On the plane today, to Hilton Head, I was sitting next to this cute 7th grade teacher. She was reading Homeless Bird, a story about Koly an Indian girl who is forced into an arranged marriage as a child. Conversation on the subject and my input as an Indian occupied us for the large part of the flight time.
I was just finishing Memories of My Melancholy Whores by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. How is it, Tessa asked. It's complex. It's about this guy who's slept with 514 women between the ages of 19 and 90, but never felt an intimate emotional connection with any of them. At 90, when his capacity to conduct intercourse has diminished, he finds himself in love, emotionally attached to a 14 year old.
And the funny thing is, that all he does is observe her while she sleeps naked. And sometimes he sleeps next to her. They've never talked, but somehow they've become friends. Their gestures towards one another do the speaking.
That's creepy. And WEIRD! Tessa said with an emphasis. Can I glance through it? I didn't mind. After 10-15 minutes, she quipped. It's different. I think it's a different kind of friendship. Like when you see someone everyday taking the same train, you exchange glances, smile, but never talk. They put you at ease. And then one day, when you didn't see them on the same train, you feel a bit of a loss. A part of your world, that train ride, has changed. And it bothers you. Tessa was from Montreal, and on her way to some exotic destination in Central America.
Quickly the conversation turned to friendship. Who is a friend? What it means to be a friend to someone? Is there a quality associated with friendship? What makes someone a good friend? Should one have many friends or a few very good friends?
Tessa navigated such emotional terrain with great ease. A friend is anyone who puts you at ease and makes you feel good about yourself; by giving you their time, attention or caring for you. To be someone's friend is doing the same thing in return. Friendship has a definite quality associated with it, she continued, the more one friend opens up to another, the better friends they become. A good friend is someone you trust, someone who looks out for you and isn't afraid to speak the truth that helps you become a better person. And on the question of the number of friends, Tessa said, it really depends. I used to have many, many people I would call friends, but as I started working and became busy with my life, I found myself very alone. I think you only have a few people in life you can count on, so yes few good friends is probably the way to go.
I smiled. I agreed with her on many things. Don't you feel hurt if you open up to someone and they don't feel the need to include you in their life? Definitely that's something to think about. Giving the other person sometime to open up is one way to look at it. And if you've waited for a while and that hasn't happened, sometimes its just better to let go.
It took me a few minutes to digest that. Are you having some friend trouble Sergio? (She couldn't pronounce my name right, and after a while, I just gave up.)
I am. I mean, I was. I just try not to think about it anymore. He got married, and things went downhill from there. I loved him like a brother, but we rarely talk now. It does feel like a part of my world has changed. I was visibly upset.
Tessa pulled tucked some tresses of her brilliant red hair behind her ear. She put her hand on my shoulder. It'll turn out fine. I wouldn't think about it too much. Such encouragement from a complete stranger was welcome, and very touching. What I was going to do next was shameful.
I turned my head, looked into her coral eyes. Took a deep breath. Don't worry, it happens, she said. I sprouted a grin on my face. Got you! Why do girls always fall for a sentimental masquerade?
You made that up? Most of it, I said. You're such an asshole, she uttered. Her face conveyed no connotations of malice. I'm sorry Tessa. I didnt mean to tease you, but somehow I felt you'd fall for it. I had to try it. I was just kidding.
The plane landed shortly afterwards. As we got off the plane, we exchanged usual parting pleasantries. And then, just like that, Tessa said Sergio, it was a good time. And btw, that friend wasn't imaginary. She winked, turned around and walked away to her flight.
She was right. He wasn't. But how did she know?
I was just finishing Memories of My Melancholy Whores by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. How is it, Tessa asked. It's complex. It's about this guy who's slept with 514 women between the ages of 19 and 90, but never felt an intimate emotional connection with any of them. At 90, when his capacity to conduct intercourse has diminished, he finds himself in love, emotionally attached to a 14 year old.
And the funny thing is, that all he does is observe her while she sleeps naked. And sometimes he sleeps next to her. They've never talked, but somehow they've become friends. Their gestures towards one another do the speaking.
That's creepy. And WEIRD! Tessa said with an emphasis. Can I glance through it? I didn't mind. After 10-15 minutes, she quipped. It's different. I think it's a different kind of friendship. Like when you see someone everyday taking the same train, you exchange glances, smile, but never talk. They put you at ease. And then one day, when you didn't see them on the same train, you feel a bit of a loss. A part of your world, that train ride, has changed. And it bothers you. Tessa was from Montreal, and on her way to some exotic destination in Central America.
Quickly the conversation turned to friendship. Who is a friend? What it means to be a friend to someone? Is there a quality associated with friendship? What makes someone a good friend? Should one have many friends or a few very good friends?
Tessa navigated such emotional terrain with great ease. A friend is anyone who puts you at ease and makes you feel good about yourself; by giving you their time, attention or caring for you. To be someone's friend is doing the same thing in return. Friendship has a definite quality associated with it, she continued, the more one friend opens up to another, the better friends they become. A good friend is someone you trust, someone who looks out for you and isn't afraid to speak the truth that helps you become a better person. And on the question of the number of friends, Tessa said, it really depends. I used to have many, many people I would call friends, but as I started working and became busy with my life, I found myself very alone. I think you only have a few people in life you can count on, so yes few good friends is probably the way to go.
I smiled. I agreed with her on many things. Don't you feel hurt if you open up to someone and they don't feel the need to include you in their life? Definitely that's something to think about. Giving the other person sometime to open up is one way to look at it. And if you've waited for a while and that hasn't happened, sometimes its just better to let go.
It took me a few minutes to digest that. Are you having some friend trouble Sergio? (She couldn't pronounce my name right, and after a while, I just gave up.)
I am. I mean, I was. I just try not to think about it anymore. He got married, and things went downhill from there. I loved him like a brother, but we rarely talk now. It does feel like a part of my world has changed. I was visibly upset.
Tessa pulled tucked some tresses of her brilliant red hair behind her ear. She put her hand on my shoulder. It'll turn out fine. I wouldn't think about it too much. Such encouragement from a complete stranger was welcome, and very touching. What I was going to do next was shameful.
I turned my head, looked into her coral eyes. Took a deep breath. Don't worry, it happens, she said. I sprouted a grin on my face. Got you! Why do girls always fall for a sentimental masquerade?
You made that up? Most of it, I said. You're such an asshole, she uttered. Her face conveyed no connotations of malice. I'm sorry Tessa. I didnt mean to tease you, but somehow I felt you'd fall for it. I had to try it. I was just kidding.
The plane landed shortly afterwards. As we got off the plane, we exchanged usual parting pleasantries. And then, just like that, Tessa said Sergio, it was a good time. And btw, that friend wasn't imaginary. She winked, turned around and walked away to her flight.
She was right. He wasn't. But how did she know?
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