Better Than Nothing

One day has passed and I still haven’t gathered the courage to text her.

The white puffs drift in the sky, not sure whether to stay or go. I’ve been sitting at my desk watching them for a while now, trying to find the courage I lack.

It’s ironic since I don’t like them, but I am like a plant. I need the sun to live.

After a month of closed weather, I have been watching the sky in a pointless attempt to predict it.

On days like this I feel like I’m sixteen again, standing outside my mother’s room, looking for the right words to ask if I could go out with my friends.

I thought adults did what they had to do, no stress, no pain, no permission needed. Anxiety and shyness are ills of the young. That’s what I thought, however, after my twenty-fifth birthday I noticed there is no such thing as an “adult”.

To me, an adult is someone who has grown, knows who they are and what they want. Therefore, sending a text to a high school friend wouldn’t be hard, right?! Especially after she told you to do it. Or was she just being polite? She herself said she is very busy working, so inviting her for lunch in the middle of the week would probably be a bad idea.

“I finally bumped into you!” said the girl I met in my sophomore year of high school. She is now a grown woman, living alone and working two jobs.

“You haven’t changed much,” she adds.

“I could say the same about you, Miss,” I responded.

In the middle of the parking lot I got off my beaten orange bike. I was on my weekly ride to the supermarket, which was the only appointment I had outside of the house.

The pandemic changed something in me. I always wanted to reside in the big city, among the tall buildings and loud avenues. After living in a small town my whole teenage years, the thrill of going out at any hour and having a club to head to was everything I wanted. But the world stopped and I spent a whole year at home with no one but my fiancée and my three cats.

Of course, gradually life went back to its normal pace - the thing is, I didn’t. Loud noises, crowded spaces, and bright lights, all things that used to excite me began to make me uncomfortable and anxious. I couldn’t leave my apartment downtown to go to the gym. The three-block route felt like three miles between the heavy traffic.

Five years went by, the pandemic was over and I moved back to my hometown married. Another year passed with a lot of therapy, much support from my wife, a new apartment in a peaceful neighborhood and I was able to go out on my own again.

“Everyone left,” she said while grabbing her things from her car. “We should resume this friendship.”

“We definitely should,” I confirmed.

“I hate the city, but everyone moved there after high school. It’s just me and you here.” During the pause she watched me with an open smile as if noting the changes in my figure. “We need to stick together. You know I was always the most fun.”

A humid breeze blows the curtains of my window. I just wish the sun would come out, if it does then it’s a sign.

When I was younger I was more fun. At least that’s how I see it now. Lately I hesitate too much when it comes to people. I’m always afraid of being inconvenient because I hate inconvenient people. We didn’t think about these things when we were young, we just did whatever we wanted.

“We talked a lot about movies back then. Are you still a superhero fan?”

As I posed the question her expression lost its sparkle for a second. Her smile toned down before she answered.

“No, I had to give that up. You know how life is.”

Lifting my eyes to the sky, I see a big cloud entering my view. I block the phone and leave it at the desk as I stand up to go to the kitchen. Postponing things was my specialty lately, and coffee breaks were the perfect excuse.

Black with low sugar, if I didn’t have it at least twice a day I was guaranteed a headache by the afternoon. It had been a while since I stopped drinking lattes in the morning. It didn’t have the strength I needed to get through the day. My mother used to say that and now I understand what she meant.

On the other hand, many of my tastes that annoyed Mother remained unchanged. I like the same singers, I don’t eat vegetables and I still like superhero movies. When I think about my age now compared to when I was sixteen, I don’t feel much difference between who I was and who I am. It seems like time hasn’t passed at all. So hearing my old friend say she had “given up” her passion made me feel sad for her and concerned about myself.

Maybe inviting her to see a movie isn’t the best choice.

I sip the hot liquid and enjoy the strong bitter flavor warming me up from the inside.

In a new mug I serve a generous amount of unsweetened coffee and take it with me. I walk in, unannounced and lost in thought.

“Are we doing anything this Friday?”

I ask, laying the mug over the coaster near the laptop.

My wife, who’s on the phone, holds her finger over her mouth.

We have known each other for about ten years and we’ve been together for nine of them. Her tastes, her way of speaking and behaving, she changed so much she’s basically a completely different person. She has grown into a capable professional in a major company all by herself, in a field she had never thought of when studying. She’s my complete opposite. While I was afraid of change, she embraced it.

“What did you say?”

She asks after putting the phone down and reaching for the mug.

“Anything wrong?” I ask.

“Oh, the usual. People are too lazy to think for themselves.”

“Hm…”

I take another sip.

“You haven’t texted her.”

“Not yet.”

I look over to her and she’s staring at me. I know exactly what she’s going to say next.

“You should do it. It’ll be good for you to go out and do something.”

Her phone vibrates and she growls, putting down the coffee.

“You may not like it, but socializing is good for you.”

She scolds me before answering the call with the most charismatic voice.

I don’t know how she does that, picking up phone calls, replying to emails and managing team meetings all at once. I can’t even take my phone out of the plane mode because someone might call me.

With an empty mug, I return to my desk.

My wife is right. I frequently wonder about why I became such a loner. The pandemic can be one answer. Some people grew closer during isolation but I did the opposite. I never had many friends, only the ones I made in high school and during the whole year of the pandemic I didn’t see or talk to them. My insecurities won and I didn’t reach out to anyone once the worst had passed. I thought it was too late. They didn’t contact me so there was no point in going after them; it seemed desperate.

I don’t even know what to text.

Back at my window, I sigh, defeated. The sky is completely covered now.

“Is it too much to ask for a little sunshine?”

There I was mad at the weather when I was actually mad at myself. I don’t know why that first step is so scary. Better yet, why is it so much harder to do it after we have grown up? When we’re young first steps are exciting and adventurous, or were they? After my mother found me at her door, I was forced to spit out what I wanted and I remember my heart racing, my hands shaking just to hear her denied my request. Then I had to go and tell my friends what happened. It was torture.

I want to resume our friendship, go out, do things, chat about old the times but what if it doesn’t work out? Then I went through all of this for nothing.

Here I go. Anxiety always takes over my thoughts, making me overthink simple tasks such as text someone who told me to text them.

The wind barges inside like a whip messing the papers on my desk.

If it rains then everything will definitely get more depressing.

Screw it, I’ll text her later or tomorrow. We met yesterday so there’s no rush. She’s probably working and won’t be able to make it anyway.

On the other hand if I don’t reach out she’ll think I’m not interested in being friends again.

Damn it, I feel like a teenager. I’m twenty-eight and letting social anxiety take over me. This part of my life is supposed to be over; I should be able to talk to people with confidence.

After years of therapy this can’t be the best I can do.

Being objective, what’s the worst that could happen? We meet up and find out we have nothing in common anymore. Then every time I meet her at the supermarket it will be this awkward pointless chitchat about how we should “Do it again!”. I’ll have to avoid shopping there but I can’t, it’s the closest and better store in town.

What am I doing?! If it doesn’t work out at least I did my part.

Letting the rush of logical thinking take the lead, I grab the phone and type a simple “Hey!”.

My brain tries to sabotage me by threatening to delete it but I press the send button before I change my mind. I feel ridiculous. All this fuss for a simple “Hey”.

Standing in front of the window, I take a deep breath. The warm breeze smells like dirt and plants. Rain is really coming.

I look up and a huge dark cloud is passing by. A stronger whip takes my breath and returns small cold droplets. At first I flinch with surprise, but I don’t move. Feeling the rain on my skin is like being a kid again, so I stand there in front of my window with my eyes closed. The air was really dry these past days; it feels much better now.

As I get used to the sounds of the drops falling over the plants on the balcony, a sudden clarity forces me to squeeze my eyes shut.

I take a few moments to realize that the light that is making my eyelids glow also feels warm and cozy.

I relax my posture letting myself be in the moment. Timid, a smile of satisfaction grows on my lips. As silly as I feel, I let go of my thoughts for a second to enjoy the tingling on my cheeks.

Sun and rain, what an improbable match.

Meanwhile, on the desk, my phone vibrates. I don’t want to pick it up, instead I try to catch a few drops with my tongue.

I didn’t ask for this, but in the end, it’s better to have sunshine with rain than to have nothing at all.