Up Allen Way

The last time I saw her was down Allen Way. Her back was turned to me. There would be no mending our relationship. It was done. It was finished. I blew it.

There would be no second chances. Not after all I have done. In any other story that would be the end of it. She walks out of my life, my story, and we move on.

This is not that story. I would do anything to win her heart again.

So I went back to the drawing board. Went through everything we have ever done together. Studied it from all angles. Where was it I went wrong?

As with any relationship they start simple. We were friends as children.

She was adventurous and kind. I was reflective and mindful. She loved sports. I was a book nerd.

Yet she tolerated me. No. She accepted me. And I loved her. I loved her before I ever knew what love was.

I adored her smile. The freedom she experienced as we ran around the playground. Her hair would trail behind her flowing and free. We would leap from the bridge that divided the playgrounds. Go up and jump again.

I adored her for the care and concern she felt for others. When I was stricken with a seizure she was the one I woke up to. She mended my arm. I dislocated it during my thrashing fit. It was from her that I learned to reset bones. To mend what was broken.

We graduated from elementary. We drifted apart. Then as it happens we met again during my senior year.

We were both in marching band for our respective schools. She asked me how I had been.

I was well, thriving in school, earned a scholarship, and-.

Then someone called her name. He walked up to her. Wrapped his arms around her and introduced himself as her boyfriend.

I envied him. It was not the last I felt envy. But I kept it in. I only ever wished for her happiness.

After that chance meeting I did not see her for four years. Then as fate would have it, we met again.

It was after my graduation from college. I was walking from a breakfast restaurant, Wilko’s, when I saw her curled up against a wall. Her head was buried in her hands.

Remembering her I went up and asked what was wrong.

She looked up. She remembered me. She threw her arms around me. It was a cascade of warmth I had missed all these years.

Then she told me her tale. Her relationship with him was falling apart. She didn’t know what to do.

I gave it some thought. I suggested, though it pained my heart, that she remember what brought them together.

We went through every memory, every bike ride, every hike, and every embrace.

It was all experiences I never shared with her. These were memories they shared. I helped remind her of what bound them together.

Then I felt envy gnaw at me. There was no ignoring it.

We parted ways. Exchanged phone numbers and addresses. I ached. I longed for the experiences she had but knew that I could not offer her the same.

I realized that what I bound I could break.

I spread gossip about them. Sowed lies and division. She should be mine. I loved her first.

I planted rumors that one was cheating on the other. Set the stage for false trysts.

A letter from a mannequin mate here. Underwear thrown carelessly over a lamp there. Lip gloss painted over the portrait of another man.

I destroyed friendships for love. I ruined the love I once saved.

Then there was the night. She came to me in tears. That was it. They were done.

I consoled her. Wiped her tears. And at last we embraced.

It was wrong. There was no love there. Envy strangled it. It clung to every fiber of my being. It was a corruption that now changed to shame.

I thought I could hide it. I thought it would fade. There was no hiding from guilt.

So there we were down Allen Way. I wanted to come clean.

What I had built up, it took an afternoon and a slap to the face to tear down. She turned from me and never looked back.

I returned home. Twisting and turning, aching and agonizing. The shame and guilt clung to me.

I had to set things right.

I scoured our memories. To make right what went wrong.

With him I explained everything. I got a black eye for the effort. I repeatedly came wishing to talk it over, to set things right. It was only on his terms that he allowed me to elaborate.

We sat down and talked it over. I asked him what he thought was special about her. What she meant to him.

It was then I realized I knew so little about her. He said I knew her well. Yet he had known and won her heart.

It was harder for her to come around. She could not forget or forgive my betrayal of her trust and love.

I sang for her, told her why he was the one for her. Told her he was waiting for her. If she wanted, they could be whole again.

“Why should I,” she asked.

I’m going to let it out. All of it.

I exhaled. Looked her in those shimmering green eyes.

“I was the first to love you. I never forgot you after all those years. I hoped we would be together.” Then I said, “I know now, you are meant to be with him. You came to that conclusion yourself. I did not decide for you.”

Please. Come back together.

She hugged me.

And she whispered, “I never forgot you. I loved you too. We could never have been parted.”

At Allen Way I waited. I fiddled and twitched. Would they come?

Up Allen Way I saw them. They approached. They exchanged a few words. Then in the purest expression of their love they embraced and kissed.

It was better this way. So I left without another word.

There was a visitor at my door. They were there, interlocked in each other’s arms.

“I’m looking for a best man,” he said.

“We would love it if you could come,” she said.

In any other story she would be gone, happy in a life I was not part of. In any other story it would be a tale of lost love, of what could have been.

These are not those stories. I was part of her life in a way that our love flourished differently. It was the love between best friends.

We can love in so many ways. It takes my breath away up to Allen Way.