Promises

I've often thought about what all I would say if I bumped into you one day, Tori. You were a huge part of my life, and now with one broken promise after another, I don't know that I will ever get the closure I need, but do I even want that? As I sit here wondering where you are and what you are doing, I find myself nervous you may walk in. Would you over hear something I say to the empty seat next to me, where you used to sit?

This is silly. You can't hear me. I don't know why I'm scared you would hear me, much less see me. You are nowhere to be seen in this town. But I must admit, I've missed you.

I'm back. Did you know that? I came back. You told me to come back. I'm back.

Where are you, might I ask? You said you would wait for me. You said you would. You didn't. You aren't on that street anymore. Did you move? Because I'm back. I've been waiting to come back, so I did.

***

It took awhile. I had to get myself back together. After, what was it, 20 years, I'm ready. I'm not married, I don't have any kids. I kept my promise. Did you?

We made that promise, years ago. You said "If we are both 25, no marriage, no kids, nothing, we would get married." You had just watched 'My Best Friend's Wedding', and were inspired. Honestly, I deliberately didn't get married to anyone. I did it for you. Did you know that?

You didn't hold up your side, did you?

***

I lived in New York for a while. I earned money. I got a good job. I unfriended you on Facebook. I wanted it to be a surprise; to see how much you've grown when I come back.

Okay, I unfriended you on Facebook because your whole feed was full of you and your new boyfriend. It hurts, you know? To see the person that you have loved since forever to just instantly leave and become happy with someone new. You wouldn't get that. You unfriended me on Facebook just because.

That hurt even more. As soon as I left our small town, it was like I disappeared. No texts. No calls. Nothing. It was as if we never met. Never talked. Never made promises we wouldn't keep.

***

I don't really blame you. I'm forgettable. I'm replaceable. I was never meant for you. But, when you made that promise, I believed it. I believed I could be yours. That you wanted me too. There goes that hypothesis.

Your new husband, the man who replaced me, is handsome. You always had the best taste in men. You could tell that I wasn't for you. You could tell I just wasn't it.

I wish I was. I truly do. But, I'm currently walking down the street. Your street. Your empty street. I haven't seen anyone. If you still remembered me, you might have been walking with me, or at least sprinting down the street to see me. But you're not.

***

I heard you have a kid now. What was her name? Gracey? Oh, and you have an older son. You had promised me you would name him after me. "His name will be Frank Lee Marcy." That was my last and first name. Not only that, that was my FULL name. But, you didn't. His name is Harold Greg Hawkins, the second. You named him after your husband. His full name.

That hurt, too. I mean, you promised. Sure, maybe we had problems. Maybe you forgot. But, you should have kept it.

***

I found your old house. Nobody lives there. The door was unlocked.

I thought that everything would be gone from there. You moved, and every piece of furniture, accessory, and memory was gone. Even that little apple tree out in the backyard was gone. I heard it had its roots ripped up so you could have a pool. It never happened. Still, there was only one thing that was left.

A lump of shaped clay, with bright colors. Red, orange, green, black, blue, and gold. The little face looked at me with what looked like pity. It had a little string through a hole and it had two other holes to blow through.

You left the bird whistle.

Intended or not, you left it. I bought it when I went to San Antonio. You were so excited, because it had your favorite color on it. The next few weeks, we would fill it up with water and go into the wooded area behind your backyard, looking for birds. That stopped after it got a crack in it.

You could have taken it with you. You could have even shoved it in a box in the back of your closet and I would be fine. But you didn't.

Another broken promise.

You said you would hold it with you forever.

You didn't.

***

I decided to go back home. "Oh, you are already home," you would have said. No I'm not. There is nothing here for me. Your not here, and that's all that mattered to me.

Honestly, it is hard to leave you. I mean, I left you in the first place. But, I didn't expect you to do it back. I hurt you, but didn't your mom always teach you not to hurt someone back?

I keep thinking about that night. At Senior Prom. You told me we were going together. You promised.

I showed up to the dance with a goofy grin and a corsage. You said I didn't have to pick you up.

I waited for an hour. You didn't show. I walked to your house and went up our secret way to your room.

I didn't expect it.

You said you would come.

Another promise broken.

You were with Paul. The handsome guy from our school. You betrayed me.

Maybe I made noise. I don't know. You turned to the window and saw me, and I went running. My pants got ripped from the branches of the apple tree and mud decorated my sneakers. I didn't care. I just had to get away from you.

That's when we stopped talking. It was too much, too fast. I moved to New York, and I don't know what you did. I don't even know if you felt sad or bad. Did you feel pity or guilt? Did you wish I hadn't gone?

Whatever. I don't care about you anymore.

So what if I'm 38 now? So what if I didn't come when we were 25? Maybe you came back. I'm sorry I left you waiting. But, let's be honest, you had it coming.

You can break promises, and I can too.