part I

Schrödinger’s Cat:

Say there is a box, and in that box is a cat and a vile of poison that can and will burst open at anytime-killing the cat. However, the box is closed and unless you open the box, the cat can be thought of as both dead and alive; since a cat cannot be both dead and alive you must open the box to find out.

Our relationship is that cat. It’s in a closed box that neither of us wants to open...just in case the cat is dead. But what other option do we have? If the cat is alive, we can’t leave it in the box to die. We have a chance to save it. And you won’t open the box. So I will.

October hit and brought with it cold, cold weather, the kind of cold that chills you down to your core and makes you long for your warm bed, and a lover to keep you warm. I thought about my winter jacket hanging in the front closet, I had left it behind with the notion that fall is just too warm for winter attire, and pulled my sweater tighter across my chest. Meeting a boy at the beach in July is one thing, meeting a boy at the beach in October is another, but this was not the day for a crowded coffee shop setting, no that would not do at all. I hugged my arms to my chest, more for security then warmth. We had met here, at the crossing of our two roads, many times but today I was not excited, I was nervous as hell.

It’s one thing to have a friend that’s shitty at getting in touch with you, another when you know you feel much more for them then just friendly and even another thing when you think they feel the same way and they are still shitty about making plans, calling you, even texting you. This lack of communication takes my already over-active insecurity through the roof. So, the last time I talked to the boy in question I didn’t get a response and then my best friend tells me about Schrodinger’s cat and that I need to open the box or bury the cat (possibly) alive. I was less then confident about reaching out to him once again. But I did, because I refuse to give into being such a pudding.

Oh god, here he comes. I could see his distinct walk as he approached the cross road. My stomach flipped, once, twice, three times. Every little doubt and insecurity took this opportunity to make themselves heard. He crossed the road and smiled in greeting, welcoming me into a hug by stretching out his arms. I released my hands from their tight wrap around my shoulders and stepped into his chest; my hands patted his sides, arms still stuck to my body like I was hugging goddamn leper, not an old friend. We made small talk but I was more focused on shutting up the negativities bouncing around in my brain. We probably talked about how cold it was-I remember noticing that he didn’t offer me his jacket which spurred another onset of insecurities-and what we had gotten up to during the week. We sat on a log and I hugged my knees to my chest, again only because I was scared but at least I could pretend it was because I was cold.

“What do you want to do?” he asked tentatively.

“I don’t know, I thought we could just chat?” I trailed off; I came here with a purpose and I wasn’t going to let these damn insecurities get in my way.

“Okay,” he smiled a little.

“...and I don’t just mean the usual, in which I talk and talk and talk, I mean like, a real, significant, conversation.”

“Okay,” he repeated. There was a long pause. It was uncomfortable for me, but I don’t think it classifies as an ‘uncomfortable pause’ seeing as I was not in a ‘comfortable’ mindset to begin with. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay...”

“Well, I do know, but, you know.”

“No. Not really.”

I stood up, looked at the spot I had just been occupying and then sat down again. “Sorry, I was uncomfortable,” I said with a laugh at my misleadingly untruthful answer. “Last week, when we hung out with everybody, you seemed, for lack of a better word: off. Remember? I asked you if you were mad at me.”

He nodded. “...and you said not to worry, you weren’t mad etc.” He nodded again. “Well I’ve noticed this, kind of “pattern” in our friendship and I want to know if I’m crazy or not.”

“Of you thinking I’m mad at you?” he said, furrowing his brow.

“No, no, no. Well, not quite. But I haven’t explained the pattern yet,” I paused, admitting truths always takes a moments confidence build up, “I just have to make sure we are as good of friends as I think we are...and that you won’t judge me if I’m totally off base.” I didn’t think I was totally off base, but I was afraid of the possibility.

He grinned at me lovingly, “I won’t judge you. I promise.”

I bumped my shoulder into his, smiling, and stared out at the grey ocean. “See, I found that when I have a possible love interest in my life-with the exception of Matt, cause you brought that one to my attention-you start acting really...strange.”

I snuck a look at him, his entire body had become kind of tense and he was no longer looking at me but staring forward and fidgeting with some rocks he had in his hands.  He said nothing and I knew that if I was right, he was deciding whether or not to be honest with me. So I continued. “At least, just from where I’m from; for example, Friday I hung out with Josh and then you and I walked away with the feeling that you were mad...during the summer when I started dating Dan? As far as I was concerned you gave me attitude towards that...and to be honest, you were never that nice to Marc...”