First and Last

        I remember when I looked into his eyes during the last few moments he voluntarily wasted his time with me. I didn’t recognize anything different, dark, or distant as he smiled at me. His ocean eyes shone brightly under the setting sun as he laughed at his own humor. I remember the whole scene in slow motion as I sat there next to him on the grass while he turned his head to face me. He was finally growing a beard—evidence of puberty—and I watched him slowly become a man. We had been best friends since before we could walk, and I stood next to him as he grew from an awkward boy into a confident young adult.

        He continued to chuckle over some perverted joke he told—he always told off-colored jokes because he adored it when people laughed at something he said. If they laughed at his words, they couldn't laugh at him. He endured unfathomable amounts of pain in his life because his family treated him like an outcast and the world continuously beat him down. Although he endured his suffering, I knew he was vulnerable. Even with his newly found confidence. After knowing someone for so long, it would be impossible to not know when they were in agony.

        His copper hair blazed under the sunset, and his head began to blend in with the natural orange of the sky. He was beautiful. Even before puberty, he was always beautiful. Even when we laughed together, made fun of each other, and fought—he always remained beautiful in those emotional moments. The same moments that made us what we were as we sat in the grass and enjoyed each other's company.

        I remember this day particularly because it was the last day we were best friends. Although we never officially ended our friendship at that moment, it was the last time he laughed with his sparkling blue eyes at something his best friend had said. It was the last time I ugly laughed with my mouth open at something my best friend had said. I didn’t know it would be the last time, but it was a memorable way to say goodbye as I look back at the joy we shared.

        We never officially said goodbye, but we didn’t need to. We both knew our lives changed. I saw him from time to time shortly after this, but he only ever nodded his head in my direction. The walls he built up for his family and the world were now directed toward me, and I couldn't deal with it properly. What was I to do? He had never barred himself up around me, making everything so distant and surreal.

        I remember he gave me a hug a few years later around Christmas, but that was it. The hug alone made me expel muffled sobs as I drove home that evening. His touch reminded me of all the hugs we used to share.

        When I got home after that final hug, I sat on my bed and cried over his rejection for the last time. To eject my emotions from my body as a way to lessen the pain, I wrote him a letter and asked him when everything changed:

        When did you look into my eyes for the last time and remove the love that used to be there? When did you see me, but not actually see me anymore? When did you look over at me among the many times we laughed together and told yourself that this wasn’t what you wanted? You didn’t want our dirty jokes anymore, our late-night conversations, our insignificant hugs that meant the world to me—instead, you wanted another life. You wanted other friends that never stood up for you, other girls that just wanted you for one night, and you disregarded me. When did I become nothing to you?

        Was it when I stood up against you because you exposed a secret you promised to keep? Was it when I told you that you were wrong for being mean to someone that didn’t deserve it, and I compared that boy to you? Was it when I told you I wanted something different in my life than what you wanted? When did your blue eyes look over at me and see nothing more than another human being? When did their shining color become dull when my face appeared in your memories? I want to know when this happened because I might’ve been able to avoid it. You never gave me a chance to even try. You just left.

        You stopped texting me, you stopped laughing with me, you stopped hanging out with me, and you stopped loving me. Although I was there for you since we held hands in the nursery, I was never enough. When did you realize I would never be enough or did you always know that? I knew we wouldn’t be friends someday because we were too close. The woman in your life wouldn’t appreciate me, and I understood that. I understood that I wouldn’t be around forever, but why so soon?

        Was it when I wouldn’t sleep with you? Did your pride overcome your love for me? Did you ever truly love me to begin with? Were we ever best friends or was I just someone to pass the time with when your other friends were busy? Who was there when you got beat up? Who was there to push off the other children when we were younger, and you were too small? Did I hurt your pride? I just wanted to protect you.

        I can still smell your cologne when you used to hug me. I can still see your bright eyes as they glowed from happiness. I can still feel your soft touch from the small gestures you made. I can still hear your rough laugh as you threw your head back from joy. That wasn’t fake. I know it wasn’t. So, why? Why wasn’t I good enough?

        I knew the letter was too much, so I hid it between my mattress and fell deeper into my emotions. We weren’t best friends anymore, and I had to put the past behind me. Although I had other friends, none of them were with me during the defining moments of my childhood. He was the only person that stood next to me constantly, and that was the reason why his actions hurt so much.

        I cried myself to sleep, but I felt better the next morning. The sun shone brightly through my curtains, and I knew it was a new day with new possibilities. We needed each other when we had each other, and maybe it was time to focus on something new.

        As the days went on, I eventually categorized him with my past without any bitterness or remorse. Despite the open wound he left in my heart, I couldn't regret any of our time spent together. He made me who I was, and I was forever grateful for his friendship.

        I never assumed he still cared about me, but from time to time he would appear in my life and perform small gestures when I needed them the most as if he were my guardian angel. When I got a boyfriend, he told me how much he didn’t approve. He reminded me that I deserved better than I had and gave me one of the most needed hugs of my life. I cried when he left because I knew he still loved me.

        When he got his heart broken, he texted me and told me about it. I was there for him until he healed and moved on. He knew I still loved him.

        Whenever he got drunk, he would send me videos of himself laughing to brighten my evening. The blurry videos of himself dancing in his garage always made me ugly laugh. He was a terrible dancer. I knew he still loved me.

        When I got my heart shattered by my first breakup, I texted him because I knew he’d tell me what I needed to hear. He’d tell me that the man wasn’t worth my pain. He knew I still loved him.

        All these years after that last moment we shared on the grassy hilltop, we both knew that we still loved each other. We were no longer best friends, but we were there for one another whenever we needed each other. We were true friends—even after all those years apart—and we still love each other to this very day.

        He was my first friend, and I know he’ll be my last.