Now, without further ado, ...
I thought I was ready. I thought that it would be ok. I’d walk in, see her and things would be normal, not quite the way they used to be but still normal. One could always hope, right?
But I wasn’t ready for this. For the hatred that emanated from her. The sneer that marred her once beautiful face. It’s not my fault that I walked away from that accident with hardly any injury. It’s not my fault that I’ve been able to move on with life and have a child while she’s been given news that she will never have children of her own! I wasn’t the one driving!! Holding my little baby, I can understand how heartbroken she must be that she won’t ever be able to hold one of her own. But why does she have to hate me for something I have no control over?
I wasn’t looking forward to this gathering. It’s been a year and a half since the accident, since I saw her last as they lifted her broken body from behind that steering wheel. The truck that hit us – it came out of nowhere, blew through a light and rammed into her door. We weren’t ready for that (who ever is?). She wasn’t ready for her life to change so dramatically.
It’s been that long since we saw each other and I’ve tried to see her earlier but she’d have nothing to do with me. Now she has no choice, we have no choice. It’s our best friend’s wedding. Can’t she put on a happy face for our friend?
I wasn’t ready to see her reaction to me. I wasn’t ready to feel her anger so strongly. Is it guilt that’s making me feel this apprehension? Guilt that I was barely hurt, that my life continued along a path I’d hoped for, almost planned for, while her’s came to a crashing halt? Maybe.
And could it be that her hurt, her anger, her apparent hatred towards me is simply because she wasn’t yet ready to see me?