I ran into an old friend today. It’s weird that I think of her as an old friend, when I only met and befriended her last spring. I guess not talking for an entire summer and only seeing each other on occasions where the only thing to do was nod and continue walking will make a friendship seem more weathered than it actually is.
She was on the same train as I was on the way to school, believe it or not. She was with a friend who was cute, but she didn’t introduce me, and I was not nearly forthright enough to introduce myself. We shot the shit on the way to class, and it was just like old times. It made me wonder why, after our class ended, we simply lost contact. But that happens pretty much every semester with me. I’ll become roughly best friends with someone in class, and we’ll hang out and shit all the time, before class, after class, whenever. And then the semester ends, and I rarely see them. And, for some reason, we rarely exchange e-mail addresses or AIM info, even during the course of the semester. And we never call after the semester ends. Occasionally I’ll see people, and we may talk for a minute or two, but it’s nothing.
Of course, it’s not like I’m trying really hard to stay in touch. As close as we become during a semester, I still generally think of these people as casual acquaintances who I see in class and never again. That’s a mental block that I just can’t get past. I’m not sure why.
On an unrelated topic, Lucy has started calling my father’s cell phone looking for me. I called her from his phone once, and apparently she put it in her address book, even though I specifically told her at the time that it was my dad’s phone and this would be a one-time thing. I guess she tried calling my old cell phone and found it disconnected. She doesn’t have the new number, and even though we’re on speaking terms again, I’d still prefer it if she just thinks I don’t have a cell phone anymore. I don’t want her calling it all the time like she used to. Even when I liked her, it annoyed the piss out of me.
Of course, now she’s doing that to my dad, and that puts me in some hot water because (1) they don’t know we’ve resumed speaking to each other and (2) she shouldn’t know my dad’s cell phone number. That was an accidental thing, and I hope she just stops calling that number. I’d rather have her calling me at home than on a phone that spends most of its time in my dad’s pocket.
I screwed that up. Hopefully my parents won’t put two and two together if they decide to interrogate me on how Lucy got the phone number. I borrowed my dad’s cell phone a total of once in my life—when I went to Iowa City to see Juliana. My dad let me use his phone because it had free long-distance, and he had one of those cigarette lighter adapters so the battery wouldn’t wear down. Unbeknownst to my parents, I was also planning to meet Lucy down there.
We had dinner and went to the concert together, but as far as my parents know, I spent the entire evening by myself. I had to call her from the road—from my dad’s cell phone, because I didn’t want her having my number, though in retrospect that seems like a stupid decision—so she wouldn’t do something horrible like call my house and leave a long-winded message to the effect of, “Gee, where are you? I am waiting for you to arrive here in Iowa City. I hope you’re on the road.” Because my parents would have gotten that message, and that would have been bad. My parents are not big fans of Lucy, but they absolutely hate being lied to. It would have been safer to just admit that I was meeting her and take their crap for the next six weeks.
Ugh. Somebody told me that lies always come back to bite you in the ass—the bigger the lie, the bigger the bite. Suddenly I’m starting to buy that theory.