In all of the excitement over moving in, I've managed to forget just how complicated moving out can be. My longtime roommate, J, and I have always joked that whenever we finally would separate, it would be like going through a divorce. Little did we know then how close to reality that would come.
It would be fair to say it all came to a head last night, when we tried to have a 'discussion' over finding J a new roommate. It quickly down-spiraled from discussion to heated debate to an all-out brawl.
Over the past couple of months, J has always gotten defensive and snippy every time I approached the subject of moving in with C. Thus, I've consciously avoided the topic with her, and I can pretty accurately say I've been harboring resentment toward her because of it.
J said she's not just bothered by the fact that I'm moving out, but mostly by the fact that our friendship has 'changed'.
"Why?" she demanded.
"How am I supposed to know?" I replied, "but maybe it has something to do with the fact that I feel I can't talk to you about the most important things in my life!"
Actually, this is only partly true. I can pinpoint the exact moment our friendship changed. July 20th, mid-morning. I was about to leave town for a month or more for work, and the night before, on a whim, I'd gone camping with some coworkers of mine and C was there. He and his on-again, off-again girlfriend of a few months were about to be off-again, the following week. Wrong or not, C and I became involved that night.
The next morning found me experiencing a barrage of strong emotions. Elation over finally starting something with the someone I was sure would be more than just another boyfriend. Guilt over the fact that he and his girl were still technically together, minus the regret because I knew I didn't have that week to wait, mixed with fear over everyone else's reactions.
As I sat in my apartment on my couch with a cup of tea feeling slightly nauseous, J awoke, strode into the living room, and asked if anything had happened with C the night before. I nodded, simultaneously trying to conceal a grin and a cringe.
J narrowed her eyes. "You're so stupid," she hissed, walking out of the room and closing the door behind her.
This may sound insignificant to you, like any number of angry things said that aren't meant, but let me digress for a minute with a little story to illustrate my point.
In Florida, I have an uncle who has two kids, a younger boy and an older girl. They are a very Italian family; strongly catholic and very close to their extended family, most of whom live nearby. His daughter, my cousin, is nineteen years old, and recently, he'd noticed that something about her seemed different; he sensed very strongly that something had happened to her, and he waited for her to tell him. Finally, one day, she called him on the phone and said, "Daddy, I need to tell you something."
In that one moment, he knew without her telling him that she was pregnant. Call it fatherly instinct, call it whatever you want, but he knew what she was going to say. His only daughter, nineteen, very catholic and very unmarried, was about to deliver some of the worst news possible to a father in a large Italian family.
He also knew, in that same instant (he told us about it later on) how crucial his first words would be to her. He thought about how costly a short, angry reaction ("you're so stupid, I'm so disappointed, this is awful") would be: that she would remember it and carry it with her for her entire life. He knew she would associate anything he said with her baby from that moment onward.
"Daddy... I'm pregnant."
He forced a smile into the phone. "That's wonderful, sweetie, I'm so excited!"
I know it sounds cliche to say that a guy came between my friendship with J, but in a way it's true. We don't connect very well anymore because I feel like I can't share with her any of the treasured details of one of the most momentous aspects of my life. Because in the end, despite the relatively peaceful six months since, I can still feel her opinion of my relationship resonating in my gut.
"You're so stupid."
