Dear Ruby

To my primary school best friend, who I promise I never forgot.

Dear Ruby,

It's been years since I've seen you
and you'd be an adult by now
like me.

I still remember you well, maybe too well.
We were only friends in primary school
and now I'm preparing for university.
But your postcard and paper vending machine are still in my closet.
They sit on my jewelry box,
one on top of the other.

A lot has happened since you last saw me.
I came out as a lesbian,
passed my first exams,
got diagnosed with autism,
celebrated my 18th birthday,
started going to therapy
and more.
I wonder what you've done since I last saw you.
I hope you didn't forget me.

Sometimes, I hate how much I still know about you
and the fact you're the only friend who's never hurt me,
the only one who never abandoned me or drifted away deliberately.
The only one I never cried over.
But at the same time, I'm grateful you were that friend.
You were nice to me.
You let me choose the same game over and over.
You didn't mind my differences.
You didn't care about my bad behaviours, which I now know were just me being autistic.
You were always so kind.
And you gave me so many good memories.

I don't often remember people very well, but I remember so much about you.
I remember your black hair,
your bright eyes,
your smile.
I still look out the car window to see your old front door on the way into town,
bright blue at the end of the row,
next to the hospital.
I can still remember going inside after you rushed to get the door,
slipping on the wooden floors with my socks and sitting on the living room carpet to pour out your lego friends.
You had a huge collection of them, along with your shopkins,
and you had a treehouse - I was so jealous.
Your mum was nice and she always made fishfingers for tea when I was over.
Your room was long, with a big window and thin curtains and educational posters all over the walls.
I would sleep over a lot and you would have to clear the floor so I had somewhere to lie down.
You could hear the cars going by all night but it didn't matter
because we stayed up past bedtime to eat sweets we weren't really meant to have while we talked
and I'd be too tired not to sleep after.
In the morning, we'd play some more
and try to stall my mum by staying quiet so she'd keep chatting
because we didn't want to end the playdate.

You came round to my house a little less;
I thought yours was so cool that I always wanted to go there instead.
But you were always at my birthday parties.
No-one else ever really did what I wanted at those parties,
they just ignored me and my parents would have to watch them over me
and it made me cry every time
but I still remember you sitting with me,
watching a movie as everyone else was outside while I wiped tears off my face.
Then you would always be the only one I invited to sleep over
and we'd build forts in the playroom and finish off the junk food by ourselves before sleeping.
You always invited me to your parties too
and I was the best friend who got to sleep over in the same way.
It made me so happy to be specially loved like that.

And I still keep what you gave me as special.
I still read your postcard from time to time.
I never kept sweets in the vending machine because I was afraid to ruin it
but I still like to see how you decorated it.
Your cat is still living on my copy of Tomodachi Life.
I can still know the name of our shared game,
Super Magic Ninja Kittens,
which was best played in the little Year 4 garden,
and I've never played it without you.
I think about you periodically and wish that I could have one more playdate.

I've always been a bit lonely since we went to different schools after primary.
I was bullied so badly at middle school that I had to leave.
And when I do manage to make friends, they always seem to end up abandoning me.
I have a hard time connecting with my parents
and being told I was autistic gave me an explanation but it didn't fix anything.
I've never had another friend who gave me that unconditional kind of love you did
or who was so nice and sweet as you.

I've always wanted to see you again.
Maybe one day I will.
Maybe you'll have changed
or maybe I'm remembering you wrong
or maybe you were never as nice as I thought you were.
Or maybe I'll never see you, even though I know so much about you.
Either way, you made me happy
and you're the only person I don't have a single bad memory of.
Thank you for that.
You'll always be in my heart.
Good luck
and, if you do ever see this and think it's familiar,
send me a message.
I know enough to confirm details
and I'd love to talk.

With love, A.N.