Yeah.
Kind of happened to me Saturday night.
I was driving home from my sister's new apartment in Manayunk. She moved out about a month ago and was having all her friends over for an "apartment-warming" and drink-fest. Normally, I am all about these get-togethers, but I'm doing a cleanse this week and can't drink any alcohol and my sister's friends.....well, I don't really like them. Needless to say, I left early and was feeling a bit sad. I just hate going home alone and walking in to a quiet house. Made me feel even more lonely than I had at my sisters apartment. I was also Mario Kart-ing it the whole way home, trying to avoid massive pot holes that are currently plaguing the Philadelphia area. It's pretty stressful actually to drive like that, praying the whole time you get home alive and with all 4 tires intact. And driving down Roosevelt Blvd at 11:30 at night is basically asking for a blow out.
My nerves couldn't take anymore, so once I got into Mayfair I decided to turn off the Blvd and onto Holme Ave. I figured the streets wouldn't be a perilous and the drive would be a tad more scenic. When I pulled onto the street, I realized I hadn't been that way in quite a while. There was construction for almost a year on an old bridge about a quarter mile down and the entire area was detoured off to a side street. I remembered not knowing about the construction when I needed to get to the cleaners on Holme Ave, and having to drive 15 minutes out of my way to get my final destination. So pissed in fact that I completely avoided this area for over a year. But driving on it then made it feel all shiny and new--like a street I had never driven down before. The dark made it feel ominous and magical, and it was almost completely deserted. Still afraid of pot holes, I drove pretty slow and tried to take in the scenery. Ahead of me was a traffic light, so I slowed to a stop and waiting for the green. I turned my head to the side to stifle a yawn, and when I opened them I saw the street sign to my right that was glowing from the street lamp.
And I realized I was in front of Jay's neighborhood.
It took me back instantly.
To that summer before senior year of college when Kyle invited me to Jay's birthday party. Jay and I went to college together and I actually knew his girlfriend pretty well, so I knew a lot of people there. But Kyle invited me. Kyle, the guy who worked with my best friend in high school. Kyle, who I reconnected with in college when he went to DeSales for a year. Kyle, the guy who I secretly had a crush on, but couldn't say anything because so did my best friend. We had started talking again that summer and he invited me to hang out. It was all kinds of awkward but I went anyway. I talked myself out of leaving every ten minutes, especially when I saw Kyle talking to another group of girls. But I stayed and eventually the night turned. We sat and laughed for hours and talked about the basement house party where we met--the night he handed me my first underage beer and I got drunk off of one. It was strangely normal and comfortable, and time slipped by. The sun actually started to rise and I looked at my watch, seeing it was 5:30 am. I knew I had to leave, so he walked me to my car.
And pulled me in for a kiss.
Everything changed in that moment.
It was what I wanted for years, and it fulfilled every expectation.
It was the start of a whirlwind summer that ended far too soon, and with far too many questions lingering. That, to this day I still don't have the answer to.
And never will, because Kyle was killed in a car accident 3 years ago.
It's hard for me to think about him without getting emotional. There was so much there and so much potential for us. Deep down, I truly believed I would end up with him. Soul mates, whatever you want to label it, it was just intense. And distance is what ended things--I was going back to school and he was staying in Philly. But now he's gone and I'll never know if he felt the same way.
And I guess that's what hurts the most.
The not knowing.
The light turned green again, and I drove the rest of the way home. Tears streaming down my face, and a re-opened hole in my heart.
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