best friends

you can be my best friend,

and we can hold hands everyday on the way to school -
or you can move 300 miles away and we won’t hold hands anymore.


but you can still be my best friend, if you’d like?



---



<sub>it’s ten years later that we meet – quite by chance

you’re giving me this look and -
i have a bag full of bottle caps and –
and it’s not mysterious or intriguing or anything.

it’s just annoying, and they jingle and clatter together when I’m walking and –

it’s just annoying. okay?

and why should i even talk to you?
when you promised me you’d stay in touch and that we’d always be best friends –

but you didn’t. and now we’re not. so why should i even talk to you?

you – you have untied shoelaces and mismatching socks
so i don’t believe you are in any position to give me looks and -

and suddenly we’re in a bar and i’m kissing you. and suddenly it’s two weeks later and we’re best friends once more and i’m getting to know you all over again. flaws and all.</sub>


---


we miss your daughters birthday party because we’re too busy having sex.
by the time we get there the guests are starting to leave and the cake has been eaten.

i am filled with guilt and disgust, and all you say is “it doesn’t matter.”


“it does.”



“she’s only young, she’ll soon forget”

i say “it matters to me.”

and you say “why? it’s not like she’s your kid or anything.”

i’d like to tell you what I think of you.
but your expression changes as your daughter runs towards us and you swoop her in your arms, and it’s all smiles and “daddy’s sorry he’s late sweetheart. but i - we got you a present. it’s in the car, do you want me to -”

and your gorgeous girl is grinning and hugging you so tightly that i’m not sure she even hears you. then suddenly she remembers and interrupts “we saved you some cake!” and she turns to look at me “both of you, it’s chocolate!” she cries excitedly.

later she holds my hand as she guides me round the garden introducing me to her best friend Shaun, her dolls and her stuffed animals. “this is my dads best friend” she says because that’s what we’ve told her to tell people.

“she’s not my mum, but my dad loves her. so that means i do as well.”   

i ignore you for the rest of the party. and though i’m angry i manage to fake smiles as i talk to your six year old about jelly and how much she loves my hair, knowing this will be the most adult and honest conversation i have all day.



<sub>---



years later he thinks she’s forgotten how he was late for her birthday.
and she has.

all she remembers is eating chocolate cake and playing dolls in the garden with Shaun and that women - with dark hair.</sub>



---



you tell me how you’re going to quit.

and i tell you how i’ve heard it all before.

“it’s hard” you say.

“i’m sure it is.”

and you say some more things you’ll regret later.

what i don’t tell you is that even if you didn’t quit i wouldn’t care.
because all i’ve ever wanted is you – and you’re bloody perfect. flaws and all.


<sub>---


you hit the wall when your daughter tells you she’s sixteen and pregnant,
and you hit it once more when you find out the baby is Shaun’s.

i tell you to calm down and “can’t you see that she’s crying?”
you hold her in your arms and tell her, “it’s okay, god you’re so bloody stupid. but it’s alright. it’s going to be okay.” and me and Shaun look at each other awkwardly, but somehow i think we all know you’re telling the truth.</sub>


---


maybe it’s because you’re her dad and dad’s always seem to make things okay even if they’re not. even if they are late for your birthday once in a while.

or maybe it’s because he’s watched this scene play out before. only he’s the awkward teenager and he doesn’t love the girl who’s crying in her fathers arms. he loves someone else. someone who lives 300 miles away. someone he can never be with. not now.  

they were never "together". so they never had to break up.
he never loved her. but when she’s born he bloody loves his daughter.
he lives for her.

and that’s all he does. until one day he’s walking down the high street and there’s this woman with a big black bag slung over her shoulder. with every step she takes the bag threatens to erupt and spill the contents across the pavement, he laughs to himself and continues to stare as she gets closer, brushing her fringe out of her vision she looks up and they make eye contact.


and then it hits him.


<sub>---


it’s three months later that Shaun proposes to your daughter
and another six until you become a grandfather.</sub>  

“that makes you sound old” <sub>i say.

and you tell me that you feel old.
i laugh and tell you that you look it.

you mutter disapproving things about kids playing on the grass and that back in your day people had more respect for their elders. i laugh, as you shuffle around the waiting room with your imaginary walking stick, soon your feet shuffle faster, with rhythm and to a beat as you begin to dance and extend a hand for me to join you.

we spin in circles and people look up from their magazines like this is something they do not see everyday. this is not correct behaviour and we should conduct ourselves in a serious manner, perhaps we should pace the room anxiously or continually harass nurses with pointless questions?

no thank you.

i am quite content spinning in your arms, and letting the world carry on for a while.

.  
we slow down and you ask me,</sub> “do you think we’ll ever get married?”


_{i stop momentarily,
and i think about this as though the thought has never crossed my mind.}


“no._{” i decide,} “i don’t suppose we will.”

<sub>we stop spinning altogether now, and a smiling nurse beckons us to come through.

you nod, and reassure yourself</sub> “it wouldn’t change anything anyway.”

_{i smile, taking your hand and leading you towards the sounds of crying babies.}


“no, but you can still be my best friend, if you’d like?”