2002-08-30
friday, august 30 - We met like this once before, that 'let's get together sometime' kind of meeting that usually doesn't happen. It's just an expression. Like 'How are you'. Most people don't really mean it when they say it. It's just become a way of filling in the unspeakable parts of conversation, like 'too bad we don't get together more often like we used to'.

Heidi sat across a resturant table from me almost exactly the way she had two years after graduation. Before she told me herself, I don't know whether she was aware that I already knew she'd married that vanilla gangsta she started seeing in high school. It's a good thing I knew beforehand. If she'd witnessed the complete disappointment that came over me when Sean told me, it might have ruined the whole evening. I was just deeply disappointed - not mad, not jeleous - just disappointed in her having given up and settled.

In a totally egotistical way, I feel partly responsible for those two getting together. Although Jenny had more hand in it, I'm sure. In those four years Jenny had gone from beautiful and gentle flower child to "hard" gangsta bitch. She showed up junior year wearing Raiders paraphenilia and stretching her long golden-blond hair flat against her skull until her hairline was forked and ratty. When Heidi was tired of me stringing her along, she went looking where there were other boys to be found; in Jenny's circle of homies on the other side of the tracks.

I hate reminescing more than anything, especially with people I went to high school with. I didn't care to talk about why she and I never got together when all I had to say was 'yes'. Instead of broaching an embarrassing and sensitive subject, I preferred the assumption that it was because I was supposed to have a girlfriend at that time.

Heidi and I used to be friends. While I took whoever came my way, Heidi was the one and only girl I really wanted to be with. Back when most people were interchangable objects of amusement, Heidi knew who I was, knew how I worked and she was still my friend. Even though she kept plenty of her own secrects locked tight. I liked that I could tell her anything and everything. I didn't like that she could never let go of her insecurities and trust me the same way.

Not that I ever exemplified trustworthiness. I did have a girlfriend, and stayed with her because the sex was incredible. In those days it was easier to get good sex on a regular basis if I became someone's boyfriend. Heidi wasn't ready for sex. So, while she and I remained close, I chose Stacy. And eventually Heidi and I faded away from each other.

Portland is small enough that it's hard to live without everyone within six degrees knowing what you're up to. But it's also big enough that you can't always find the people you want to talk to. I wasn't looking for her, especially now that I knew how her life had turned out, but there she was anyway.

And there we were, again, talking in that practiced manner of courtesey, careful not to brush upon any old wounds. She described her marriage as matter-of-fact. I barely listened. If I'd paid more attention I might have said something honest. Instead, I left the answering machine on. Oh, yeah?. Wow, that's great. Yes, of course. Mmm, hmm.

So, it sounds like you're really happy. Finally, after mentally examining all the fragments of her life as if they collectively amounted to the handbook definition of happiness, she shrugged. Yes, she's happy. As if sustaining a passive existence was happiness.

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