all the text said was “i’m sorry that she was my maid of honor. i’ve wanted to tell you that for a long time.”
the tears flooded my eggs. we were at breakfast, goddamnit. i tried to wipe my tears with my napkin and sink into my crooked chair.
why now? why send that text now?
it’s not that i don’t think about you every day. it’s not that i don’t remember the day we met. it’s not that i don’t remember the first day we moved in together and jumped on our beds just because we could. it’s not that i don’t remember the night we went to the sold out say anything show and flirted our way in. it’s not that i don’t see the tattoo on my foot every single day. it’s not that i don’t remember that day you got married and how hard it was for me to let you go.
we left the restaurant. you didn’t ask me what was wrong. i just drove us home and told you i wanted to be alone. i wanted to cry alone. i wanted to remember what it was like to have a best friend. i wanted to remember what it was like to laugh so hard at my ridiculous ex-boyfriends that it brought us to tears.
and trust me, i do remember you. i remember that you taught me how to love and how to forgive.