First Love

by Arty

What you have to understand about them is that they were only ever "just good friends". She seemed to be happy with that and for a while so was he. Years later he discovered that the whole school assumed that they were lovers. She must have known; being a teenage boy he was oblivious. Looking back he could see that the rumours were painful to her, or at least the fact that he didn't acknowledge them was.

He didn't remember exactly when they first met; it was as if the glare of the event blinded him to the detail. Now it seemed to him that the fulcrum of their first meeting balanced his schooldays. He was aware there was a time when he didn't know her but most of it was a blur. Then sometime in his 14th year he met her and his life changed forever.

Her beauty was secondary to her personality. Everyone who met her liked her; talking to her left you glad that you were alive. He couldn't get enough of that feeling, they would talk for hours about anything and everything; the subjects didn't matter all he ever wanted to do was to make her laugh.

Each time she smiled at him his heart stopped; he couldn't breathe; nothing else mattered. When she laughed, especially at his behest, a supernova exploding nearby couldn't have had more effect on him. Time apart from her had no meaning. The currency of his existence was measured in the time spent in her company. For years he hoarded the gold of the minutes spent with her.

He couldn't say anything of this, uncertain of her feelings toward him, he was paralysed by the fear of losing her friendship. Food, water and air, these were optional as far as he was concerned but her friendship was the thing that gave his life meaning and colour. So he held his feelings inside and resolutely proclaimed that they were "just good friends".

Outside of school he engineered opportunities to be with her. Learning that her family sometimes swam at a local swimming pool on Sunday mornings, he cycled 12 miles to the swimming pool every Sunday morning being first in the pool most Sundays and staying until it was clear that she wasn't swimming that Sunday. On those Sunday's that her family did swim, not only did he have some stolen moments with her but he also saw her in a swimsuit; joy and lust in equal measure.

They exchanged postcards when on holiday. He gave her compilations of their favourite music. The track lists were enciphered declarations of his love for her. He wrote her letters of friendship and their 'phone calls were legendary in their length. And still he said nothing - the risk was too great and became greater as he banked his investment of the time in her company.

But with each passing month the fiction of "just good friends" became the truth of their relationship and she met someone else. A dagger through the heart would have hurt less, but at least as friends he could still be near her.

Now he was trapped in his lie. And to bolster it, he hurt someone who did not deserve it. He toyed with a girlfriend's affection and subsumed his longing for his first love by forcing the pace of their relationship. His girlfriend was shaken by the intensity he demanded and needed to drown out his unspoken desire. At his girlfriend's request they separated for the long summer holiday to "give them some space". Later in the course of a telephone conversation, and to his shame, he hurt his girlfriend terribly but was helpless to prevent himself from doing so.

Then there was the school trip. One day in November a group from the school made their way to London to view an exhibition at the Royal Academy and to spend some time afterwards in London. She declared that they must see London Zoo. Not knowing exactly where it was, meant that they never did find it. By then it was getting late so they asked a policeman the way to the railway station and they began to make their way there.

At some point they held hands. In four years of friendship this was the first time that they had touched. The simple act of holding hands with her defined him. His left hand had no other purpose now but to hold her hand and the rest of his body was there to keep it alive so that he could continue doing so.

Holding hands they arrived at the station. Holding hands they boarded the train. Holding hands they sat together and dozed their way back home. Holding hands they left the station and met his parents. Holding hands they waited for her father to arrive to collect her. Her father was late. He held her in his arms and his heart exploded. Joy was far too small a word. Eventually he convinced her to let them take her home. Holding hands they were driven to her house. Paradise was within his grasp. He was complete. A void he didn't know existed was filled.

They arrived at her house and disaster! The reason for her father's delay was that her boyfriend had come home from university unexpectedly and had asked her father to wait so that he could go with him to collect her and surprise her.

They stopped holding hands; suddenly he was bereft of purpose. Taking the blame he apologised to her father for scaring him and he left, the memory of her hand and arms still fresh on his body and in his mind.

The next day he cycled to her house determined to lay bare his feelings for her. The memory of holding her gave him the courage that he lacked and could not have gained from elsewhere. Her father answered the door and his face held a look that he couldn't place as he led him into their kitchen; later he would realise that it was pity. Her father told him that her boyfriend was there too. She came into the kitchen and for a long moment they just looked at each other. And then he knew that he was too late.

He left unsaid the years of yearning and before leaving he asked for a kiss "for friendship's sake". A wish she granted and for the first and last time they kissed, a kiss that could hold no promise of things to come. As they parted on her doorstep and in his despair, he tried to kiss her again but she denied him, and his heart broke.

And now the void is still there, a familiar friend after all this time and for twenty-five years his left hand has had no meaning.

-Fin-