To Know

To know. To understand. What are these things? To define. To focus. To know.
To not know. Isn’t that the majority of life? The quest of knowing what you don’t.
This is where my story starts. Falling in love, falling out of love, falling in love at the wrong time. All the while trying to find myself – by defining what I’m not.
It was Christine, preferably Chris, who became the catalyst in my life by initiating a change in me that even I couldn’t fathom. The three years that I had grown the most were the three years she was a part of my life. But it was towards the end of those three years when things went from perceived perfection to imagined compassion.
Chris and I would talk, but we would never really talk. Chris and I had a friendship, but it was not the dictionary definition of a friendship. I knew little details of her life, but only ones she told me or I managed to find out on my own. I knew she drank, I knew she had dabbled with some drugs, and I knew she was very stubborn. I never knew the severity of any of it until I came face to face with it.
I watched her from the bar stool as she cooked up orders. She flipped, diced, turned, and twisted around and flashed me a smirk.
I found myself at Steak N’ Shake more often in the past few years than in the entirety of my life’s visits to the restaurant. I’d go after my shift at work, on my days off, times between. It was the craving of just to be around her; no matter what I did I could never satisfy it.
“You want anything?” It was a slow day. I sat at the counter with my ice water, slowly bending the straw back and forth.
“No, I’m fine,” I glanced up at her, wondering at the same time what my purpose was being there. “Thanks, though.”
She pulled a stool up and sat across from me, watching over her shoulder for her manager.
“So, how’s life?” The standard question.
“It’s alright,” I nodded my head. Chris looked right at me, more coherent than ever. “How about you?”
This is the way our conversations would always go. Small, polite words would be exchanged, nothing of importance said. It drove me crazy, but I preferred small talk to no talk at all.
“Rough, man,” She sighed and shook her head. “Rough.”
I took a good look at her, her slim frame looked ragged and used. The word rough suited her at that present moment. I dared not to ask more questions; that would be breeching our silent agreement to keep things impersonal.
I left Steak N’ Shake with the same feeling every time, that of a fake friendship. I couldn’t help but feel as though we were just going through the motions, with no meaning behind the words we spoke to one another. I started to wonder what led me to Steak N’ Shake every day, afternoon, and night.
Just then, I felt my phone vibrate. As I opened my phone and read the text message, I forgot about wondering why.
“Thanks for the company today. It was delightful.”
Indeed. It was. A smile crept on my face without my permission. I knew that what I was doing to myself was unhealthy. I kept myself in this situation that was deemed faulty. All the signs were there, flashing neon lights, but I kept going and kept pushing. I figured that eventually I would come to a dead end. What I didn’t figure was the fact that I could be going in circles.
“You alright?” Chris raised her eyebrow at me. I was sitting on a stool at the bar, where I usually sat, arms crossed in front of me, not really knowing how I felt at that moment.
“Yeah,” I sighed.
“You look like you have something you want to say…” she trailed off.
“I do.”
There was a pause. I did have something to say, but I couldn’t form the right words to say it. It sounded so put together in my mind, I just didn’t trust myself to say it aloud.
“Are you doing ok?” I looked up at her with my eyes squinted, trying to push my pupils into daggers to be as direct as possible. I was being blunt, something I was not.
“What?”
“Are you doing ok?” I asked again.
“Where is this coming from?”
“I want to know if you’re doing ok.”
Simple question. Or at least I thought so.
“I’m doing ok as ok can get.”
“Really?”
“What’s up with the interrogation?”
“You don’t seem ok to me,” I said it. I had been thinking it for the past two months, and I finally said it.
“What makes you think that?” Suddenly the conversation turned from friendly to defensive.
“I don’t know, Chris. You just look like you’ve been going through something.”
“Well I have, but I don’t really want to talk about it. Ok?” She turned around, her back facing me, busying herself with flipping burgers and putting up orders.
I sat back and said nothing. After a big sigh, I reached into my purse for a pen and grabbed a napkin from the napkin dispenser in front of me. I scribbled some words onto the napkin, turned it upside down and pushed it towards the end of the counter. I then got up and left.
The napkin read: “When you are ready to talk, I am ready to listen.”
I made an effort to distance myself from her. I stopped visiting her. I stopped all forms of communication with her in hopes that she would be willing to talk to me on her own terms.
I had to resist the temptation to go to Steak N’ Shake on my way home from work. I had to resist the temptation to pick up my phone and call her. And it was hard. But I kept telling myself that it was what I had to do. Something was wrong, and until she admitted it I wasn’t going to keep on pretending that I didn’t notice.
A few weeks later I was with my friend Carly when she asked me if I knew how Chris was doing.
“I don’t know, I haven’t talked to her in a while,” I answered honestly. Carly just stared at me.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I haven’t talked to her in a while…”
“Wait, what?”
“Oh my god, Carly, it’s not that big of a deal,” I rolled my eyes. Carly continued to stare at me with a look of disbelief.
“I would’ve never thought…”
“Thought what?”
“That you and Chris wouldn’t be talking anymore. It’s just…”
“Shit happens.”
“Yeah, but…”
“Carly can we just drop it, now? Please?”
I knew Carly would react that way. Everyone knew that Chris and I were friends, but Carly knew that the friendship had grown into something more. I could no longer deny that I was falling in love with Chris, and it scared me.
“Yeah, we can drop it. But can I tell you something?”
I gave Carly a threatening look, as if to say if it had anything to do with Chris I didn’t want to hear it.
“I heard that she checked herself into rehab. I’m not sure if it’s true, but I thought you would know for sure. But apparently I was wrong.”
We sat in silence for a while as I tried to soak in the new information presented to me. A million questions were running through my mind. Rehab? But why? When? For what? But most importantly, how could I not know that she was going through something so serious that she needed to check herself into rehab?
“I’m sorry,” Carly put her hand on my knee.
I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. I was angry, sad, and shocked all at the same time.
“I didn’t know,” was all I could say.
“I’m sorry,” Carly said again. “Maybe you should talk to her? Call her or something? Just to let her know that you care, I’m sure that’s what she needs right now.”
I knew Carly was right, but a part of me felt like an impatient five year old with my arms crossed, waiting for Chris to make the first move.
I decided to sit down and write her an email. That way I could say everything I wanted to say and take my time about it. Once I finished the email and read it over a couple times, I was ready to send it. A knot formed in the pit of my stomach as I moved the mouse over the send button. I closed my eyes and clicked.
Chris,
I know we haven’t talked in a while, but I just wanted to make sure you are doing ok. I recently found out that you had checked yourself into rehab. I know this must be hard on you, but I just wanted to let you know that I am here for you. I do care about you and I want you to feel like you can talk to me. I just want to know how you’re doing.
If you would like to, maybe we could meet up and talk? Let me know when would be a good time.
I checked my email compulsively for the next few days. Nothing. At first I wondered if I sent it to the right email address, or if it went through, or if she had even read it yet. Finally, a week later, I got a reply. I saw the message in my inbox and the same knot formed in my stomach. I wanted to read it, but at the same time I didn’t want to. I sat there, in front of my computer, looking at the replied message sitting in my inbox. I took a deep breath and clicked on it.
Barnes and Noble, 9:00pm Thursday.
Thursday. That was the next day. I read the message over and over, just to make sure there wasn’t anything else that I missed. There wasn’t. It was a plain and simple, to the point message. The date began to sink into my brain, and I started to look forward to it. Finally I was going to be able to spend some time with her, face to face and alone. Maybe I would even work up the courage to tell her how I felt about her, and start being honest with myself about the feelings I had deep inside.
The next day was the longest day of my life. My eight hour shift at work seemed like it would never end, and every time I looked at the clock only ten minutes had passed since the previous time I checked. I clocked out at eight and went straight to Barnes and Noble. I knew I was going to hear some things I didn’t want to hear from her, but I was looking forward to an honest conversation so much that it overrode my fear. I walked around the store for a while to calm myself.
My phone rang at five till nine. The familiar knot in my stomach grew when I saw it was Chris. I answered.
“Hello?” I cleared my throat.
“Now, I’m standing by your car, or what I assume to be your car, and you’re not in it. So, where are you?”
“I’m inside,” my voice shifted a little.
Chris laughed. It gave me goose bumps. “Ok, I’ll be right in.”
I moved towards the front of the store, trying to look busy as I browsed the table of gift items for under twenty dollars, none of which caught my interest. I was trying to hide how nervous I was, but I knew Chris would be able to see right through me.
“See anything you like?” She approached the table from the opposite end I was browsing.
I smiled, dumbly. “No, not really.”
“There’s some tables outside, you want to go?”
“Sure.” I followed her outside to a set of cement tables. We sat down and waited for someone to say the first word.
“Well this is awkward,” Chris said.
“And I know how much you hate awkward situations,” I smiled and tried to laugh, but all that came out was a nervous ‘he he’.
“Yeah, I’m not much of a fan…”
I waited a few seconds and cleared my throat. “So how’ve you been?”
“I’ve been better,” she sighed. “I really don’t know how to go about telling you all of this…”
“It’s ok, take your time,” I scooted forward and leaned toward her. “I’m here to listen, not to criticize or judge you.” She nodded.
“I just really don’t know where to start…”
“When did you check yourself into rehab?” I asked quietly.
“About a month ago.”
“How’s it going?”
“It’s horrible. But I keep telling myself I don’t want to go back to who I was, and that’s what’s keeping me there. I go to group sessions everyday in the afternoon and I see a therapist twice a week.”
Silence. But it wasn’t the same silence that would form during our conversations at Steak N’ Shake. This was more of a comfortable long pause.
“I had no idea,” I looked up at her. “I mean I knew you used drugs, but I didn’t know it was this bad.”
“No one knew. The longer I used, the better I became at hiding it,” She shook her head. “Don’t feel bad though, I didn’t want anyone to know.”
“How long?”
“Well…” she fumbled through her bag and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Do you mind if I smoke?”
I shrugged my shoulders. I did mind, but I didn’t say anything. She lit the cigarette and inhaled before she continued talking. I eyed her as she placed the lighter down on the table.
“Smoking helps me cope, it calms me down. Coffee helps, too,” She said as if to answer my question I conveyed with my prying eyes. She took a deep breath and began talking.
“I was a stoner first, but then I got tired of that shit, I wasn’t in the mood to do anything. Then I was a pill head, and then I started using coke, and I’ve been using everyday for the past nine months.”
My draw dropped immediately.
“I didn’t know…”
“Yeah well, now you do.”
“So you’re in rehab for…?”
“Cocaine addiction.”
I sat in silence, shocked. I said the only thing that came to my mind. “I’m proud of you.”
“For what?”
“For doing this by yourself. All by yourself. And for realizing that you needed help.”
“I just knew I needed to get shit together. My life was going downhill really fast, and I knew the only way to make it better was to stop.”
“I care about you, you know?” I reached out and put my hand on hers. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you.”
“I know, and I appreciate it.”
I reached down to look at my phone. We had been sitting outside for over an hour, and Barnes and Noble was closing down for the night.
“Should we go?” I asked.
“What time is it?”
“It’s after ten.”
“Yeah, we probably should.”
We got up from the table and walked around the building to the parking lot. We stopped when we got to the parking lot to go our separate ways. It was the perfect opportunity, I thought, to tell her. To finally tell her.
“There is something I want to tell you,” I said, trying to carefully choose the words in my head before saying them.
“It’s ok, I already know,” Chris laughed. “I’ve known for quite some time now, actually.”
I could feel my face get hot and I immediately jerked my head in the other direction.
“What?”
“I know that you like me, although I really don’t know why…” She trailed off. “But I do want you to know that I can’t be in a relationship with you, not right now.”
“Oh,” I said, my eyes still looking at the ground.
“I’m just going through a lot, working on myself and all that. I’m a wreck right now, I can’t handle being in a relationship at the same time. I hope you understand that.”
“Yeah, yeah I understand.” I nodded. “But I just feel as though I could help you through it…”
“You can do that by being a friend. You don’t have to be my girlfriend in order to do that.”
“I know,” My eyes batted back and forth, my eyebrows furrowed as I tried to think of what to say next.
“I just feel like we’ve been so close…” I could feel the tears starting to well up and it became harder to swallow. “We’ve been so close to...” a tear slipped down my cheek and I quickly wiped it away. “I really want to…” a few more tears followed.
“I know, and I’m sorry. But I just can’t do that right now. I didn’t want to when I was on drugs either, because I didn’t think it was fair to you.”
“Fair? What’s fair? I don’t feel as though this is fair.” Suddenly I became angry.
“I just really can’t do this right now, I’m sorry, I don’t know what else to say.”
We stood for a while and no words were spoken. The longer I stood there and thought it through, the angrier I became. I felt as though I deserved a chance, a chance to prove her wrong.
“I waited for so long, because this is what I wanted,” I cleared my throat to keep the tears back. “I know you, Chris, and I think you’d be surprised…”
“You think you know me?”
My throat closed, my world shrank in front of my eyes. I didn’t know what to say.
“You don’t know me at all.”
She threw me a dirty look over her shoulder and turned to walk away. I couldn’t think of anything to say. I stood on the sidewalk outside of Barnes and Noble, on which I hoped to be an uplifting night, a night that had suddenly gone awry. I stood there and I watched her walk to her car, fumble for her keys and slam the door behind her. Not once did she look back.
She was right. I had hoped that over three years I could say that I “knew” her. But in essence I only knew what she wanted me to know.
For three years she had been a mystery. Three years I had pretended to know her, pretended to understand her. However, for three years she put up a wall to prevent anyone from truly knowing her. Because that’s what she wanted. She opened up her vulnerability to a few people she deemed worthy, but I was never one sought after.
At that moment, standing outside of Barnes and Noble, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know her. After watching her drive away I made my way to my own car around the corner. I sat in my car, my fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, watching my breath in the cold air. I felt as numb emotionally as I was physically.
I imagined her knuckles rapping against my window, her tearstained cheeks spelling out “I’m sorry”. I’d forgive her, because that’s what I do. And we’d go back to her not telling me anything and me fooling myself.
Eventually I turned over the engine and drove out of the parking lot.
I thought about “knowing” someone. What that meant, to know someone, and whether or not I knew anyone.
What I wanted most was to be able to say to her that she was wrong, that I did know her. What I wanted most was to be able to rattle off to her the workings of her brain, that I knew more than she gave me credit for, that she was wrong.
But she was right. Oh, she was right.
I did not have the answers to anything.
And I most certainly did not know her at all.