Hello, Good Friend

"You know Tony, you can drop me off after you've dropped off Ryan and Shane. I really don't mind," I said, trying to subconsciously reveal to Tony my discomfort.

"Don't be silly, Chloe! Your house comes before theirs does, it's at the bottom of the hill. Plus, I live right by them, so it's easier to drop you off first so I don't have to drive back and forth."

I sighed and began to think of a quick getaway plan in my head: I would begin saying my goodbyes while I was in the car as soon as Tony turned on to my street. Then, I'd hop out as soon as he pulled up to the curb and walk quickly to the front door, calling out a final goodbye.

Sounded like a good plan to me.

"Chloe, we're here."

My eyes widened and I lifted my head from where I had it rested against the window. We were pulled up to the curb outside of my house with the mailbox that read "PARUCHA" two feet in front of the car. Damn it.

"Alright, thanks for the ride! See you guys around," I said, opening the door and hopping out.

"Later," Shane said.

"I'll call you tomorrow," Tony chimed in.

Ryan was silent.

I walked quickly across the grass, cutting a diagonal path and ignoring the cobblestone walkway that I would have normally gone up. When I reached the patio I heard a door slam shut behind me. Had I forgotten to close the car door behind me? Ignoring the noise, I fumbled around in my purse for my keychain and once I found it, I pulled it out quickly and unlocked the door. I heard Tony's car drive away and I let out a sigh of relief as I opened the door to my house. I shut it behind me and took my time putting my purse back on the coat rack. I was halfway up the stairs when I heard a knock on the door.

"What the fuck," I muttered under my breath, looking at the time on my phone. It was nearly 11:30.

I sauntered back down the stairs and looked through the peephole.

It was Ryan.

I rested my forehead against the door as I contemplated whether I should open the door or act as if I had already bounded up the stairs and out of earshot.

"Chloe, I know you're there, open the door. Please."

Damn.

I re-opened the door and found Ryan standing there, leaning against the door frame with one of his hands on each side, holding him up. We stood there for what seemed like minutes, staring at each other, taking in the immensity of the situation.

Or maybe he didn't kno-

"You," he breathed out. Well, that cancels out that possibility. I furrowed my eyebrows in response to his direction, and crossed my arms over my chest. I don't know why, but the tone of his voice made me feel incredibly defensive. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what? That I was coming back?"

"For starters, yeah."

"Why would I have?"

Silence was the answer given by Ryan to that question. Because even he knew he couldn't count on calling me his 'good friend' for a while, not after the hiatus we both endured. We stood there awkwardly for a while more; he continued to lean against the doorframe while I felt vulnerable under his disbelieving stare in the middle of the foyer.

"Well, since it seems as though we're both going to be up for a while, why don't you come in? I'll make us some coffee."

He stepped in through the door frame and I closed and bolted shut the door behind him. Leading the way into the kitchen, Ryan made himself comfortable on the very same stool I had sat on just that afternoon. I smiled.

"What?"

Caught off guard, I quickly wiped the smile off my face.

"Nothing. It's just– we used to fight over that stool. 'Best spot in the house' and all."

He smiled slightly and we fell back into an awkward silence. I'm not sure either of us really knew what to say, so we were content with not saying anything at all. I busied myself with making coffee while his hands fidgeted noticeably on the kitchen counter. As the coffee machine ran, churning hot water and spouting black liquid, I felt Ryan staring at me. I pretended not to notice, watching the Folgers drip down a little too slowly for my liking.

I sighed, finally turning away from the coffee maker to find Ryan no longer seated in the stool.

"What the-"

I was so stunned to find an empty stool that I hadn't realized Ryan had walked around the bar table and meant to envelop me in a giant, surprise hug. By the time it had happened, I freaked out and almost lost my balance, held up by nothing but Ryan's deceptively strong arms. However, it didn't take me long to hug Ryan back as tightly as he was holding on to me.

It had been four years since the last time Ryan and I had seen each other in person. Four years since our final goodbye. And if not a little ill-timed, this sentimental reunion was definitely justified and long overdue. Why had I been afraid?

We stood there with our arms around each other, his head resting on top of my own, while I buried my face into his chest. Neither of us opted to say anything; we just enjoyed each others' presence. Before long, the coffee maker let out a loud beep, pulling us out of our sugar-coated fantastical version of reality and forcing us into the real world. What do we say to each other after four years?

I poured us both mugs filled with coffee, adding sugar and milk to my own. Ryan took his black, which seemed strange to me, and we both migrated outside to sit with our feet in the pool. For a summer night, the temperature felt just right, and there was no breeze to disturb the stillness.

"I wish you had told me you were coming back," he finally said, setting his mug down beside him.

I took in a deep breathe and let it out, shaking my head sadly.

"I couldn't bring myself to," I replied.

He looked puzzled. "Why not?"

I knew very well that he would ask why, and he deserves nothing but honesty from me, even if it would hurt him at first. In my mind, it was like ripping off a band-aid to let a healing wound breathe. It was a necessary pain in order to make things better between us. And any communication between us would be better than the not-knowing-what-to-say-to-each-other phase we were going through inside.

"Because Ryan, we hadn't talked in over three years. I wasn't even sure if you could consider us friends anymore." Without meaning it to, my voice caught on the last sentence. I took a large gulp of my coffee and willed my throat to clear itself of the giant lump that had found itself caught in the passage.

"Yeah, it's been a long time Chloe… but I would have been so excited that you were coming back," Ryan said. "You were my good friend."

"Were, Ryan," I commented sadly, "Past tense. Things have changed. I moved away, we grew apart. It happens."

"No, not to us," he charged, adamant.

I looked at him, confused as to what he was fighting for.

"What are you talking about, Ryan? I sent emails, I called everyone at least once every three months for the first year, I even sent letters… I got nothing back. You all went on living your lives here as if nothing had changed but I–"

I felt a tear roll down my cheek. Thankfully, Ryan was staring down at his twiddling thumbs, too absorbed in their motion to notice. I quickly wiped it away and resumed, willing myself to hold it together.

"It was easier for you guys to live without me. You had each other. And going through a new high school in an entirely different environment without any of you around me, that was hard. And it was harder when none of you even tried to stay in touch with me. Do you get that?"

"I do," he said, nodding slowly. He now held the mug in his hands, slowly rotating it around. "I'm sorry I never called you back after the first few months. I just– I was young and stupid."

I scoffed. "That you were."

He looked over at me, a twinkle in his eye.

"I just thought that we would always be friends, no matter what. At that age, I never realized–"

"Ryan, I get it. I do. It's a lot to ask of any 14 year old boy, much less one with professional skateboarding ambitions."

"No, it wasn't. I should've taken you more seriously."

I bit my lip. Ryan took a sip of his coffee. The pool's water sloshed against the sides of our feet, creating the only noise in the night. I opened my mouth to speak, but was surprised to find Ryan had already launched into what was on his mind.

"A lot of it was also that I was upset. I knew why you left, and I don't blame you for not sticking around through the divorce, but a part of me felt as though I should have been reason enough for you to stay here. That I could have helped you through anything. But you left. So I tried to help you from here but then I got angry because I thought we would never see each other again, so– I stopped trying.

"Like I said, I was young and stupid. And afraid. As if I had already lost you physically, and that if we actually grew apart because we were leading separate lives, I'd lose you again. It made more sense to not talk to you and know you'd be there for me, then to grow apart. Young and stupid," he finished quietly, finishing the rest of his coffee.

At this point, I didn't bother to hide my tears. As soon as he mentioned my parents' divorce, the tears began to well up; they spilled just seconds later as he admitted that I had broken his little 14-year-old heart by leaving him. But no matter how many emotions I was feeling at that moment, the predominant one was anger. So through the tears, I pulled back my free arm that wasn't holding the coffee mug and socked him on the arm.

"Hey!" he yelled out, instantly lowering his voice once he remembered what time it was. "What the hell was that for?"

"For being a stupid boy," I said, willing myself to laugh through the tears. I hastily set my mug down and threw my arms around him, burying my face in the crook of his neck. He readily returned the gesture and held me tightly, as if he never wanted to let me go again. I knew, in the back of my mind, that we weren't done talking about the past four years. But this was the best start I could have asked for.