Most of us have friends from high school that we rarely see. They're friends on social media, or we occasionally bump into them while we're out. Every so often, you'll share a TikTok or funny video. One of you might accidentally say more than you meant to about life's problems.
In my case, I graduated with Jill. She was wildly smart and athletic when she was younger. Her life pushed her down a path of both career and children. Over the last few years, I failed to notice that her messages became more frequent.
As with many couples, her husband transformed from a happy family man to a bitter, hard drinker. Last year, Jill's messages began to include bizarre stories of his behavior and of her struggle to understand how her life went wrong.
Health problems forced her to retire. But her mind was just as brilliant and active as it always was. When she decided to get divorced, I was happy for her. I encouraged her to let life happen and eventually find someone looking for a partner, if not a soulmate.
One morning on a rainy Saturday, I got up to find a message notification on my phone: "Hey, Kevin. Good morning. I've been thinking about this, and I haven't quite got the nerve to say so. I'll write to you a little bit later if that's okay."
Reading the message made me feel nervous. Any number of things could have happened.
After typing out my reply, I hit send. "Good morning! Of course." I wanted to write more, but I've had a bad habit of overthinking and writing too much in the past.
As the day progressed, I thought about her message a couple of times and then forgot about it.
At three p.m., my phone vibrated.
"Kevin, I'm lonely. I have no right to ask or put this on you. I want you to come over and be with me. Don't text back. Just show up. And if you don't appear at my door, I'll understand. I want you to do this for me this way because I want to experience hope. Hope that you'll come over and spend time with me. I know we've only seen each other for a brief minute in the last few years. But you are kind and funny. I need that."
Stunned, I read the message over and over. The urge to write back was overwhelming.
Jill is beautiful now that she's older. Her hair is streaked with silver, and she has wrinkles where we all accumulate them. Her full lips are more likely to smile than frown. Life has been tough lately, but underneath it all, she's funny. She finally stripped away the veneer of pretending that things were all right.
Despite all the reasons not to visit, I drove across town by five, convinced I wouldn't go through with it when I got close to her house.
When I pulled into her driveway, all my nervousness disappeared. She might not know all the things going on in my life, but she secretly knew I needed a connection, too. Her loneliness and frustration found a way to overcome her fear of rejection. Once she peeked out and saw me in person, she could slam the door in my face or not answer it at all.
Even though there was a doorbell to my left, I knocked on the door. Several seconds later, Jill opened the door.
She smiled at me and opened her arms for a hug. I moved toward her and wrapped my arms around her.
My head went to her neck and intimately nuzzled against her. It wasn't something I thought about before doing it. We'd share a few emotionally vulnerable moments over messaging, and all of those allowed me to short-circuit my social nervousness.
We stood in the doorway, hugging each other and rocking slightly.
Jill pulled away, grabbing both of my hands as she looked at me. "I can't believe you came, Kevin. It's so nice to see you."
"Look at you," I replied. "Same beautiful smile and same beautiful face."
"You're too kind. My face has a lot more wrinkles now."
Again, without thinking about it, I let go of her right hand, moved my hand to the side of her face, and ran my thumb along her jaw.
"Jill, I like what I see! And you're still the same funny, beautiful girl I used to know."
"Thanks, Kevin. I'm a used car now," Jill said.
"Be that as it may, there is a huge market for used cars."
Jill smiled at my wit.
"Come in. I have coffee. Let's go out on the back deck." Jill turned to walk through the front living room as I followed her. Her house was immaculate, exactly like I imagined it would be.
Jill wore comfortable blue jeans and a T-shirt. Comfort had become her constant companion after her health problems started. The T-shirt was long, going halfway to her knees.
"Would you grab the coffee cups? I don't trust myself not to spill."
"Of course," I said. I wasn't sure how Jill's health issues might affect her. On the outside, she was beautiful, somewhat older but as alluring as she always had been.
"I don't wear makeup much now. I don't even bother coloring my hair, not that I worried much before."
As she spoke, I looked at her blondish hair, now streaked with gray.
"You were always a practical woman, Jill."
"Maybe that's why my husband decided he didn't like me anymore."
I frowned. "You know as well as I do that whatever he does and did has nothing to do with you. That's how alcoholism gaslights people."
As Jill closed the patio door, I saw that it took her more effort. She gave me another beautiful smile.
"Thank you for reminding me. It just took all the confidence out of me."
"I would disagree. I seem to remember a beautiful woman sending me a plea for companionship earlier today." I smiled back at her, keeping my eyes on her face.
"That was desperation. I just needed to have someone here with me." Jill paused. "Not JUST anyone. You. Because I trust you."
"And do you still feel that way?" I knew that my face turned serious.
Jill nodded. "Yes. Even more in the hours that I've waited. Wondering if you might show up didn't give me hope. It made me feel like I might have lost something I never had."
I placed the two coffee cups on the small table between chairs that stood surprisingly upright.
"Damn, Jill. There's no need for that."
I moved toward her and pulled her close to me. Jill wrapped her arms around the small of my back and put her head on my chest. I used both hands to cradle her head and rub her hair.
We didn't talk as we held each other. Jill's fingers slightly rubbed my back as she held her hands together behind me. I looked out toward the trees behind her house and wondered how often she had been out here, wanting nothing more than someone to hold her like she deserved.
"I hate to break this hug. It's almost magical feeling your body heat and your hands in my hair. But my legs might give out."
When we separated, Jill tilted her head to look at my eyes. Acting on instinct, I moved my hands to her upper arms and lightly kissed her.
