Sometimes it's good to go back.

“On your way to work you see her walking through the streets. You see how the breeze moves her hair to her back, and you see how her walk changes from normal to lighter, stronger, extraordinary. Her body swings accentuating her thoroughly designed curves. Neither the people nor the street bother her, and she carries her course as if she knows exactly where she’s going, she knows exactly what will happen next. She’s in control. The sun gleams at her to show her very best traits. Her dark skin that stands out from the rest, her hair that leaps with her walk, bright, natural black, and then the bright blue skirt she wears with a yellow shirt. High heels to show off her legs. A large purse and a book in her hand. Sunglasses to cover her eyes. Beautiful.”

“You only look at her once, and that’s all you need. You are hooked, trapped, stuck on her. You stand on the other side of the street, about twenty meters away from her. You don’t approach her, you just walk ahead on the same direction she is, your head turned to her, and you can’t take your eyes off her. You picture in your mind the thousand things you’d do with her, to her, and the thousand places you’d explore with her and on her. Definitely your type of girl, surely all you could ever want or need.”

“She walks into a building. A white, four story building, without even looking at you. You suddenly stop, and fix your eyes on this structure that separates you from her. There are signs and billboards from this company. Ornamented, colorful, abstract. Probably advertisement or publishing of some sort. You take into account every single detail that can help you memorize this very morning, so that you can over play it on your head like TIVO and hopefully repeat it some other day.”

I looked at him as I recreated his very own story, his eyes looked at mine, and he remained silent. As best friends we were we kept this dynamic, in which when either of us needed help, we would take any measures we saw fit to help, no matter how drastic they were. Having to interrupt the night when he was supposed to propose to who I saw as the wrong woman for him was perhaps the hardest thing I had to do when it came to our friendship, but it was necessary. Had it not been now it would have been too late.

“The next morning you keep at your routine. You wake up, take a bath, put your clothes, and go to the kitchen. You are a twenty-four year old man who lives alone at a one bedroom apartment in central Madrid, enjoying the good life. You have your breakfast, eggs and toasts, grab your stuff and go to work. You always park your Audi a block away in a parking lot where you bought a spot a year ago. You start walking towards your office. Everything is fine, but one thing, you miss her. You want to look at her again. The clock says it is nine ten. About the same time you saw her the day before. So you finally figure to turn your head to your left, but among the sea of people that walk through these magical Spanish sidewalks, she’s not there. Taking a pause, you look back, and you see a coffee place that has always been there, but you had never felt the need to go in until today.”

“You rush through the street and make it to the coffee’s door. When you open it, you feel the breeze as you come in. People sharing breakfast and random conversations, others in line, some smiling as they finish their business, everyone on their own, and it’s as if everything is in fast motion and you are stuck. And then time goes back to its regular pace, when she emerges in front of your eyes. Remember when you told me that story? That day when she wore a green dress that showed her legs, legs like ones you had never seen before, and a flower on her hair, when she looked so tropical, so unique. Her hair had waves, you had said, and it fell long through her back, and her shoulders, and it was everywhere. And when she passed her hand through it, a lavender scent spread through the room, even stronger than the coffee smell that characterized the room. Do you remember any of this?”

“What about when you looked at each other. She stared you as if you were crazy, didn’t she? You standing there all retarded daydreaming right on her face. And yet she was so understanding, so compassionate, and so sympathetic. She was kind enough to smile at you and say hi, and then laugh when you still couldn’t react. ‘I looked like a total idiot. I don’t know how she kept talking to me.’ You had told me. But then you woke up, and introduced yourself. You asked her if she’d wait for you so you could have coffee with her. She said she was on a little rush, but that she would wait for you if you walked her to work. Obviously, you agreed, and rushed to get your drink. You told me that had been the best morning in Madrid. It feels like yesterday when this all happened.”

“But time passes. I know. Anyways, you walked with her, you talked to her. Her voice was music to your ears. Sometimes you can be so corny, let me tell you. Well, you told me you felt as if you knew her forever. She spoke in a very familiar manner, dominated all the subjects you mentioned, she impressed you. Once again. She told you she was a writer, but her day job was working at an editorial. You thought that was interesting. She had a column in a newspaper as well. Somehow the image didn’t fit with the concept. But still you liked her. What worried you next was that she’d think you were too boring and null. You are an engineer after all. That day you went to work, and did nothing. The next morning you got her phone number as you walked with her. Those little walks became your tradition. That afternoon, you called her, and made dinner plans the next Friday night. I never told you this, but she called me that day. That’s right, I knew her all along.”

So far he had been looking at the floor, the window, the wall, everywhere but me. But at this point, once I spilled the last words, his head rapidly flipped towards me with his eyes opened as light bulbs. I couldn’t feel any worse. His shock became my biggest torture. I knew how much this hurt him. All he had wanted for a long time was to get over this, and not touch the subject again. He felt he was already there, until now, when I had to bring it up again.

“You kept dating for a couple of months. You always told me that you both felt as if you had been together for ever, to you this was more like a reencounter rather than two strangers knowing each other. I guess that’s why things with you two always were so fast. After seven months, you moved into her apartment. Everything went so well. Ten months in you asked her to marry you, and she agreed. She had published a new book, which was a success. You got a promotion with a fabulous pay. Both of you lived an amazing life in the city of Madrid. You were never happier, not even now that you’re with Lindsay.”

“She came home one day with plain tickets. She asked you to come to London with her, for a week. You reluctantly agreed. Work was a little over your head, there were some things to pay, including a car you wanted to surprise her with, but she was too excited about it, so there was nothing you could do. She loved surprising you. You loved her spontaneity. You had an amazing time at England, although there were moments when she apparently had to figure some things out at work, where she left you at the hotel without letting you know her whereabouts. This unsettled you, but it wasn’t major or anything. After that in Madrid it was all normal again. It actually felt great to be home. Until a about three weeks later, when she suddenly became quiet, reluctant, shy, uninterested, she did things not because she wanted to, or cared, but because she had to. You called me. You were worried. You cared for her. You loved her.”

“I listened. I listened to you ramble about all of your worries, knowing what was wrong. You don’t know how hard it was for me, but she had begged me not to tell you. I told you to be there for her, and to let her be. If there was something wrong, she would tell you when she though right. Of that I was sure. And wrong as well. You did everything I told you, the exact way I had said. ‘It hasn’t worked.’ You called me again. ‘We still aren’t speaking. I’m gonna start talking about the wedding you know. Get her to start thinking about making it happen. Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe that’ll get her moods up or something.’ I said I’d back you up whenever you needed me to. So you went for it.”

“She did react when you popped the subject, you would recall. You expected a larger performance on her part, but just the fact that you got her attention was enough for you. She started talking hastily about dresses, bridesmaids, places, caterers. Everything. She called a wedding planner right away. You had never seen her that way, you laughed so hard at it. And then it all started coming together. You had a date, around mid May, a place, she had a designer for her dress, a caterer, things were in order. Then everything started to come true. She had the dress, you guys saw the place, you tried the food, gave out invitations, the whole things. Three weeks before the wedding. I was your best man, and proud to be so. We were all so happy for you both. You were meant to be with her. You are meant to be with her. I told you that day we had lunch together.”

“Yes, I know tragedy came in. I know that two days later, when you got home, you found nothing of her there. I know she left. What is worse, I knew she was planning on leaving. You said I was awkward at lunch. There you go, that was it. My cell phone rang, and I knew it was you from that very moment. Your voice was broken, and you just kept yelling at me ‘She’s gone! She’s gone! None of her stuff is here! None of it.’ I went straight over to your place, and saw you cry on the corner of the room. I told you I’d take care of the wedding. You told me to wait, that she might be coming back. And I somberly said she wouldn’t. I had known about it for a while. So you let me take care of things. You didn’t speak for a week, no work, no anything. You just stayed in bed, and when you didn’t you just walked around the house like a ghost. You never hear from her again. She did try to get in touch with you from time to time though. I just decided it would be best not to let her. I wanted to protect you, you know. Thing is, she did leave you a letter when she left. And then wrote many, many things that I later threw away. But I went to your apartment and took it before you could see it. But I believe that now you should read it, before you close that chapter forever by marrying this other girl.”

And so I gave him the letter, which read:

“Hi, my love. I am so sorry you have to read this letter, for this means I am gone. And no, I’m not coming back. There are things going on right now that unfortunately I cannot share with you, and I can’t start our marriage with such secrets. I know you deserve better than this, you deserve better than me, and therefore, I am letting you go. Again, I am so sorry, and I feel so guilty. I’ve made a fool out of you by running away twice already. I don’t expect you to understand this, and you can resent me as much as you need to. Still, hopefully someday you will forgive me. The many times I said I loved you, were true, I meant them. And so were all the gestures and phrases and stories I wrote you. I do realize all the damage I have inflicted to you over the years, and unfortunately I have to say, it was a mistake to restart this relationship in a first place. I shouldn’t have done it, and certainly, I shouldn’t have taken it this far. It also hurts my heart to leave, but like I said, I have to go. I love you, and always will, and I know that no matter how many times I say those words I can never fix this. I know. But do remember it is true, my feelings for you are true, and I did want to spend the rest of my life with you. Never forget that.”

As he read the letter, I saw a tear coming from his eye. He wiped it quickly. He did not say a word for a couple of minutes, and neither did I. It was all wrong, me keeping all of this stuff from him. Then he raised his head, took a breath, and asked me, with a faint low tone:

“There’s something. Something I don’t understand. It says something about running away twice already. Talks about pain inflicted for so many years. But, I met her year and a half ago. It doesn’t make sense.”

My heart sank. My stomach was ripped out from its core, a not tied right on my throat.

“Yeah. There is an explanation, it does make sense. I told you, the day you met her, that she called me and told me she ran into you. Remember how you kept telling me how familiar you felt with her, as if you had known her for years? Well, you did. From high school. It’s her. It’s always been her. And before you say anything, I know it was wrong to trick you that way. I mean, I still don’t believe you couldn’t recognize her. She is different, yes, but still, I mean. Well, she asked me not to tell you anything. She wanted to give you a try from scratch, see if you two could finally make it work. She believed that this was the only way, the best way. That was until her last checkup. At the doctor’s that is.”
He looked more confused than ever. Questions popped on his head and I could see all the little, and the big, question marks as if I was watching a cartoon.

“It can’t be her. Not from high school. Couldn’t. Don’t you think I would have noticed that the woman I was going to marry to went to the same high school I did? That I was with her as a teen? Wouldn’t I have noticed those simple DETAILS?!” He paused. Looked me in the eye. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. She called me and told me. About your get together. Everything. She then kept me posted. I always knew what she would be up to. She never had bad intentions, I swear. That’s the only reason why I played her game. All she wanted was for you guys to work things out.”

“What was it that you said about a doctor? Does it have anything to do with her leaving me almost at the altar? Was there something wrong?”

“She had gone to the doctor, for a checkup. She hadn’t been feeling well. You know she suffered from fatigue, sometimes she felt stiff, and she had become so clumsy, lost her appetite. You thought it was stress because of the wedding. Anyways, she went to the doctor, just to be sure. But her doctor thought necessary to do more tests. He insisted that being thorough was in her best interest. He wanted to be sure of his diagnosis, since her symptoms were very unusual for her age.”

“I accompanied her to the clinic. They drew blood, took scans, interviews, observation. When she went to that spa for the weekend, she lied, she was admitted at a clinic for special observation. They ruled out cancer, Alzheimer’s, and many other diseases whose names are too complicated for me to remember. Two weeks afterwards, she got a call, from her doctor, asking her to go to his office that very afternoon. He said he didn’t have any good news. She called me right away and asked me to go with her. She was so scared. I always though you should have known. You deserved to know from the beginning. It was your right to comfort her, support her, and be there when she needed. But she didn’t want to be a burden. Not with that timing, she saw you were so excited. Besides, her pride was always an obstacle, remember?”

“We met at the waiting room. As soon as I got there, we walked in. The doctor had a serious face, his eyes weary, he had drawn all the scans and the results on the table and prepared to explain. She cut him off. ‘Just tell me what it is. I don’t care how or why.’ I looked at her wondering if that was what she really wanted. Well, it was. You knew her well, you know how she is, once she makes her mind, nothing can change it. So the doctor without hesitating blurted. ‘It’s Parkinson’s.’ He paused. ‘You have time, and it can be treated, I mean, controlled. You can live a normal life for a long time.’ ‘Yeah. Thanks. I’ll call you tomorrow.’ And she just walked away, and I followed. That was the moment she told me she would leave. I’m sorry I never mentioned this. I feel so terrible. You don’t know how hard it’s been.”

“You kept all of this from me for two years. Two years! What were you thinking? And why now? Why do you tell me this today? On the day I was supposed to seal the deal, give my heart away to someone who has been there, who will be there. Who I know that won’t run away! When I was going to hand myself to the woman who fixed me after she left? Why?”

“Because I don’t believe that Lindsey is meant for you. I believe you belong with her, no matter how many times she has left you. Thing is you always let her go. You never went out to find her. You know you don’t love Lindsey. Not nearly as half as you loved her. And neither you nor Lindsey deserves this. You deserve to be happy, truly happy, and you are on the wrong track to achieve that. You should try to find her. I know she was the one who wronged you, but after all, she needs you, even when she won’t admit it.”

“At this point it probably doesn’t make a difference. She left, and was set to forget me, there’s nothing I can do.”

“That’s not a call for you to make, whether she forgets you or not. Look, all I am saying is, that before you shut her down from your life for good, from your memories, maybe you should rethink. Find her, be with her, talk things with her, clear it all up, and if afterwards you still don’t feel as if you belong with her, and that Lindsey is your better match, then come back and marry Lindz, as you intended. My point is, its worth taking the shot. Your happiness is worth the risk.”

He meditated for a while about this. He thought long and strong. I served him a drink. He drank slowly, without saying a word. I refilled his glass, and mine as well. But by the end his was full and mine was empty. The silence was unbearable. I didn’t know what to say.

“Anyways. I only told you this because I know you still care for her, and because I know you always will, no matter what she did to you. Question is, what are you going to do about it? Will you fight for her? Show her how much you still love her? Just so you know, last thing I heard from her was that she went back with her parents, to a small town near La Coruña. Yes, she still in Spain. She always said she loved it there. So well, it’s your call. You do as you feel right. I hope you can forgive me someday for this. It was wrong, but it was for the best.”

He stood up and took a very deep breath. Another one. Then he held my hand and hugged me, as brothers we felt. We stayed that way for a while. And then he whispered to my ear: “Thanks for being my friend throughout these years. I don’t want to see you ever again.” Then he let go and walked away, shutting the door behind me. He never told me what he was going to do. I had no idea at the time. But it did not take me long to figure it out anyways. Five months later I got a wedding invitation with a note attached: “He doesn’t know I sent you this, but I couldn’t keep you in the dark.” Apparently he had made the right call, for once.