needs to think that hard to solve something.

    Apparently my confession has stumped him.

    After a minute of excruciating silence and anxious glances, he opens his eyes to look at me again. His eyes, they are now so gray and dull .Worry and concern has shadowed them and I can see my copied, worried and concerned, expression through them.

    There is a long pause before he begins to speak.

    “I release you from my grasp. . .”

    Shocked, no words came to mind.

    “What?”

    Of course that was all I could manage to say. It’s one of those absolutely helpless times where your mind is drowning in a sea of questions, but only one of them survives.

    “You are free, you are no longer mine.”

    He leaned back and closed his eyes again while I sat there like an idiot and choked up.

    Now I was completely at a loss; if I even tried to whisper something, my voice would squeak . I was sure of it. There was the awful sticky feeling at the back of my throat, tears were about to spill over, and my heart seemed heavier than it usually is.

    I felt like yelling back at him, “Why?!” but of course, I couldn’t.

    I can’t yell at him, every time I try I say sorry for being mean. Every time I become mad at him, I end up forgiving him. He tries to push me away purposely, but I keep holding on, blaming myself for everything.

    I can’t yell at him; it would hurt him.

    “I don’t want to be free.” I conjured up all the strength I still had in me to at least be able to walk away knowing why I wasn’t wanted.

    Again, he wasn’t expecting that.
    He was more than likely thinking about how I would stomp off and abandon our friendship and then find a message by me on his answering machine the next day.

    He took another long pause before looking at me again.

    He was terribly upset. I knew how much this was hurting him, as it was hurting me. He could not face me as easily if I was crying. In fact, if he wasn’t trying to explain something to me, he would have been on his knees swearing that he would never make me cry again. He would do anything in his power to make me happy.

    “I’m not good for you. . .”

    His voice cracked as he said this and made my heart sink even deeper. I desperately want to comfort him, but how can I do that if he won’t let me?

    “What do you mean? You’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

    “I wish I wasn’t.”

    When I winced, he did as well. Why did he have to be so blunt? If it was hurting him so much then why is he doing this?

    In that moment I began to cry.

    I couldn’t help, but notice how pathetic I must look. Tears streaming down my face, deliriously holding onto the only piece of thread that’s left of my sanity.

    Might as well fight for what is left.
    “Why do you say that when your eyes tell me something else?”

    Through most of my crying, he had his head in his hands and when he did look up, from the corner of my eye I could see that he was mad for making me upset. He wanted to fix it.

    “I don’t want to hurt you anymore more, Alice. . . I keep making you cry, you constantly blame yourself for the mistakes I keep making. You think you’re at fault, but you aren’t. You are not the reason why do the things I do. In fact, you’ve made me happier than I think I could ever be. . . That anyone could ever be.”

    He paused to take a breath and put his hands lightly on my shoulders, I guessed because I seemed out of it. How long have I been waiting for this confession?

    “Alice, I cannot return your feelings because I might end up hurting you more. It makes me angry when you are upset, I want you to be happy. Please understand, I’m trying my hardest.”

    I’m not crying anymore. I know he cares about me enough to be concerned about me and tries to do what’s in my best interest, always. I’ve never noticed how much he really cares. Here I am, waiting for him to return his feelings, and he is telling me how he doesn’t want to hurt me. He cares, he’s concerned. Is that not love in itself?

    “I understand.”

    He looks up at me and smiles. It’s a warm smile, and his eyes are bright again.

    “Are you ready to go home?”
    “Sure.”

    When I go to stand up, he catches me in a hug. It was nice and long, standing there in his arms made me feel warm. He began to softly chant in my ear, “Everything’s fine,” and that also made me feel better. After he walked me back to my house, my day was lighter and the heaviness of heart was replaced with a nice bubbly feeling.

    That night I dreamt of angels.

    The next morning I got a call from Caleb’s mother. She called me to tell me that Caleb had committed suicide the night before. Caleb’s death was the last thing on Earth I would have predicted. It happened so sudden, but what isn’t unexpected? We are walking through this world blindfolded, we are all bound to experience sudden tragedy no matter who we are.

    I felt so reassured yesterday. . . He made me feel like he would keep holding on, all of this was done and over with.

    He reassured me, however, so I would not be upset. So I would no longer cry for him. He lied to me, to protect me from the truth. He was trying his hardest, I will never doubt that, but nothing really was okay. He did it, to make me happy.

    Caleb was suicidal. His attempts in the past have left me and his family practically in pieces. We tried so much to help him, did as much as we could, but he needed so much more. He hurt me so much in the past. He didn’t want to hurt me anymore than he had. He got what he wished for; no more hurting, just a fresh scar that ages as I do, but never completely disappears.


    He left me a note as well:

    “Smile for the both of us, please. Get back the laughter and happiness from all of the times you’ve cried for me, all of the times you’ve helped pull me through. I must have been a nuisance. But know I truly cared about you Alice; I’ve contemplated this decision a million times in my head thinking if it would be the right thing to do. I don’t want you to hurt over me anymore. I have treasured and will never forget about the days you were mine. We had a lot of fun didn’t we? You were always mine, I knew deep down, but now it really is time to let go of you. I know it may be hard, but you will find a way without me, I’m sure of it. You have made me happier than I could ever be.
    I’ve always loved you,
    Caleb.”

    How could I possibly find a way without him? Just thinking about it was completely ridiculous.

    I felt like yelling at him, but I can’t; it would hurt him.