My Heart's in Alabama

44 - Kiersten

Last night was awful. Beyond awful. Disastrous. An atomic bomb dropped on a 10 year friendship that I thought was going to last a lifetime. Matt's moving. Far away to another state to start over and surely forget about me. I still can't believe it. It seems so surreal. A few months ago, we were swimming in the lake, enjoying the sunshine and getting ready for our sophomore year. I was so excited. Matt made the varsity football team, I was going to Homecoming for the first time, it was supposed to be great. But somehow, it all got so screwed up. It got complicated and messy and now it feels like things will never be the same. Our lives have changed. Forever.

Thinking about it, the life we had, the carefree summer days that are now gone, it starts to make me dizzy.

I need some fresh air.

I pull open our sliding glass door and walk out onto our back patio. I throw myself into a lawn chair and cover my face with my hands. It's not until I take a few deep breaths and settle myself just a little that I see a football plopped right next to our fence. I roll my eyes. You'd think after 10 years, Matt would learn to keep his stuff on his own side.

Annoyed, I push myself out of my chair and go to pick it up. I reach down and immediately notice words scribbled in black Sharpie. I look closer.

I'm sorry. Please talk to me.

My heart tugs and pulls in all different directions. I don't know how to feel. I know Matt didn't mean what he said and logically, I realize how important it is for him to reconnect with his mom, but still, it hurts. It's hard not to feel like he's choosing her over me and to second-guess myself and wonder if deep down, he really did mean what he said. And that I'm the reason he's leaving.

Ugh.

I sigh and look down at my feet, unsure what to make of this football apology of his. Laying in the grass, right next to my shoe, is a black Sharpie. He wants me to write back.

I toss the football back and forth between my hands, thinking of what to write. There's a tiny part of me, the part of me that's wounded and hurt, that wants to just chuck it back, let him go, and leave this all in the dust. But I can't let the pain I'm feeling cloud my judgment. That's exactly what I did last night. Instead of listening to Matt, I blew up at him. I let my hurt turn into anger and lashed out because I felt scared and rejected.

And now look where we are.

I grab the Sharpie from off the ground. My mind is made up. I know what I have to say.

I'm sorry too

I toss the football and the Sharpie over the fence. In what seems like seconds, it flies back over to me and lands in front of my feet. The speedy return makes me wonder if he's been waiting there for me, hoping I'd respond.

You have nothing to be sorry for

I let out a heavy sigh. I can't help but feel guilty that he's taking all the blame. It was both our fault really. We both let our emotions get the better of us and said things we shouldn't have.

Yes I do

I forgive you. Will you forgive me?

He writes back quickly, but it takes me a little bit more time. I'm hesitant, not because I don't accept responsibility for my part in the fight, but because no matter whose fault it was, it still hurts to be spoken to so harshly. Especially when it's coming from someone that holds such a special place in your heart.

I'm not sure

I understand. I was an asshole.

Yeah you were