If you're feeling sinister

I received a postecard from That One earlier this week. It was on wednesday. It was from New York, Brooklyn. A 5.30 am I fell asleep with my hand on it, tucked under my pillow.

I didn't think I read anything into it but I saw today that he sent something to another old friend as well and my stomach fell.

In high school, when I was away from town at my mum's on the weekend, I would wait for his messages on msn. I still can't stand the sound of the old msn notification because it makes my stomach clutch with the same nervous anticipation. At night falling asleep I would imagine him in bed next to me, arm around me. I still do.

He has a girlfriend now, I know, tho he's never mentioned her to me. Maybe he has but slipped it by by referring to "a friend".

Near the end of "Raus aus der Haut" the boy who looks like him, who longed for years for a girl who looks like I did, finally kisses her and they sleep together. I cried in the library at that scene, silently, deep in my viewing booth. He never knew how to do that and neither did I. Sitting next to him sending telepathic messages that said "okay, now put your arm around me like this..." was insufficient.



We've only even hugged two or three times in our lives. Once in a car full of our friends on the way to a party, we were four in the back seat. So we had to squish in together and he was very close to me, his leg almost on top of mine. After someone got out we were only three and there was room to spread out but he didn't. It was a moment I analysed at length afterwards. Out ineptness seems comical. We were both such teenagers, neither of us feeling very attractive, and so unsure of ourselves.

Instead, after high school we sent each other mail which we nervously signed with "love from" hoping it would either pass by as a casual, habitual gesture or else be correctly noticed and interpreted.

There was one weekend when he came to visit me in montreal and I thought it was time to make all those things that ought to have happened occur, but instead something went wrong and stayed that way for months, too long.

Now he has this girlfriend and someone else who is where I should be.

At the art gallery we both wanted to visit the model ships room first. He goes to estate sales and open houses to look at beautiful things, likes mail as I do, mailed me a big band album with my favourite song on it, sits in parks in new york, drinks soy milk.

I want to feel his hand on my waist but it is too late now.

Luckily nobody knows about this and as long as they never do it will all be fine.