You Once Thought Of Me

In middle and high school I knew a boy. Well okay, I knew a bunch of boys but this boy was different. It wasn't that I had a crush on him because I honestly didn't. Don't get me wrong, I loved this boy very much, but never in "that" way. I even called him my little brother just to get the point across to the rest of the world that I did not want to date him and that he was absolutely not dating me. However, these were pre-worldy-teens-on-the-WB days and for some reason the rest of the population just did not get that a boy and a girl could be really close and not date. He and I would laugh because everybody else was so convinced we were going to end up together. His mother practically had us married off, and I think that had we decided to make our friendship weird my Mom would not have really objected either. We talked about it a few times, how everybody else was so blind to the fact that we were obviously just friends and only saw each other as such. We agreed that we would rather keep our friendship than cross that line and possibly risk losing it, and we never regretted the decision (at least I didn't). Unfortunately because of life just getting in the way and our extreme fascination with The World Outside of High School, we drifted apart after he graduated (he was a year behind me). We saw each other a couple of times that summer and once a year later, completely by coincidence, but we were both champion procrastinators and while I don't know if he ever wrote me (we did talk on the phone a few times), I know that the few letters I got around to writing him never made it to the mailbox, and now six years have gone by without a single word being passed between us. When I think of that boy, I remember kind eyes, a sweet smile and almost unending patience. I remember sitting on the floor back to back when the hall benches were full. I remember that at every school dance we had our one dance, and tried to make sure it was always to a different song so that people wouldn't think we had "our song." I remember when I was relapsing from pneumonia he made a little bed out of chairs and coats and made me lay down on it and use his lap as a pillow. I remember that every single time my Mom drove him home he would tell us a long long story about his family and then just as he was getting out of the car he'd go "only kidding, that was totally a lie" and laugh as I'd smack his shoulders because no matter what he'd get me to fall for them. I remember tilting the front seat of the car back until his head was nearly in my lap and then his blowing spit bubbles up into my face. I remember a boy who would somehow manage to jump out from behind a different corner every morning just to scare me and say hello before going to class. I remember a boy who desperately wanted to be cool, and didn't know how to accomplish it. I remember a boy who was more popular than he ever knew, and who was constantly searching. He was always looking for something, something bigger than he was. I hope that he finds it. I miss him. Every once in a while I feel this intense urge to find him (especially right after Abbott died), if for no other reason than to know he is still breathing. I wonder about him and worry about him. I know that our paths cross again, and when they do I'll tell him "I told you you'd be stuck with me forever" and to hear him reply "No, You're stuck with Me, remember?"