If It Didn't Suck....

Scare had told me that she hadn't heard from Dora for some time, nor had she heard from her brother Eric. Though a friend had told her that she had seen someone who she had thought was Dora, but was almost unrecognizable.

I must admit even though nothing had ever happened between us I still had felt something for her, and had hoped she was all right. It was at times like this I would wonder about us, if we would have made it, if she would be plagued with the same problems, if I would, in fact have been a contributory factor in all of it. It would have been nice to have seen her again.

Her number had long since been disconnected and she had moved from the small and squalid apartment I had seen her in many years before. It had now been almost ten years since I had seen her and several months since I had spoken with Scary Ann about her when one day I had parked on the corner and had to walk about fifty feet to the house- (yes, I do walk places as you can see)- and I had seen someone how looked like Dora.

Now let me explain, while she did resemble Dora, it was only the most ephemeral vestige of what she had once been. Her skin was a sickly pallor and her eyes seemed to have sunken in, and her teeth had gotten extremely bad. She recognized me, (not a hard feat since I pretty much look the same since I was in elementary school with the addition of a goatee) and I her and we hugged and when we did, I felt the hard bones of her body that should be resting under flesh, and muscle but she was sickly and painfully thing and looked really bad. She had been addicted to hard drugs for many years now and the toll on her body was devastating. I suppose if I were a friend I would have told her to get help or something, but I thought she had heard it all before and well wanted to let her know, in my way that I wasn't judging her.

So I didn't try to help by telling her the evils of drugs and how she needs to get help, I offered to take her to get something to eat or get some coffee and talk about old times. (I am not implying by this that she was homeless. She wasn't. She lived with her mother and older sister. I guess they were blind to her self destruction, or tried and failed to help, one can never know for sure)

She politely declined and instead we stood there on the street corner and caught up. Well I leaned up against a brick abutment of a building and talked for nearly an hour. And when we spoke nothing was said of her state or mine, or anything news of a sad nature. Just two friends reminiscing. It was nice, and awkward at the same time. Not as awkward as I felt when she had asked me if I were seeing anyone.

At that moment I looked at her and remembered the old Dora, the one I knew so well a lifetime ago and wondered what would have happened to us if she had given me a chance. Would we be a couple today, would I have helped her, would she of me, or would I, once in her live, have made matters worse.

I projected and for a brief moment fantasized about what our lives would have been like if she had chosen me. The nice guy. I was abruptly awakened from my revere by her calling my name.

"What?" I asked.
"Are you seeing anyone?," she asked.
I looked at her and for the most briefest moment there was an ephemeral vestige of the old Dora, hidden somewhere between the ravaged facade.
"No," I said.

She stepped closer and put her fingers to my face and said, "I hope you find someone that deserves you."

At that moment I loved her, hated her, wanted to shake her and ask her why she had abused herself for so long, why she didn't want me so way back when and then, and then I was all right. It was though there were some closure to something that never was. I wanted to help her, hold her, go back nearly 18 years and change things, but I knew I couldn't. I know now that she was probably telling the truth back then. She probably felt that we would not have worked out for whatever reason.

We hugged and kissed a goodbye on the cheek, and held, lingering in our embrace for a few moments and said our goodbyes. As I watched her walk away, I had touched my face where she had touched me and imagined her fingers still there. And her words ringing in my ears. Someone that deserves me? Perhaps she had just walked away, out of my life now, forever.