He was my best friend.
We'd met just after we both graduated high school, at a café downtown. It was a typically hot desert afternoon, and the few people who were stupid enough to be outside looked like wilting flowers, myself included, I'm sure. I dressed how I always dressed in the summer, light t-shirts and denim shorts, flat sandals on my feet, hair in a ponytail. I sat outside drinking hot chocolate, of all things to drink in that kind of heat, and reading a book. I heard a chair clatter to the patio off to my left, and startled, I looked up. A guy about my age was picking the chair up, with an embarrassed look on his face. He was lined with the shadows from the strips in the awning overhead, and he glanced at me sheepishly, then sat down with his drink and went about his business.
I was amused enough by his klutzy behavior to want to go over and ask if he wanted some company. I wasn't immediately attracted to him; he wasn't my type. I usually went for the taller guys with the dark hair and the light eyes, either bright blue or hazel-green. This guy had bushy red hair and brown eyes, and freckles all over, and he was shorter than me. He wore glasses, and was dressed much the same way I was; a t-shirt and denim shorts, except mine were SHORT, his went to his knees. He looked like he was fun, and I was looking for some company.
"Hi," I said brightly, causing him to glance up from his laptop.
"Hi," he said in reply, the lenses of his glasses shrinking the upper half of his face, and immediately went back to his computer.
Well, that was how it started. I wouldn't let him ignore me, and after a few attempts at conversation I finally got him to put that computer away. I was right, he was fun, but he still wasn't my type. As I got to know him, I found out he was interested in many of the things that I wasn't; he was into computers, I was a musician. He liked horror flicks, I liked comedies and dramas. He liked seafood, I hated the stuff. And on and on, but he became a good friend. I found out then that we were both going to the local university in the fall, and that was basically how our friendship got started.
One day, during our sophomore year, after a class we'd managed to take together, he walked with me over to the student union. That was where I usually went after that class but he generally went over to the main computer lab to work on whatever he needed to work on for his computer science classes. I still couldn't figure that out; what was so fascinating about computers? Me, I loved my music classes; I loved learning how compositions were put together, I loved learning how to sing (I was a violin performance major), I loved being able to make beautiful sounds. Computers, while yes, I used them, and was fairly proficient at troubleshooting them, just bored me. But then, I'm sure he looked at my music the same way.
But I digress. He walked with me to the student union, where we grabbed a couple of sandwiches from a small deli, and then went out onto the mall to stake out a piece of grass and eat. We ate our sandwiches quietly under the paltry shade of an overly tall palm tree, and then stretched out as we both had another hour before our next class. We talked about school, our classes, professors we liked and hated, and then the conversation lulled. I was staring out over the grass, back across to the red brick of the union, when I felt his gaze boring into the side of my skull.
I turned and looked straight at him, and said, "Something I can help you with?" I was smiling.
He stumbled over his words for a moment, looking down at the ground, and then finally managed, "Shara, I know we're just friends right now, but I was wondering if you wanted to..." he paused and took a deep breath, "...if you wanted to maybe make it more than that?" Those last few words all ran together. He heaved a sigh of relief, as though by saying that a great weight had been lifted off his chest.
I looked at him askance. "Is that why you came to eat lunch with me today?"
"Yes, no, well, yes. I don't know. I mean, I've- oh, never mind." He turned away from me.
I put a hand on his shoulder and prompted, "You've what?" He shook his head, and I said more insistently, "What?"
Taking another deep breath, but refusing to look at me, he said, "I've had a...sort of a crush on you...for awhile. I was hoping that maybe...that you felt the same way?" His voice had a lot of hope in it.
I sighed and looked down, and picked some grass off my shirt. "Oh Peter, I'm sorry. There's this guy in my theory class, and he-" I stopped. If Peter really did have a crush on me I'd best not be talking about other guys to him.
He said, "That's okay. I knew it was a long shot anyway." The cheer in his voice sounded so false it almost broke my heart. I didn't mean to hurt him, but I'd never thought of him that way. At this point, I didn't know if I could think of him that way. I felt like all girls feel about their best male bud; he was more like a brother to me.
School went on, and we both graduated at the same time. During that time we'd gotten so close that we felt comfortable walking into each others' apartments without knocking, and sometimes, whoever was the guest would spend the night on the couch. We weren't inseparable, but romance with others had been hindered by our friendship, as other guys and girls didn't like us being so close to each other. I started to get frustrated, because he seemed more needy in the friendship, especially when I was seeing someone else. Like he was jealous. He'd tried to ask me out a few more times, and I tried to be gentle each time as I told him no, and explained that I just didn't feel that way about him.
It all came to a head one night, about a month after graduation, when every college grad who has not yet landed a job is frantically searching for one. I had managed to get a job with the local symphony, and while it didn't pay well, it was a start. My goal was to eventually play with a group like the Chicago Symphony, or better yet, the London Symphony. His goal was to be a computer engineer with a major firm, but he had not yet gotten a job, and was, of course, frantically looking for one.
I found him engaged in this activity one night when I went over to his place, more out of boredom than anything. My new boyfriend was an understanding guy, moreso than the previous guys had been, but he was on vacation with his parents; one last family vacation together before he, too, began trying to make his way in the big, bad world.
Peter glanced up from his laptop as I walked in the door. He smiled warmly. "Hey you, I was wondering if I was going to get to see you this week." The light bounced off his glasses, making it difficult for me to see his eyes.
"Howdy yourself, stranger," I said back. I plopped down on the couch next to him and said, "Gotta love living in the desert. You got anything to drink?" I fanned myself with my t-shirt.
He nodded, got up and grabbed a couple of sodas from his fridge. I noticed his coffee table was strewn with papers; cover letters and various versions of resumes were laying about. I wondered why he hadn't found job yet; he had graduated with a 3.8 GPA and an impressive array of extracurricular activities. I pondered his situation while he was in the kitchen. After a moment, he was back, and I cracked open my can of soda immediately, downing nearly half of it in one gulp. He gingerly sipped his, and put it on the coffee table, the already dripping condensation on the can making a small ring on the surface.
"How's things with you? Rehearsals started yet?" He asked.
"No, not till next week. I'm not totally sure I'm looking forward to it, but I'm not dreading it. At least they're a decent group. What about you?"
"Nothing, as I'm sure you can see. I've put in resumes with so many companies now that I can't count them, and I haven't heard anything from any of them." He sounded angry.
I shrugged and said, "How many resumes do you send out each day?"
"Dozens, it feels like," he replied. He shook his head, then said, "Let's not talk about this anymore. It just makes me mad. What else is going on with you?"
"Nothing at all," I replied. I'd tried not to talk about my boyfriends with him since sophomore year. It didn't always work.
