I finally managed to pick up the phone and dial his house number. My voice was quivering, my hands were shaking. Argh! Why did it feel as if I was professing my love?!?!? Terrible feeling, really.
Has he forgiven me? Does he still not regard me as his friend? How should I react if he answers cold, short replies?
As it was still during the World Cup frenzy, our conversation was short. But, it was comforting. I've finally managed to patch things up with him. Sometimes, it's not about who's right and who's wrong. It's not about who should make the first move. To me, it doesn't matter. Pride has little effect in my judgements. It's the friendship that I treasure most. We've been friends for close to 15 years now and I'm not about to let an argument create a hiatus. It can leave a big bruise on our friendship but certainly not cut it to an end.
It was his birthday last weekend. I called again. He sounded happy that I called, or at least I thought he sounded happy. It made me feel really good inside. No awkwardness, no cold pauses, no tokenistic remarks.
I'm glad that I made that first move. It may not have been my move to make but hey, he's my friend. A friend that I don't want to lose, a friend whom I've grown up and have become very attached to. Without him, going back to Desa would not be the same. And it doesn't matter what he thinks of me. What matters is that I care for him and I feel happy doing so.
Welcome back, friend!
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