Reminiscing (part 6)

[1] [2] [3] [[4]] [Previous]

Matt was suddenly standing in the doorway. “Tony asked you to go downstairs.” He was looking at Maria. “He’s on the phone with someone. Something about tennis at the club on Sunday.”

She climbed off the bed. “See you downstairs,” she said to Wei Hsien.

That was when he realized that it didn’t matter anymore how often he stayed in touch with Maria. It could be twice a year, or once in five years, but between them, things would never change. And yet, he still wondered if she ever missed it, their friendship of long, long ago. Of people and places which only made sense to them: Steven, the aspiring artist in L.A., Zuma Beach, watching Aliens one summer night in Westwood. It all seemed to belong to another age, to two very different people.

Matt shifted to make way for her at the doorway, and came into the room, idling around his stereo. For a while, nobody said anything.

What would Matt think if he had heard Maria talk about her dream? About the significance of her being in the room and Matt playing that song while he was gone in the bathroom, almost as if the song were—for her? Was it just Maria’s dream and did Matt come into the picture at all? He wanted very badly to tell his friend, but he changed his mind.

Having crossed the boundary of mere friendship, they found things had, inevitably, gotten more complicated. They were no longer teenagers. She had to go back to the States to finish her degree. It was as if he had begun to walk a tightrope of emotions then, balancing a heart full of memories with a reality of empty days underscored with loneliness.

At first, e-mail seemed a good bridge over the miles, even better than letters. But in the end, the electronic texts only mocked their hollow longings. Three months later, she called to say she needed to be alone for a while. I never quite believed her. I felt she was hiding something, or someone, from me.

For me, that was the end of that, beautiful Maria of my soul.

“So. . . what did you and Hsien talk about?” Tony wasked, walking down the driveway of the house.
“The usual things. . . : she replied. She seemed in a pensive mood. She turned to look back at Matt’s house silhouetted in the blue velvet night. She told him about the photo in Matt’s room.

“The guys have taken lots of photos together, you know,” said Tony. “I’m surprised there were more of the bunch lying around the room.”

“Maybe he likes the minimalist look.” She gave a small laugh. “I’m just wondering. . . “

“What? If Matt ever liked you?” You can’t be serious!”

She was silent for a while. “No, it’s not that.”

In the darkness, he could not see her face properly.

“I guess,” she said, “I’ll never know.”

END