Reunions Are Often Misleading
She had been his best friend for years; perhaps that was why he assumed she'd call him to invite him to her wedding. Maybe that was why he'd expected her to even tell him she was married. He could even assume that their friendship is why she didn't tell him. She was his best friend who was also a liar, who kept secrets but
only
secrets that she thought he wouldn't care about. This might be one of those instances. Of course, he did care. There came a time when she started to want more from him.
So he wasn't surprised when she left town after his engagement. In his defense, it was a surprise at the time of her moving...Just not after.
He only found out after. The discovery that she still had feelings even years after he'd rejected her the second time came as a shock. Molly, his fiancee, had said that Briar had been lying to him out of respect for their relationship.
"Briar is incapable of holding anything back, Molly. Trust me." He'd said, totally unaware. Molly rolled her eyes at him then, saying, "Well she told me herself." She paused to take a breath and peer at a newly puzzled Bastian. She took a deep breath before moving on. "She said she loved you but loved women more. Then she promised me she'd never act. She hasn't." Molly smiled despite this. She knew about the marriage and the man before the newspaper announcement of his passing. She sent a prayer toward her unlikely friend, wishing it to embrace her.
For Bastian, the stoic calm on Molly's face was proof enough. In his hands, he held the paper announcing his friend's husband's death. In this moment, he gazed at Molly, who knew him (most times) better than himself. All she said was, "Go."
He went.
That was how he'd ended up here, standing in front of a house he'd never seen, in a state he'd never been to, and staring at a face he knew about as well as he knew his own.
She was working, tending to the plants and windows. She had that familiar wildness about her, all hair and fire. She wore her bibs crooked and her feet bare, the only things Bastian didn't recognize were the ring on her finger and a new tattoo. He couldn't decide which of these new additions made him feel more left out. She also seemed more wistful than she had in the past as he'd known her.
She still hadn't seen him.
"Briar," he yelled walking toward her. She looked away from the plant she was watering, startled.
"Bastian!" He could tell then, it was obvious to him. She pink in her cheeks, the way her voice jumped up and octave. He didn't care about that, he was angry.
"Why didn't you tell me you got married?!" She blanched at his words as he stopped walking. He shook his head and kicked the ground beneath him, sending gravel flying. "How come you didn't even tell me he died?" He didn't want to approach this situation angrily, he'd wanted to approach it with intentions of letting it go and comforting her. That was all down the drain when he saw her, so here we were.
Briar's initial shock wore off as she rubbed her temples. Why did everyone do this? Can't they mind their own business? Trying to spare judgement, she sat on her porch steps and took her hat off. The cedar was still damp from the rain last night, but she didn't mind. She sent a message off into the universe as she sat and listened. Bastian was rambling, something he didn't do very often. He was going on about how he thought they were friends and he didn't even get invited.
"He was already dying when I met him, Bas." Briar said, exasperated. "If you don't mind, you are the fiftieth person to ask me that, I'd appreciate it if you'd just shut the hell up."
