Friends


"We're not friends", he tells me. He adds that we won't be friends for a long time, maybe 10 years. I tell him I'll add that to my Google Calendar.

I got an email from my not-friend saying he was flying through O'Hare and I could stop by his gate to say hello, if I wanted.

Ever since the airborne toxic event that was our breakup, we don't have conversations. He emails me a news article about Taiwan. Weeks later, I'll send him a link to an odd invention that slices a hotdog to look like an octopus. He alerts me that the new Vampire Weekend album is on sale on Amazon. I send him a funny picture of Mayor Daley. Our emails are never in response. Always new, unrelated topics. Responses would make conversations. Conversations are dangerous. We are not friends.

I stop by to see him at his gate. The conversation is pleasant for a few minutes. Updates on life. I tell him about being accepted to the University of Chicago and completing my application for Columbia.
"How are you applying to such prestigious universities", he asks.
"You mean, why?", I ask, genuinely confused by the question.
"How or why; choose your interrogative. You went to Dalton State University for undergrad"
"Dalton State College", I correct.
"Exactly".

Snarky as hell. Not friends. I'm fine. I could be friends. But it takes two, right?

So why communicate at all? Because even though we may not be friends, he knows me well enough to send what were the most thoughtful words I received after Granddaddy's death.

Hey, Kevin. Liza just told me that Granddaddy passed away earlier this week. I sure am sorry about that. I hope that your family is able to spend lots of sweet time together remembering him this week. Your stories and anecdotes about him were always so fun, such a reminder of what home really is and why family is worth all the effort that is required. I'll be praying for you and all of your family - your mom especially, too - this week.

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