A Story to tell

Sometimes the hardest thing to admit is not that we have been wrong, but that we miss or need someone that is no longer part of our life. On that Sunday, against my better judgment, I went to her. I didn't want to go and I was determined not to have a good time. It took every thing I had inside me to walk into that house. I stood near the door, ready to make my escape. After about 10 minutes of small talk with the other guest I saw my "friend" crossing the room to greet me. I felt a lump rise in my throat and my back go rigid. I tried to look away, but it was too late. There was no escape. She touched my shoulders and said she was glad that I came and then she did it. She kissed me on the cheek. I felt my heart race. I couldn't say anything. I just looked down at the floor. She moved away into the next room. I looked up at my friends who were all looking at me. They where waiting on my reaction.

Inside I was screaming and trying to keep from running out the door, but on the outside I just seemed uncomfortable. As the minutes turned to hours I finally came to a verdict. It was going to have to be me. She had invited me to her home. That was her gesture. Now it was time for me finish the story.

As the party drew to a close I found her alone. I took a deep breath and I walked right up to her. "We need to talk", I blurted out to her. And so we did. The defensive posturing seemed to fade after 10 or 15 minutes and the truth began to flow. The story of why she stopped talking to me was such a minor part of the why. The more I pressed the more feelings began to poor out. Finally, like peeling back the skins of an onion, I found the core. "I feel like you just don't need me anymore...that you'd rather hang out with those other girls", she explained. "The best times were the ones with just you and me. I really miss you". There it was the why. I reached down inside of me and I uttered the words, "I'm sorry if I hurt you. I miss you, too." We hugged. But it was the end. Things got too strained for us to try again.

In the end we both were wrong. We both let each other down and we hurt each other. They say there are three sides to every story, yours...mine and the truth. Perhaps if we didn't try so hard to have our side heard then we might find the truth a lot sooner.