I will always remember the day the DeWitt Bukaters moved down the street. I was playing basketball with my friends from across the street when a family of three parked their car in the driveway of the empty house. We all kind of stared as they entered the house, curious to see what our new neighbours looked like. I remember making mental note to go over there later and introduce myself. Half an hour later, as time to go home for dinner approached, I spotted the little girl standing on her front lawn and looking at us. I could tell she was younger than me, of two or three years maybe. She was wearing a blue sundress and her auburn hair was braided loosely, falling over her shoulder. She waved at me shyly when our eyes met and I waved back but I didn't come closer and neither did she.
"Do you want to play with us?" I asked her and she nodded, approaching the street.
When she joined us, Tom and Cameron were called inside for dinner so we were both standing in the middle of their driveway, not sure what to do next.
"What's your name?" she asked me, her voice sweet like honey.
"I'm Caledon Hockley," I answered.
"How old are you?" she continued, tilting her head to the side.
"Seven years old. What about you? What's your name? How old are you?" I replied curtly, annoyed that she was asking so many questions while I didn't get to ask any. "Where do you come from?"
"My name is Rose and I'm five," she told me. "I just moved from Boston. Do you want to be my friend?" she asked confidently.
"Sure," I said with a shrug before my grandmother called me for dinner and I ran to my house without saying goodbye.
Between my mother who died in childbirth and my father who left me on his own mother's doorstep in the middle of the night a year later, I was being raised by my grandmother. She was the sweet kind although she didn't hold back on scolding me when I did something bad. I usually behaved though sometimes, I was naturally being a plain seven-year-old boy, not scared of playing in the mud or getting into a fight.
I was fifteen years old when my friendship with Rose morphed into something different. At this point, we were going to separate schools since she was still in Junior High and I was entering High School. We had been best friends for the past nine years but now, as puberty was taking over, she was becoming more beautiful every single day. A few days before school started, she came back transformed from Italy where she had spent the summer with her parents. I was taken aback at how pretty she looked. Far from the awkward best friend that left for Europe just two months ago.
We went out for a movie and ice cream the night she came back and had an amazing time. When I walked her home afterwards, she thanked me with a smile and I felt something weird inside my stomach. A flutter. But something different from what I felt with other girls I found pretty.
"Hey, I almost forgot!" she said, running back to me from the middle of the driveway. I went weak in the knees. "You didn't tell me if something happened with Juliet."
"Juliet?" I asked with a side smile. "Nothing worth mentioning to you," I admitted. "It was just fun, you know?"
"You got into her pants, didn't you?" she asked and I chuckled.
"We fooled around, nothing more. I don't think I would want her to be my girlfriend anyway, she's kind of boring as a person. What about you, got any Italian boyfriend I should know about?"
"Oh yeah, Ernesto was quite the gentleman. He begged me to stay in Tuscany with him but I knew you would miss me too much so I decided to come back," she replied playfully. "And it was the end of our love story."
"Ha-ha. I'm sure all of this happened in real life," I replied with a bit of sarcasm.
"Alright," she laughed. "I should go, I'm tired. Jet lag," she pointed out. "Want to go for a swim tomorrow?"
"Sure," I said softly and she nodded before turning around and walking inside the house.
I went home and continued to think about her. Those feelings were scary even for me so there was no way I would declare them to anybody, especially not Rose. Not right away. Maybe it was a stupid crush because she was suddenly stunning and that it would pass. After all, she was like a sister to me.
Two years later, Mr. DeWitt Bukater passed away from cancer. Rose was devastated, of course, and wouldn't come out of her room. She didn't want to see nobody, not even me. I stopped by her house almost every day, after yet another school day where she did not show up, because I wanted to make sure she knew I would be there for her when the time came. I was hopeful that she would let me see her but every day, her mother would tell me the same thing. Rose didn't want to see anybody. Sometimes I spotted her in the living room, lying on the couch, asleep. After several weeks, Ruth followed me out on the porch and we sat down on the front steps. I could see what she had to tell me wouldn't be easy to say or to hear. There was a long moment of silence where we just stared ahead and then Ruth turned to me.
"Rose has depression," she finally admitted. "At first I thought she was only grieving but then she wouldn't stop sleeping. She was barely eating and she didn't have the energy to do anything. I got worried. We saw doctors and that's what she was diagnosed with."
"Is she going to be alright?" I asked, filled with worry and sadness.
"She was prescribed some medication and it should get better really soon. She asked for you today. She would be happy to see you, I think."
"Yes, of course. I can't wait to see her, I miss her so much," I admitted before getting up to follow her inside my second home.
"She's in her room," she simply said and I nodded before climbing up the stairs quietly.
The door to her room was opened but when I peeked inside, I saw that the drapes were shut and that the only thing lightening the room were the string lights her father had installed in her room when she was still an innocent child. I knocked softly as a warning and stepped inside. She was lying in her bed, the covers hiding most of her body. I could only see her messy hair. She moved, peeked out and our eyes met. There was nothing in her eyes. The spark that used to be there was nowhere to be seen and large rims of red surrounded them. I almost didn't recognize her. Her face was long and tired. Skinny. She looked so frail in that bed.
"Hi," I whispered, showing a small smile.
"Hi," she whispered back, her voice cracking. "Can you close the door, please?"
I did what I was told then walked closer to her bed as she sat up weakly.
"I'm sorry I pushed you away," she said. "Truth is I needed you more than anything."
"It's alright," I said, sitting next to her. "It's alright."
I took her in my arms and she cried in my chest. My heart was beating so fast and I wondered if she could feel it. Her body was shaking against mine and I felt her arms wrap around me tightly. I ran my hand up and down her back in a reassuring move, trying to calm her down.
"I'm here now. Everything will be okay," I whispered.
That summer, while I worked full-time as a Ferris wheel operator, I saw Rose slowly fall in love with a boy who moved in just before the school year ended. Jack Dawson. A free-minded artist, a wild spirit. He was everything Rose could possibly like in a guy. He was everything I was not. While I was a football player who attracted any girl in school, the only girl I wanted was the only one who didn't want me. Even if she was cheering for me from the bleachers at every game, I was nothing more than her best friend.
Jack was kissing my girl, buying her gifts, taking her out, treating her like a princess. She barely had time to see me anymore and she didn't even seem to realize how she left me out of her life that summer. She could never go out for ice cream like we did on every Friday night since we were old enough to go by ourselves. She was always with him. I called her at night, sometimes, when I was sure she'd be alone in her room and we'd talk but she mostly talked about Jack while I listened, broken-hearted. I needed to tell her how I felt. If I told her, maybe she'd realize she was in love with me, too. I was starting my senior year in September and I wanted to take her to prom. I had been waiting for that moment for almost four years and there was no one else I'd rather take.
When school started, I was avoiding her in the corridors. Soon, though, she realized it and stopped looking out for me when she walked from one class to the next. I didn't see her at the football games either, even if there was not a single one where I didn't look for her in the bleachers. I missed her. I missed her smile, I missed her hair, I missed the way she smelled, I missed the sparkle in her eyes when I made her laugh.
In November, on a Friday night, she called me at home. She spoke with my grandmother for a moment then asked to talk to me. I picked the phone reluctantly, lying on my bed. I listened to the sound of her breathing for a few seconds then said hello.
"Hi," she said, and I melted inside. There was a long moment of silence where I did not know what to say. "Cal, are you there?"
"Yes," I answered, my voice cracking. "What do you want?" I asked and immediately regretted the tone of my voice.
"I've... Why are you like this?"
"Like what?"
"Mad at me."
"I... I'm not mad at you," I said with a nervous chuckle.
"Then why won't you even look at me in school? Why don't you come over anymore?"
I swallowed the lump in my throat but let the tear fall from the corner of my eye. Because I love you, I wanted to say but instead it came out like this:
"I'm really busy with the extra credits I've taken on," I partially lied. "I'm going to college next year, remember?"
"Since when is that a reason to avoid your best friend?" she asked. "Can you go out? Can we meet someplace?"
"Okay," I finally caved in. "I'll be in our spot in fifteen minutes if you are," I said.
"Okay, I'll see you there," she replied and I heard the smile in her voice.
She broke up with Jack around March after ten months of relationship and I invited her to prom a month later. She accepted but I got friendzoned once again that same second. She still didn't know how I felt about her but I could tell she didn't feel the same way for me so I didn't know what was the point of telling her anymore.
On prom night, I picked her up and I was speechless when I saw her wearing the teal-colored dress to which I got a matching tie. I put on the corsage I bought for her then she hugged me to thank me. I breathed in the smell of her, knowing that this would be what I'd miss the most when I'd be away at college in the fall. Brown was four states away and I know I wouldn't be able to come home as much as I'd like to. I wrapped my arm around her and kissed the top of her head.
We had fun that night with our friends. We danced, we talked, we laughed and for a second, it was almost like we were just kids and that I didn't have this kind of feelings for her.
We walked back home, the small breeze just enough to cool us down. She told me how she was maybe considering going to Brown too, two years from now. I smiled at the thought of us together through college, just like the rest of our lives so far.
"I don't know what I'll do without you next year," she admitted. "It's going to be different... weird even. You've been there since kindergarten. You were my first friend, did you know that?"
"You mean, here, in Philly?"
"No, I mean like ever."
I put my arm across her shoulders and brought her close before ruffling her hair undone of their up-do. She pushed me away, laughing, and ran. I caught up with her in her driveway and when she turned around to see if I was behind her, I took her face delicately into my hands and kissed her. She took a step back and looked up at me, a confused frown on her face.
"What are you doing?" she asked, her tone sounding faintly disgusted.
"I..." I began nervously, hating myself. "I'm sorry, I just... I..." I stuttered. She was looking at me like I was a monster.
"I have to go," she said with a shake of the head before turning on her heels and heading for the front door.
"Rose, wait! Please. I don't want things to get weird, okay? I... I'm sorry..." I trailed but she had already closed the door without looking back at me.
I waited for a few minutes, hoping she would come back, but she didn't so I walked up the street to my house. I went to sleep, hoping I would wake up the next morning and that last night had all been a dream.
But it wasn't.
And she refused to see me or talk to me.
I hated myself. I knew it would somehow end up like this but I kissed her anyway, not thinking of the consequences. Now that was the price to pay for being an idiot.
A month later, I found a letter from her in the mail. She was sorry. For that night. For her reaction. For everything. And we agreed never to talk about it again.
Six years later, at my Manhattan apartment, I opened the mail to find Rose and Jack's wedding invitation. My heart stopped in my chest. I knew they had been together for four years now but I never expected it would end up like this. I had not spoken with Rose in three months, our jobs keeping us both busy, but I was still hurt by the fact that she didn't care enough about me to pick up the phone and announce it to me personally.
I RSVP'd that I'd be going, of course, even if the thought of seeing her marrying someone else made me sick already.
She called me a few weeks later while I was still at work and I grinned when I heard her cheery greeting.
"How are things? How's the wedding planning?" I asked.
"Great. Everything moves really fast," she said with a small laugh. "You're still coming, right?"
"Of course," I said. "Wouldn't miss it."
There was a moment of silence and I wondered if she was still there until I heard her breathing nervously into the phone.
"Are you okay? Is everything alright?" I asked, worried.
"It's just... I wanted to ask you something but I also feel kind of bad for asking it," she blurted out. "It's just... My dad is..." she trailed off.
"I'll do it," I replied instantly, not sure why the words left my mouth.
"Are you sure?" she asked. "I mean... I'd understand, you know?"
"I just said I'd do it," I said, a smile in my voice.
I was giving her away one way or another so why not do it the proper way?
I was looking at my reflection in the mirror. Black suit, black tie, hair perfectly combed, face freshly shaven. I took the glass of whiskey on the counter and gulped it down. I stared at myself one last time before exiting the room. I knocked softly on the door across the corridor, only to be invited inside.
I opened the door and walked in, slowly taking in the sight of her in that long white dress. I almost cried. She looked at me, grinning widely and I smiled back.
"You look beautiful," I told her. "Jack is one lucky guy."
"I tell him so every day, just so you know," she said, laughing.
"Good. He needs to know," I said.
"I need your help, 'kay?" she said.
"Sure," I replied, already arranging her veil without her having to ask.
"She'll be lucky too."
"Who?"
"The woman you're going to marry."
"Yeah, that is not happening any time soon," I told her with my eyebrow raised. "All set. Ready?"
She nodded nervously and I took her hand in mine. She was smiling brightly and even though today felt like my funeral, I was grateful to see her so happy. She deserved to be.
I walked her down the aisle and gave her away, making sure to personally put her hand into Jack's.
"She's all yours," I told him, my voice cracking.
I looked at Rose one more time and forced a smile, feeling like I would break down at this right moment. I walked back to my seat in the third row and waited a few minutes before slipping away without anyone noticing. Outside, I took a deep breath of fresh air, calming down the nausea. I took the flask out of the inside pocket of my jacket and drank. I sat on the side steps and waited then finally took a taxi to the hotel I was staying at.
That night, around eight, there was a persistent knock on my room's door and if I began by ignoring it, I finally got up and opened it. On the other side was my best friend, small smudges of mascara under her eyes, still managing to look stunning. I swallowed. My hair was a mess and my breath probably stank of alcohol.
"What are you doing here?" I finally asked. "Why aren't you at the reception?"
"Why did you leave?"
"You know why I left," I simply replied.
"Don't you think that maybe I needed you to be there? My parents are gone, Cal. You're my family, you're home. And you just left me there."
"No. Don't you get it? That night, six years ago, you were my home too," I said and a sob escaped her mouth. "And you left me standing there," I continued, repeating her words. "I'm not your family anymore, Rose," I explained. "I can't."
"Why not?" she asked, a tear falling down her cheek.
"Because I love you too much. And it hurts me. And you cannot ask me to stand there and watch you be happy with someone else," I said, my eyes filling with tears, a lump in my throat. "You have the most important part of me, Rose. What else do you want from me?"
"The boy who promised to be my friend forever."
I remembered the day we were in our tree house in my grandmother's backyard and Rose gave me a friendship bracelet she made, one identical to the one she was wearing on her own wrist. We promised. Friends forever. Cross our heart and hope to die.
"Right."
"Right?"
I took out my wallet while she looked at my every move. I took it out. The bracelet.
"Give me your arm," I instructed and she did. "There," I said softly, tying the old bracelet around her wrist. "Friends forever," I whispered before taking her in a hug and kissing her forehead.