And So It Is....Just Like You Said It Would Be

The day before my interview I called Lex and Marco from Europe, sniffling and feeling way too sorry for myself. I had, once again, run into the inevitable: Hayden letting me down. Lex tried to be delicate in his assessment but nonetheless pointed out to me: "...you knew this was going to happen. It probably upsets you more that you knew and it happened anyway. You got your hopes up anyway."

I had landed at 9am on Wednesday, groggy and cranky from spending the night flying across the ocean. After shuffling through customs trying to answer questions about the purpose of my trip in a language I don't speak nearly often enough, I dragged my suitcase over to the giant train departure information boards to catch the next one into the city. Two minutes before my train was due to arrive, a fragile old man tapped me on the shoulder and said: "Miss, how do I take the train? I haven't been on one since the War (WWII)." I couldn't help myself - I'm such a sucker for helping people like this, probably because I've spent most of my own life moving from place to place and trying to get the hang of unfamiliar territories. I walked him back upstairs to the terminal at a snail's pace and helped him buy a ticket, find the correct train, and get to his departure track.

As I ran down the stairs to catch my own train, I cursed the city's meticulously on-time departures. In front of me the behemoth was slowing inching its way out of the station. With a sigh heavier than my suitcase, I lugged the overpacked testament to my neuroses (2 suits, 7 shirts, 5 pairs of shoes, 10 pairs of underwear for 4 days - I mean, seriously) onto the escalator in search of the next train out.

Around 11:30 I inserted the spare key into the front door of Hayden's former house (he and Alicia have since moved out) and settled myself into the guest bedroom on the fifth floor. I text messaged Hayden: "I'm at your dad's place" and hopped in the shower. As I was brushing my hair, his reply arrived: "Ok. I'm busy at the fraternity signing people up until 7PM. I'll call you after." It was noon and I was dead tired, so I crashed and took a nap. When I woke up it was 4pm, and upon seeing the empty fridge downstairs I walked to the corner shop and bought some necessities. Hayden's father had a business dinner that evening and wouldn't be home until later. I switched on the TV and watched Michael Phelps brandish yet another gold medal at the Summer Olympics, his immense talent marred heavily by his signature arrogance and inane blather.

Around 10pm I started to get annoyed - Hayden still hadn't called me. Of course it was possible that the sign-ups had run over, but I wished he had let me know he wouldn't be able to make it in that case. Minutes later his father came home and we chatted for a few hours, mostly about the past, what it was like to date as a widower, and what we were both doing with our lives nowadays. When he asked me why I wasn't out and I hesitated in my answer, trying to be polite, he knew immediately what was going on. Suddenly he said: "you know, Hayden loves you very much. He's just such an imbecile with emotions." As kind as his words were, something inside of me just could not accept them. Weren't they just the consolation prize in a seriously flawed friendship? Hayden may love me more than I know, but the man has more baggage than my heart can handle. Maybe I'm unkind. Maybe I should give him more leeway because his mom died. But at what point do you differentiate between actions that are a result of grief and lingering psychological scars and actions that are just thoughtless and unwarranted? Will I ever be able to carry on some semblance of a normal friendship again?

As I stared out the living room window into the cool night, I couldn't help but feel utterly stupid. Why did I keep getting my hopes up, thinking that Hayden and I would someday be friends like we used to be? Why had he sent me that text message telling me he was looking forward to seeing me and talking to me like we used to? I fought back tears as I climbed up to my attic retreat. I am a gullible moron who believes in the good in people. Way to go.

On the phone the next day, I couldn't help but laugh when Marco called me back five minutes after I'd told him how disappointed I was and said: "I have a battle plan. You're going to get out of that house and make plans with every single person you know in the city. Then you're going to go to that used bookstore you like and pick out the coolest book you see and buy it for yourself. Then you're going to walk over to the park and read that thing cover to cover until you feel like you're in possession of yourself again. Then you're gonna go to sleep at 10pm so that you kick ass at your interview. Then you can call me and tell me you made it to the second round and I'll tell you how fabulous you are. I love you. Call me later."

Well, I did make it to the second round in my interview the next day. They're flying me back over here in September. That night I took the train out to see my family. 10 of us happened to all be in the same country - a rarity in our clan - and we barbecued until the wee hours. As I was sitting by the outdoor hearth, surrounded by people who love me and support me, Hayden faded from my mind, and I thought of Lex's eternal delicacy and Marco's unwavering desire to solve all of life's problems. I am one lucky girl. Maybe someday Hayden will be a friend again, but for now I'll keep his memory in a box, stored near Raf.

Tonight I made plans to eat with Alicia and her father. It's my last night here. As I'm typing this blog entry I get a phone call - it's him. He wants to know if he can join us...