“Untitled”
A short story partially based on
true events that never happened
By: Bucky Adams
PrisonerFan48@yahoo.com
If you withhold information from someone, is that the same as lying to them? He and I both competed for her attention and affection. She had been my friend for a long time, but never saw me as anything more. Not even potentially. And she had just met him recently. She even let me know that she was interested in him. I gave her every reason in the world to go out with me and not him. She said she would need time to think it over. And during that time, he came up to me. He decided to push his luck and told me that he was going to rape her when he gets the chance.
It wasn’t until two days later that we all met up again. And she said she had made her decision, but it wasn’t me she chose. I was shocked at her choice. There was an actual depth to our friendship, a foundation. I was almost positive she would choose me. She saw the expression on my face and told me to give her one good reason why she should choose me and not him. This was my chance to tell her what he was planning to do. But instead, I just tried convincing her with all my heart everything I had to offer. But, she made her decision, to the point of walking away with him, hand in hand.
The next morning, she called me up. She was crying. We talked back and forth for a very long time, like we used to do. I listened to everything she had to say, with an open heart. When she mentioned that he raped her, I told her passively that I knew about it already. Her crying turned to yelling. She wondered how I could possibly know about it. And when I told her, she asked why I didn’t tell her. I knew she wouldn’t understand my reasoning. If I told her, she would choose him just to spite me. And I didn’t want to reduce our friendship to that. I was not going to affect her free will, either. Also, if I told her, I might appear selfish. No matter what I did, the consequences would almost always be negative. And others viewed it as such.
She had told our circle of friends, and I was put in “social exile”, all because I did what I thought I should. Was the decision I made really that bad? Was what happened to her even my fault? If he had not told me what he was going to do, would the events still have transpired? After all was said and done, there was no one to spend time with, no one to have a meal with, I was truly alone. I was worse than being alone actually. I was ignored, shunned, and outcast. When I sat at a table in the library or anywhere else, all others at the table stood up and left without a word being spoken. Even people who didn’t know me would ignore me. I guess word of mouth travels fast. It was, undoubtedly, my darkest hour.
But then, after a few years had passed and we all graduated and went our separate ways, I saw her by herself in a small bookstore. It turns out that neither of us moved anywhere. I didn’t think she saw me see her as I ducked away, trying to remain unnoticed. I saw that she looked up from her book as I tried to shift away from her view. So, I tiptoed through the rows of books, quietly, so as not to be heard. But, as it turns out, she did see me. She cut off my tiptoeing at the end of the Romance section. How ironic. My jaw opened and closed a few times, but no words came out. I didn’t know what to say.
Now, I had a chance to see her. I mean, really see her. I noticed the ring on her finger, but I didn’t pry or inquire about it. That is her business. If she wanted to tell me, she would. One of us was going to have to break the silence. I moved my mouth close to her ear and whispered “Sorry… for everything”. She looked deep into my eyes and just nodded. That was all I needed. The emotional dark cloud that had been looming over me ever since, had cleared away. I could now smile. I walked away, knowing that should we cross paths again, it would be on more peaceful terms. Maybe I could regain a chance to protect her again, like I should have done years ago. It’s amazing how one can be so stubborn and hardheaded about an incident for so long, then view it in a totally different perspective a few years later.
As it turn out, not long after seeing her in the bookstore, we came across each other again. I knew I owed her a debt of servitude. So, we exchanged phone numbers. And later that night, at a restaurant between where we both lived, years and years of tears rained down between us, as we both poured our souls out. Patrons looked at us oddly. But, they didn’t know. The emotional bonding we had could not be understood beyond the booth we sat in. And that became “our place”. If there was a point between friend and girlfriend, we reached that point. And I was happy with that. And so was she.
The End
